The price of a home

Mukesh Ambani's home at Mumbai's Altamount Road still appears to me to be under-construction. There is something incomplete about it. Or, like a wedding cake that's been haphazardly sliced through. At night, it transforms into a lit-up bauble for Brobdingnagians.

It comes at a price and now it has topped the list, according to Forbes:

The title of the most outrageously expensive property in the world still belongs to Mukesh Ambani’s Antilia in Mumbai, India. The 27-story, 400,000-square-foot skyscraper home–which is named after a mythical island in the Atlantic–includes six stories of underground parking, three helicopter pads, and reportedly requires a staff of 600 to keep it running. Construction costs for Antilia have been reported at a range of $1 billion to $2 billion. To put that into perspective, 7 World Trade Center, the 52-story tower that stands just north of Ground Zero in Manhattan with 1.7 million square feet of office space, cost a reported $2 billion to build.

A rich person is most certainly entitled to spend wealth as s/he desires. There are wannabes who aspire to things the rich want. However, when it is a home in a city with a huge disparity in wealth among its citizens, then it ceases to be a question merely of personal riches.

Reminds me of wellknown architect Charles Correa, who and said:

“When I visited Australia I realised that save for a few homes most of the people in the cities live on similar-sized plots. Australia, I thought is locked into equality while in India we are locked into inequality. Mukesh Ambani has proved it. ‘This is the amount of urban space I control,’ he is telling us by building that home. At the same time you have to be impressed. What a huge ivory tower!”

Poverty bothers us, whether it is due to sympathy or because its presence is considered a nuisance, an intrusion into our space. We drive past, eyes averted. We walk past, waiting to get out and inhale. We are uncomfortable; this is not about us.

Why don't we feel the same way about the ostentatious although that too is not about us? We drive past and look with awe. We walk past, slow our steps until a guard looks with suspicion. This makes us uncomfortable because poor guy has access to super rich.

In that, we too live in ivory towers sponging on other people's make-believe.

© Farzana Versey

Front page rage

There was a knock on the door. A young man stood there assuring me, “Don’t worry, I am not selling anything”. Great. So, why was he here?

“I am a working professional.” He paused, waiting for the information to sink into what he might have perceived as the pyjama-clad brain. I played along with the “pressure-cooker is about to whistle” harried look, although the whistling part can be deemed misogynistic. He smiled. “Actually, a few of us are trying to do something.” I twiddled my thumb, just to underscore how important he was.

“You know there are so many senior citizens hanging around…”

The shock on my face had no impact on his terminology. The smile was still in place. “We want to do something.”

“Like what?” I finally broke my silence.

“Oh, we will collect funds.”

And he said he was not selling anything? Of course, I was not going to help his part-time activist and fulltime arrogance. Who the hell has given these people the right to land up at our houses, and assume that we are not aware and do not ‘do anything’? Only because he was dressed well, “cool” really, the watchman allowed him in and did not even alert me on the intercom. The youth movement has figured out that you send your smart men and women and they will be acceptable.

This was not the first time. What I was perturbed about is this fellow telling me about what happens in my locality (senior citizens don’t hang around, and they are not looking to be fed) without giving any information about himself and those “few people” who have decided to save others. I had no inclination for a conversation, pissed off as I am with this neo-activism everywhere. But, who are these people? What organisations back them? How do they disburse the funds, and who is accountable for all this? If at all they want to approach people, they ought to first provide this information in writing.

And, no, don’t come anywhere near my door. For, as far as I am concerned, you need to be saved from your delusions.

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Speaking of which, The Times of India today had a front page story with the headline: “Bikers harass fashion stylist in auto at Malad”. The unnamed stylist did not go to the police to register a complaint against these men who passed lewd comments, but she allowed her friend to post the picture she took of these guys on her cellphone.

It is sad I even have to write a disclaimer to say that obviously I do not condone such acts by these louts. But here, I have said it, so can we move on to some questions?

How does this qualify as a front page story? If it bothered her – and it would – why did she not go to the cops? If they do trace these men after seeing the photograph, on what grounds can they take action based on some newspaper report by an anonymous person? It is also interesting that she noted that one of the guys was wearing a “BMC uniform”. Being a municipal worker as opposed to her stylist profession obviously makes the story more palatable to the urban youth.

The story continued on the inside page with snippets from the social media. One word leaped out: pepper spray. Women need to get out of the house with pepper sprays. Why this sudden interest? A few days ago, DNA carried a report about a social worker-socialite who wanted to donate pepper spray cans. Clearly the target was the slick urban young women who could fit it like a lipstick in their bags. The samaritan had decided to name it after herself, and added that having spoken to some people they were willing to pay for it. So, it could turn out into another business venture?

