Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Two decades since Naipaul came to India

Just through reading Naipaul’s ‘India – A Million Mutinies’ the last of the trilogy on Naipaul’s travelogue in India and I wonder, as yet another year draws to a close, if Naipaul would have seen India in a different light from the India he saw in 1990.  India then was standing at the threshold of an economic growth miracle to be fueled by the opening up of the economy and the easing away of the License-Permit raj. Naipaul would today have perhaps travelled more comfortably to the rural hinterlands of Punjab, been astounded presence of the ubiquitous Nokia handset in the hands of the boy who repairs tires by the roadside or by the spending power of the burgeoning middle-class in the glitzy malls but the million mutinies that he saw then would still be there.

Two decades later while the sense of ‘nation’ has grown (and we have the British to thank for this), the country remains as fractured as ever – factures that are both old and new. The political demography of the country has seen a sea change from the heady days of independence. The rise of regional parties and the pressures of running a coalition government – never an in-thing with the family driven Congress Party has thrown an entirely different set of challenges for the nation. The replacement of Brahmin power starting from the south and extending up to the north has brought forth a new breed of politicians and political ideology that has done nothing, just as Brahmin hegemony did nothing, for the economical transformation of the deprived classes – they remain in the same state if not worse even as the nation steps firmly into its next growth curve. The acute lack of governance (‘su-shasan’ as Nitish Kumar succulently puts it) at the federal and state levels (except perhaps states such as Bihar, Gujarat etc.) has widened old economic fractures and introduced more yawing gaps between the rich and the poor.  Endemic corruption coupled with poor policy measures, lack of transparency and controls has seen a galloping increase in prices of essential commodities leaving a significant part of the populace without access to very basic food let alone a minimum balanced diet. The International Food Policy Research Institute (IFPRI)’s Global Hunger Index (GHI) estimate ranks India at a low 66 out of the 88 developing countries - a score worse than many Sub-Saharan African countries! While I find the WPI (Wholesale Price Index) an inaccurate measure to gauge Food Inflation (the middlemen and hoarders are the devils in heady supply chain cocktail) the following table (Inflation in %) gives you a sense of how prices have been on a sprint.

Items
1993 – 94
2004 – 05
2010 - 11
Primary Articles
7.9 %
9.2 %
19.3 %
Fuel and Power
4.2 %
5.9 %
13.5 %





Thursday, September 23, 2010

Our Common Wealth of Neros

To Rome said Nero: "If to smoke you turn I shall not cease to fiddle while you burn."

Seeing the CWG fiasco unveiling itself before our eyes many of us many may be tempted to grit our teeth and say “a people deserves the political masters that it gets…” but haven’t we as a nation reached its nadir with our handling of the games. What a basket case we must seem to the world and here we have politicians and bureaucrat of all shapes and sizes, from the petit Sheila Dixit to Calamity Kalmadi keeping a poker face and saying ‘aall is wellll…, aall is well…”. The CWG Village maybe a filthy pig-sty but then Indians always were environment friendly and pooed in the open…and hence we really don’t identify with people who flush their turd down a tube…yuk and here you are, complaining while we are trying so hard to make a whole village environment friendly!

What a motley crowd of jokers, nincompoops and mediocres has this nation surrounded itself with…Behold the right honourable Mani Shankar Aiyar doing a merry little jig in his garden now that the games are crumbling…or take a peek into 10 Janpath and pay obedience to the reining deity of the Indian political governance (sic) system…and what may she be playing now…the harp? Or shall we zip down to Panchavati, 7 Race Course Road, where we thought resided an intelligent and intellectual Indian but alas, what has the system done to him…he is a but a shadow of his former self, surrounded as he is with spineless bureaucrats…

Phew! What a close call…we almost got done in by the spanking white Ambassador car with a shining red beacon…that screaming fly past was by Ms Sheila Dixit, one who got us into this shit…she is off to the CWG site…the roof of the stadia shouldn’t cave in…bricks and tiles can rain down on the athletes…large projects do have small hiccups…wow Ms Dixit, you are Nero born twice!

And as trudge along, our heads hanging we are accosted by a group of patriots…"why you worm" they say "you should stand by the nation and its politicians and its bureaucrats and its…what a shame…you should feel proud and not pick holes…oh! The sadness of it all"

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

A sparrow on the window sill...

Professor James Middleton, very unlike him, sat staring at the sparrow that had just perched itself on the window sill. A man who hated whiling away time had for some reason chosen that very moment to go gallivanting into his mind’s bower.

Rotten luck!”, thought Middleton Jr., who had, again for reasons unknown, chosen this very moment to present himself to his father and plead for some bridging funds to help him tide over a bleak financial month, not that the other months did not start putting on display ominous black clouds from somewhere during the 17th, had Middleton Jr. chosen to be prudent!

What had caught Middleton Sr.’s attention was not the bird that had chosen to pay the Middleton window sill a visit but two very significant pieces of news that had been delivered to him along with his morning cup of coffee. One was an obituary to ‘Common Sense’ and the other, the news of Rap star Sean “Puffy” Combs a.k.a. Puff Daddy a.k.a. Diddy gifting his just-gone-on-16 son a $360,000 Maybach!

While the sparrow on the sill sat cocking its head at impossible angles, our Professor was at that moment thinking about the traveler from Orhan Pamuk’s latest novel Other Colours, wondering as he did as he stood outside the door from which hung ‘No Entry’, if Diddy’s ludicrously expensive gift meant that he (Diddy) belonged to a class of people who are so loaded with cash that they can buy just what pleases them, old sage ‘Common Sense’ be damned, or was it that he, Professor Middleton, and the likes of him had just got banded into a class of people who begrudged their sons their existing allowances and allowed their pettiness to colour their judgement…

Never before had two entirely different pieces of news clashed like cymbals, leaving our good Professor completely floundering unable to make sense of the dizzying pace at which the world around him was changing…wasn’t it completely true (as the obituary penned by an Unknown Author read) that “Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn), reliable parenting strategies (the adults are in charge, not the kids), and it's okay to come in second…” or how our sage went into a feverish delirium realizing that “six year old boys (were) charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; a teen was suspended for taking a swig of mouthwash after lunch; a teacher was fired for reprimanding an unruly student and schools had to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student but couldn't inform the parent when a female student is pregnant or wants an abortion” and how “Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, she spilled a bit on her lap, and was awarded a huge settlement

And the most perplexing predicament was that we are, or so we are told, firmly ensconced in the ‘Knowledge Age’…having progressed a long way from the Stone Age…and we seem to have collectively lost the ability to think in simple terms of right and wrong. Prof. Middleton found this enigma of evolution both frightening and revolting…’are we somehow turning the clock back on ourselves’ thought the good professor, as his eyes fell on his son. “I wonder if it is money that brings you to my study so early in the morning?” quipped the old man.

Middleton Jr.’s long and studied silence elicited a 50 pound bridging fund, much to his amazement. And before we forget, the sparrow which was faithfully pruning itself chose to fly away as soon as the money changed hands