If women wish, they can just add some water to pepper powder and fill aerosol spray bottles with it. There is no need to market it. Women in Delhi two decades ago used to wear ‘porcupine’ clips in their hair to ward off men in public transport. In other cities too similar methods have been employed by women when they could. While women need legal protection and security, let us see it as a necessity and not buy into this culture of paranoia.

The lewd comment story must have gained enough mileage. The TOI, after giving it front page importance, had another report on Page 6: “Father strips, assaults 15-year-old girl, held”. It had about four short paras. No rage. The man is an alcoholic and unemployed. His wife does odd jobs. They do not figure in the elite concern. Whistling men on bikes get us more agitated.

Curiously, the same paper carried this on Page 12:

Same paper, same day, a senior woman editor wrote an Op-ed titled, “Don’t Make Her Lose Her Face”…the subhead: “Because the raped woman isn’t the one who has to be ashamed”. Oh, get over it already. You say don’t make her lose face, as though she cannot decide on her face and everything else, and then add this “ashamed” bit, like an afterthought. It just sounds horrible, because we are taking over and deciding not to shame her.

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Shame is having a good time. Asaram Bapu has finally been arrested and here are the two bits that are highlighted:

• He will be in the same cell as Salman Khan was in for hunting black bucks. 

In effect, the media is equating rape with such hunting and also giving this fraud godman celebrity status.

• That he passed the potency test on the first round.

He agreed to it despite initial reservations and then did so because he said that the body is only mortal. There is more than meets the eye. He has a huge number of followers, including women, who took to the streets to support him. A man in his 70s who comes out flying with flying colours in potency gets validation. After all, he is also a healer of sorts, so this is an advertisement for his prowess. His superhuman qualities.

The only thing that is always impotent is rage.

©Farzana Versey

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Also: Re-examining sexual violation - Asaram Bapu and five men

Tooth vs. Dentures: The Modi Bite

How do you deal with the hype? The answer is simple: You don't. It is already reaching saturation point. Having 7,200 "e-soldiers" is a sign of desperation. The Gujarat chief minister is looking for someone to head the minority cell, "but the BJP is finding it difficult to find a recognizable face to head its minority front in Gujarat". His soldiers who think the 2002 riots are old and it is time to 'move on' will never have the courage to come forth with a plea that Muslims need not vote for the party. If they did, then one might give them some credit for at least lack of hypocrisy regarding their persistent whining against vote bank politics.

I am often surprised at the naïveté of those who believe that the cyber world can win elections. This report in The Times of India gives us a few details about how it works:

"Try criticizing Gujarat CM Narendra Modi on social media and you will be ambushed by a cyber army. Praise him, and there will be hundreds joining the chorus...The sharp quips against Modi-baiters on the net are the coordinated effort of these youth, who use specialized software to add friends and ‘Likes’ to Modi pages on Facebook and Twitter and also send mass messages."

Getting urban youth is not difficult. Modi should give credit for this to Anna Hazare. His crusade brought out the Nike generation to embrace the Gandhi topi in the day and drown their new-found angst later in the usual haunts. Nothing has changed, except a new-found purpose that I have already talked about in the I Mislead India post.

So, he had a ready 'army', and it was not difficult to brainwash them into believing that all would be right and what was wrong was not the fault of Modi, but of those who were out to demonise him. The youth who were shouting for justice against rapists and scamsters have been silenced into believing in legalistic justice where foot soldiers take the blame and you need 'concrete evidence' to pin down leaders The dissent that they proudly claimed has been bought with a fake ideology. The recent history they are asked to forget is dragging them to the ancient past of Mughal conquerors. Irony cringes.

The group is incestuous and sharp, though. They will target novices with no known baggage. Try a red herring (RH) with them. They will not bite. The fear factor they use against others is really their own fear of any strong opinion. Watch them on TV shows and the moment they face an argument, the response is, "Look at you, you are getting nervous", even as they muffle their own nervous laughter. They cannot handle anyone who has a contrary viewpoint.

I have not come across a single person who is a Modi or a BJP person being critical of the way of functioning (no, L.K.Advani does not count!). If they cannot question anything, then how will they critique others? How different is it from the dynasty they abhor? It was this Narendra Modi Army that took out a morcha to Mr. Advani's house after he spoke out. Forget cohesiveness, it reveals bad taste and insecurity.

The electronic media has given way too much attention to these "Internet warriors". The unfortunate negative fallout is a response by the Congress camp of mimicking it. It ought not to be difficult. Prop up one individual, discuss achievements, rubbish the opposition. However, they have not been as successful. If the relatively secular forces (not just the Congress) have any sense they'd see that as a compliment,

They have a wider variety of supporters, not all creditable, but yet. They are not in denial mode about any of the riots during Congress rule. They are not in a desperate hurry to accept the words of disgruntled NDA allies, even if some politicians do. A Digvijaya Singh, a Sanjay Jha, an Abhishek Singhvi are often pulled up by their own even as they remain anti-BJP. One does not ever hear about any Modi bhakt criticising their spokespersons for speaking out of turn and, by Jove, they do.

In the superficial oneupmanship, where it is clear that the Modi army outnumbers, it is the loss of sensible debate.

Contrary to what the social media believes about the social media clout of the man, a war cannot be fought with invisible weapons and hydra- headed monsters with multiple accounts. This is an insult to the vast population of India. And it ought to be a lesson for every political party.

Ruling a country is not a hashtag you can latch on to. You can fool a few lakh followers — many talking to themselves — but not the millions.

© Farzana Versey

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Also read: Advani and Modi:No Exit

Image source not available

Dil abhi bhara nahin: Dev Anand

Evergreen, evergreen…how many times has one heard and read the word to describe Dev Anand. When he died last night at the age of 88, still brimming with ideas, this would only make the evergreen tag squeeze in more adamantly.

No one noticed that his hair looked awkward, his skin sagged, his scarves and jackets sought to cover rather than make a statement as they had done earlier, and his lips quivered when he spoke. He had grown old, but was holding on to a shaky pillar to build foundations that would not last. His later films lacked panache, they flopped. He said it did not matter and would go on to his next project.

Did it really not matter? This was a man who was completely a people’s person – from his stylised acting to his flashy clothes, he wanted to be noticed and accepted. But he too fell for the evergreen image that was built around him.

A few months ago on a talk show he spoke about how even today there are girls who would be quite willing to get close to him. He was not gloating, and it is entirely possible that aspiring starlets would want to use him as a stepping stone. Yet, it was a sad moment. Sad to watch him regurgitate a fantasy, even if it was real.

His reality was often a fantasy. Some have called it optimism.

I first watched one of his old films on our building terrace. There was a projector and a bedsheet served as the screen. The movie was Hum Dono. We got two Dev Anands. Imagine seeing these delicious black and white images from what seemed a distant past under a starlit sky. Already a film junkie, these moments became part of my non-formal education. It helped when the family would recount their first exposure to the particular film. Or how my mother on her first English film outing, a Gregory Peck movie, was so angry that the Hollywood star was “copying hamara Dev Anand”. The fact that it was quite the opposite did not make a difference to her.

That Dev Anand overdid it was an intrinsic aspect of his persona. He hammed, but delightfully. He made you believe that he was like this. And you know what? He probably was. His body was perpetually leaning towards some unknown person or a far-away place. His neck performed acrobatics. He was like a tableau – every part of him, every expression, a stand-alone performance put together on one stage: himself.

As an actor, he would perhaps qualify as the first real urbane urban character of post-Partition India. He even pronounced his name in a posh manner: Dev-er-nun. He took to Bombay and portrayed it in such an uninhibited manner. Think of Taxi Driver where even the streets looked chic in the dark. He was a man who loved beauty. I would not call him an aesthete; his idea of pulchritude was of polish and varnish. Not quite superficial, but most certainly overt. He did show criminal characters and even portrayed them, but they were charmers. He showed poverty, but no real dirt. This was not his scene.

As director he took greater control, and he stuck to his urban concerns. Again, he did not delve too deeply, although Hare Rama Hare Krishna is indeed a landmark film. When he played the Professor Higgins part in Man Pasand, it did seem like reality for once. He had created quite a few female actors – Zeenat Aman and Tina Munim being the most prominent.

Again, in recent interviews he talked about how upset he was when Zeenat Aman chose Raj Kapoor. For him it was not about a role, but some sort of betrayal. His affair with Suraiya is a fascinating example of how he would go against type when he wanted something. It is said that she would sneak out and they would meet quietly, away from the prying eyes of her conservative mother. The man who one would imagine shrugging such inconveniences off – “Har fikr ko dhuein mein udaata chalaa gaya” (I smoked away all worries) – seemed to understand the delicacy of such shackles, as in his beloved singing “Chhod do aanchal zamaana kya kahega” (Let go off me, what will people think?), but not without a riposte: “Inn adaaon ka zamaana bhi hai deewana, deewaana kya kahega” (this world too is crazy about just such tantalising excuses, so what’s a crazy man to do).

It was clear that he was a romantic, but pragmatically so. Not one of the Alps types, he wooed women through the haze of cigarette smoke or a curl of his lower lip. The music in his films was essential, not merely to take the story forward but to help us stop and look at what else he could do. It was in the song sequences that he shone best and was a natural at.

There are several, but I want to stay with these two.

The romance:



and

The optimistic angst:

Teri duniya mein jeene se, tau behetar hai ke mar jaayein
Wohi aansoon, wohi aahein, wohi gham hai, kidhar jaayein

(It is better to die than live in this world
With the same tears, the same sighs, the same sorrows trailing where does one go)

Just watch him. Does it look like he would want to give up? He is addressing god, but his demeanour is challenging. And the child’s musical interlude – innocence? Hope?

Post Script: I cannot end without mentioning that sometime towards the end of 2000 I got a hand-written note from him saying that he enjoyed my columns. I wanted to cry because those were days of my tears. I could not meet him, but the words of one of his songs from Hum Dono, the first film of his that I had seen under a starlit sky on a bedsheet screen, echoed how I felt.

Kabhi khud pe, kabhi haalat pe rona aaya

Baat nikli tau har eik baat pe rona aaya

(I sometimes weep over myself and sometimes over what’s happening to me

And when I speak about such sorrows, I weep for those sorrows too)

Rear Rural

Would you buy a tin of cow fart only because you are missing home? As a city person, I cannot digest (oops) this, but is it really about nostalgia? In Germany, incidentally a country known more for its streamlined technology rather than cattle, the £5 product is a hit. The ad says:

“Simply put your nose to the tin and peel back the lid for the authentic smell of the country”.

My experiences with the countryside have been rather interesting, both in India as well as abroad, although at home we just call them villages. I get all excited about the quiet, the pure air, away from the hub, no traffic, simple people, organic food and after a few days I become restless.

The silence isn’t soothing; it is desultory. A nose that has become accustomed to what may be industrial fumes is assailed with all kinds of ‘natural’ smells that may not be as harmless, especially if they are in unhygienic surroundings. I dislike the hub and stay away from it at home, but when I am in this rural utopia and reach the city I want to jump with joy. And I don’t care much for organic food. In a village on the outskirts of Mumbai I have had the most simple food prepared by a most simple woman that gave me a bad tummy and a bad temper because she was so nice and wanted to know why I did not like doing womanly things.

The barking of dogs, the crowing of cocks and shepherds going “harrrrr” as they sauntered off gave me many a photo-op, and a few smiles, but then I wanted the alarm clock to ring. Besides, for how long can one lovingly watch an insect perched on the hand or stand transfixed before a beehive? Honey, I've got the stuff they do. Really. And the special smells did not register, although I am a ‘nosey’ person.

I admit I am a sniffer and in school would go down on buses to inhale petrol fumes. So, you might well shoot back, who am I to question this innovative bottled wind-breaking idea?

I was not buying the fumes or missing them. If there wasn’t a bus around I wouldn’t go crawling beneath cars. One does not need to think much to figure out that this is merely a new market. As the designer of the ‘Countryside air to go’ project said:

“We hope to make people who miss the countryside happy and remind them of home. We are planning other smells such as horse, straw, pigs and manure. But most people miss the smell of the cows in the country, not really surprising as much of the smell is from cows.”

It is pretty harmless, of course. I wonder what happens when we miss people.

Obama and young India

I got this note from a well-respected and well-placed member of one of our rightwing political groups. It was sent to ‘undisclosed recipients’ but on occasion in the past we have disagreed with civility.

Reproduced is an excerpt from his letter followed by my rather long response:

Enclosed is a link to a video of two questions that were asked of Obama in his interaction with the students. One girl, from Xavier's College, asked him about his opinion on jihad, and a boy, from HR College, asked him a question on spirituality and materialism. I thought the questions reflect very well on the young generation of India. The first would indicate that issues like jihad are being discussed by the youth, and perhaps they are not carried away with the negationism being indulged in by the supposed intellecutals. The second was put forward in an intelligent manner, and also a topic that one may not associate the youth to be so involved in.

Namaste

   - - -

Dear Shri X:

Thank you for sharing your views. Barack Obama, like most of the US leadership in the past, tends to be not quite upfront and dangles carrots while using the stick.

I do not agree at all with your views on the young generation and their concerns. Is this the representative sample of the youth of India – the urban kids who get to spend quite a bit of money, go on annual vacations, are clued-in to trends and hanker after, if not possess, the latest gizmos? Is this the representative youth that will not mind working at KFC and McDonald’s but would titter at the local vendors of essentials? This is the Americanised young generation and their curiosity is US-centric.

Asking Mr. Obama about his opinion on jihad is playing to the gallery created by the President’s predecessors and backroom boys. Did those young people ask him why he has chosen selected people in his cabinet with what is referred to as Hindutva leanings? Why does he choose a minister to deal specifically with the Islamic world as though it is a conglomerate of Dirty Harrys? Did this section of ‘aware’ youth bother to question him about terrorism elsewhere and of other kinds? Does discussing jihad necessarily mean that “they are not carried away with the negationism being indulged in by the supposed intellectuals”? Can one assume, then, that they are being carried away by another sort of intellectualism that strives to thrust one version of cultural hegemony over another?

Jihad is a most discussed topic, so for young people to talk about it is not unexpected. It is the new soccer. I’d have said cricket, but it is so third world for this young generation.

I fail to understand how you believe that questions about materialism and spiritualism reflect well on the youth only because it is not a topic you associate with them. There are a few factors here. Growing up includes dealing with internal turmoil and it does spark off interest in what may be termed a spiritual quest. It has been a constant since ages. Besides, these queries have also become part of money-spinning feel-good and how-to books, again not a recent phenomenon but more sharply evident of late. Then, there is the influx of pop spiritualism on the web and on the airwaves, the mode being of American televangelism. Gurus speak the language of Now and their celebrity devotees ensure that they become immensely desirable. The young generation is likely to be enticed by this as they are by social networking sites.

The point is they are not interested as much in real issues or, if they are, they do not voice it. When I write about the Sikh riots or the 1993 Bombay riots, there is ennui and a disdainful attitude towards what they deem to be obsession with history.

Like you I am more interested in what our young people think rather than what the US Prez says; the difference is that we are on different sides of the spectrum. I see it as a good thing and wish the youth would be able to stride across thought processes rather than follow tried-and-tested paths. I am not too sure if the so-called intellectuals that you hold in contempt would want a blinkered following. If they do, then their vision is as narrow, and I believe it is so in many cases. But let us not tar every segment with one brush.

Jihad and spiritualism are gainful, and some instances opportunistic, pastimes for such youth. Curiosity ought to lie in the details, not mere chatter of the times.

Namaste and best regards,
FV

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Updated:


There has been further correspondence from the gentleman. Here follows the exchange in dialogue form:

Dear Farzanaji,
Pranam,

Thank you for your message.

The negativeness that I see in your message does not make for pleasant reading.

Dear Xji:

Thank you for taking this further. It was not meant to be pleasant, but I do not see ‘negativism’ the way you do. One may wonder why they asked negative questions about subjects like jihad and did not concentrate on positive subjects. I am not suggesting that they ought to have done so; it is only to emphasise my point about negativity.

There were six questions that were asked. Given that ALL of them were what I consider to be mature and intellilgent ones, and not frivilous that one would normally associated with what is called the MTV generation, it is only correct to conclude that more questions would have been of the same quality.

I do not know how the colleges were chosen and how the students within each colleges were chosen. I would like to know, and perhaps you could use your journalism contacts to find out.

It seemed to me that Obama chose the students who asked the questions quite randomly. I have seen a video at:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xnFAad9eQE&feature=player_embedded#at=213
where two of the questions and their answers are available. This feeling is reinforced by the fact that at least some of the questions were of a nature which did put him on the defensive. If the organisers made a show of randomness, then they surely botched the whole exercise.

I think maturity and intelligence can be selective. You have not noticed that I specifically alluded to their NOT asking certain questions. I hope you agree that these same young people will not question the US establishment or any other forms of terrorism, subjects you too have avoided in your response.

While there is a frivolity in the MTV generation, those who stick to MTV and its allied ideas can be granted some honesty. I am afraid but I do not have journalistic contacts of this nature, but it isn’t merely about the choice of college; it is the whole urbanised movement that has taken over. In this case, it is what India sees as important to deal with the outside world that is disconcerting.

It really does not matter that Obama was put on the defensive. He might have been so even if they had asked about the US policies in Iraq, Afghanistan or its history of slavery or of him being the totem Black President. The more important factor is that India is dependent on US goodwill and many other things, which I wrote about in Obama’s Hawk Policy in India.

To say that they were NOT representative of the thinking of the educated youth in Mumbai trivalises the sincerity of those who asked the questions. The nature of the questions tells me what are the issues that the youth are discussing, apart from holidays, latest gizmos, KFC, etc.

I reiterate that they are not representative of the educated youth. Of course, we will then have to question what education is. I have already stated that such ‘interests’ work as much as trendy talk. It does not trivialise anything but seeks to examine the mindset beyond the trivial.

Let me tell you an incident from Mahabharat. One day, Yudhishtar was asked to go into the town and come back with one bad person, while Duryodhan was asked to go into the same town and come back with one good person. Both came back empty handed. Yudhishtar found at least one redeeming quality in every person he met, and Duryodhan found at least one bad quality in every person he met.

Thank you for this enlightening anecdote. But, as you are aware, it was Duryodhan who sought to make the ‘outsider’ Karna king and an equal of the Pandava, Arjun. Therefore, the good and bad are perceptions, not necessarily real.

And please do use this exchange, too, in your blog, without mentioning my name.

Namaste

It has been an interesting exchange. And you shall remain anonymous on the blog.

Namaste,
F

Mukhtaran and Meena

How did a rape victim become an icon and why? Is Jamshed Dasti a stand-alone, callous bloke trying to use pressure and clout to stifle justice or is he representative of the pugnacious social structure? Mukhtaran Mai’s bravery is a personal one, I am afraid. There has not been a spurt of such court cases; it has not sensitised people at the ground level; it has not resulted in understanding of what rape, especially gang rape, conveys.

Meet Meena. She heard the screams. Her husband lay in a pool of blood. Before she could do anything, the men had pounced on her. After some time she managed to drag herself and get help. She then went to file a complaint. The cops tittered, looked at her breasts above her pregnant belly and said: “Doodh pila de”. She yelled out helplessly. Months later, life was still miserable, now with an incapacitated husband and fear. “They barricaded most of the area. If I left the hut for long they’d break it again. It was so bad that we had to defecate inside on sheets of paper and I’d carry the excreta and throw it on the other side, which was a swamp,” she said.

I was sitting with her far from the cold floor, but her story was chilling. She was indirectly caught in a fight between two builders. Her husband worked for one. The rival hired a goonda gang. This was cosmopolitan Mumbai and they were only earning a living. Until that day, a day that she had to leave behind even as she went looking for work and visiting the police station. Justice was being scraped out painfully; it could not be brandished in bold letters.

Does it all end after the devastation of riots, militant attacks, wars? No. Brutalisation is only the outer manifestation. Women become double victims — first of the actual battle and then of the ideology. In the days when sati was a sanctified institution, the motive was to save women from marauding enemy armies. But, what was being protected —their lives or their sexuality? We have heard about victims marrying their rapists. These are literal demonstrations of masculinisation of power.

Jamshed Dasti’s ‘compromise’ formula is based as much on the tribal laws that forced Mukhtaran’s rape. She was the price they had to extract for another’s ‘sin’. The urban politician is using a similar yardstick and, much as his views are reprehensible, there are often coteries that take over a symbol to showcase their concern for the co-existence of feminism and tradition. Mukhtaran has been hawked like fusion cuisine.

She has become a cliché for injustice and, ironically, even more exploited. The value system and marketing machinery are patriarchal. The victim woman who fights, becomes a canonised caricature, so beloved of the Wsest and the westernised, leaving little room for the voiceless. It is appalling that we cheer when a case gets international exposure. Our media gives them the exotic version when in those countries date rapes, incest and teen pregnancies are a common occurrence. How many of their victims are seen as icons?

Had Jamshed Dasti been worried about the international repercussions he would have shut-up. He is concerned about the local constituency. For all those disparaging him, yes, he is for real. If we look deeper, then he is what many surrounding us are about, including women who accept the status of trophy wives and state, “It’s okay if my husband goes here and there as long as he comes home to me at the end.”

If we have said or heard this and not given it a second thought, then Dasti’s crime is not very different from ours.

- - -

Published in The Express Tribune, July 6th, 2010.

Heart of the Market

Do you pledge to play more often with Leo? Do you pledge to use the treadmill? Do you? Your heart and its well-being are not only an advertiser’s paradise, but they are used to convey the wide disparity that exists between the social classes.

The Times of India has started the Billion Hearts Beating campaign together with Apollo Hospital. The ads refer to an audience that will have access to the good things of life. The assumption is that heart diseases affect only the urban individual, that only their health is of any consequence.

You might say that readers of the TOI are not living in villages, so it is perfectly fine to address this group. Here is the problem: It creates a closed group that begins to believe that only certain sections suffer; the rest are peripheral.

Some of you might recall that a while ago Quaker Oats had joined in. I had written then about what a sad trend it is of marrying concern with consumerism and blatantly plugging products. While Apollo Hospital does have facilities for such care and is directly involved, what do oats and newspapers have to do with it? You’d quibble that this is sponsorship and support, and the corporate sector can help in educating. I’d have gone along with that if it were only about you and me.

Of the millions who will suffer from heart diseases, how many eat oats or are amenable to the idea? How many even know what oats are? Quaker is not an Indian company; it is a multinational that wants to make a dent in the Indian market. Is there any proven study that shows oats reduce the risk of heart problems or reading a particular newspaper will educate you more?

I called it a trend. It is worse. This is a money-making racket through fear.

We already have false images of people in white coats telling you that your toothpaste has been certified by them so little children can eat as many chocolates and ice-cream as they want. There is one absolutely ridiculous ad where a kid is complaining of a tummy ache and the ‘doctor’ model says it is not the stomach to blame but the germs that find their way into the hands. You get the right soap and all is well. While the germs-on-hands theory is true, the stomach does have a mechanism of its own. No one bothers to ask or tell us that children or adults do not walk around with soap.

If these heart waalas are concerned, and there has got to be more education here, then they could have added some simple message of eating daliya, which is porridge, which is what oats amount to. The minute you want to ride on the salesman’s gravy cart, there is a chance of credibility going under the horse’s hooves.

Concrete jungle

I live in one. You live in one. We feel walled in and then we break through walls. Ghosts. Or smashed heads. Or lonely souls:

Bob Marley - Concrete Jungle



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Talking of which, the blogger cannot view the blog and now cannot post comments. So, I shall taste the cement and feel the bricks. Crash.

The Death of Bo

Think. The last member of your clan dies and what you had hoped would outlive you has gone. Disappeared from the face of the earth, the universe after 65,000 years of existence.

Think.

Boa Senior, the only one left of the Bo tribe of the Andamans, died at 85. And took with her every remnant of a culture, a language, a way of living.

Survival International director Stephen Corry said, “With Boa Senior’s death and the extinction of the Bo language, a unique part of society is now just a memory.”

A memory for whom? Who would know and, even if they did, why would they remember?

Apparently, she once told linguists, “We were all there when the earthquake came. The eldest told us ‘the Earth would part, don’t run away or move’.”

They knew how to survive. Yet, they were not allowed to. First it was the British colonisers who killed them or just let them die of diseases they could not cope with due to the advent of new viruses. Their departure did not help. The process of civilisation is complicated and in the urban mindset it means trying to change people. But only superficially. You give them clothes to cover themselves up, but nothing is done to preserve their heritage. Or if it is, there is commercial exploitation.

They provide fodder for photographers; a visit is considered dangerous and akin to a trip to a wildlife sanctuary where you are supposed to spot them.

Channels such as Discovery do attempt to trace them and provide a semblance of understanding, yet no one is concerned in helping them live their lives the way they want to by working within their system and needs.

The more accessible tribes are showcased on important national events for their dances and acrobatics. Those who have creative talent are given some materials to express it; these are then sent to the market and sold at trumped up rates. One does not know how much the tribals themselves benefit from it. There would be totem visible star who will be taken to award shows as a symbol of our national culture.

How many of us remember? How many of them have been sustained after this? Besides, can we not respect the fact that what they draw is rudimentary and meant for rough walls and floors and not soft boards? I feel sickened by the idea that these are displayed in houses that reek of ostentation.

Am I over-reacting? Isn’t it better than leaving them in little places? The point is that we are not including them in what we call civil society; we are using them, and that too not all of them. The rest will continue to be in those places until some great shining hope in the form of big fat cameras descends to capture their work or their breasts.

Boa’s death is a frightening reminder that the thousands of years of what was created and built upon was allowed to perish.

The Bo was a sub-tribe of the Great Andamanese; there are only 52 left of these as well. I can only hope that we get some sense and work on preserving them and what they stand for. It is not they who need to be civilised but we, for our callousness and our idea of inflicting supremacy on those who still have some self-esteem to keep their culture alive.

The beauty is that they don’t even know it. If only such innocence could be canonised in a world where even saints need to perform miracles.

The Great Indian Rope Trick

Arrogance and Austerity
The Great Indian Rope Trick
by Farzana Versey
Counterpunch, September 18-20, 2009

The soles of his feet were cracked like the soil in barren fields. He sat idly and drank khus sherbet. There weren’t any files spread before him. He was doing no work, only shaking his legs in that nervous frenzied manner of people in power who have to sit with others.

This was in the executive class on a private airline. It was before the Congress party told its ministers that they had to go on an austerity drive and travel economy. Agriculture Minister Sharad Pawar reacted by saying there would be no space to do any work.

Why has there been such a black and white reaction to this move? Was it because two ministers started staying at luxury hotels while their government bungalows were being ‘done up’? S.M.Krishna and former UN man Shashi Tharoor claim they did not use the tax-payer’s money; the latter in his now patented fashion is throwing the “I am paying the bills from my own savings after a lifetime of international work” line.

His little tweets have made him into a five-star martyr to become a part of knee-jerk legend. In one he said he would definitely travel in ‘cattle class out of solidarity with all our holy cows’. Naturally, those who think life revolves around conveying their daily stories in small doses find it, and him, cute. The arrogance of this kind of Indian politician mirrors the same feudal mentality that upstart urbanites accuse the country bumpkins of.

The primary reason is that our society follows the “Dilli Chalo” (onward to Delhi) credo to sanctify the power of central leadership and fake cohesiveness. Our slogans have moved from “Jai Jawaan, Jai Kisaan” (Hail the solider and the farmer) to “Garibi hatao” (Banish poverty) to “India Shining”. While India was shining, farmers were committing suicide as they are now. Getting ministers to give 20 percent of their wages for drought-affected regions is simplistic. The salaries of ministers are not known to be high. They earn more through perks – for fuel, phones, travel. There is also the larger issue of corruption. Granting licences for large projects to certain firms is part of the money-making deal that keeps the political machinery lubricated.

The current move is not about hypocrisy but hyperbole. And who better fits the slot of abstinence than the father of the nation? Lalu Prasad Yadav said, “Mahatma Gandhi always preferred to travel in third class compartments... and remained frugal throughout his life.”

If there is anyone who made poverty look like a million bucks, then it was Gandhi. The land of nabobs became the land of the half-naked fakir. The Birlas played host to him not because he drank goat’s milk but because he said, “India must protect her primary industries even as a mother protects her children against the whole world without being hostile to it.”

This is the brand of selective socialism that is being replayed today, not the fashionable Nehruvian model which was about how to do a Lenin by wearing mink. It is corporatisation of spiritualism. Anyone with a begging bowl of empty dreams can head a start-up venture of couture abstemiousness.

The idea of droughts and famines do not merely fan such high thinking among politicians but intellectuals, too. Remember Amartya Sen’s facile belief that, “… famines have never afflicted any country that is independent, that goes to elections, that has opposition parties to voice criticisms, that permits newspapers to report freely and to question government policies without extensive censorship”?

Simply speaking, we would be talking about socially and economically wealthy societies. Forget famines. What about other problems that beset a country like India? We have democracy, why then does Prof. Sen subscribe to state intervention? He had concurred that the role of the state even in matters of nutrition, health, education, social insurance was connected with the outcome of economic processes, which must empower people to become economic agents in their own right.

Here was a clear case of making both sides happy without giving a thought to the fact that state intervention can never empower people; it only results in dependency if not degradation. Perhaps, that suits the purpose. As he once stated, “Buddha was asking himself what kind of life is that (of illness, old age, mortality)? These are problems we all face. For many of us it is also the impetus for our work.”

The concern about rural India’s suffering arises only when it affects the middle class and the rich. Food, a basic need, is in short supply. An India that is now being sold Quaker Oats by an organisation of heart cure is willing to exaggerate its misery. Where are our irrigation plants? What happens to the families of farmers? How many people are moving to other towns and cities? Have these aspects been considered? Sonia Gandhi takes a flight with the plebs. As a symbol it might work, but only for a limited audience.

Once the flight touches ground, there will be a fleet of security vehicles. The person in the street does not care. It will, however, result in more corruption. The corporate sector that has thrived due to political munificence will be happy to help. They will not go quietly and do something in the villages where they have set up factories; they already think they have done the country a huge favour by providing employment opportunities. Labour is cheap. Instead, they will provide facilities to ministers, and since many of their kind have got into the fray it will be easy. They talk the same language and suffer from the same gilt-edged greed.

Does anyone talk about austerity for them when they are in fact sponging on the shareholder’s money? Was there any talk about austerity when villagers were driven out of the leftist state to facilitate factories to produce a low-cost car for the city dweller – a car that would clearly point out the difference between the rich and the ones who would never get there?

We condescendingly let Lalu, our rustic politician, join the cavalcade of management geeks to give lectures at Harvard and Wharton. The gallery applauds as they would when they watch a comic act or an acrobat. He senses that. Years of having been marginalised have taught him lessons in hypocrisy, stereotypes, and expectations. He plays their game. He too starts quoting Gandhi even as he made money from kickbacks from cow food. How much more hick town can anyone get?

Sleepy Communism has joined ranks, clinking glasses of Old Monk and belting out the angst of foreign rebellion in the voices of Ginsberg and Che, driving kitsch up the Warhol wall. Poor India has today become a parody of its own poverty.

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(An abridged version appears in The News International, September 19)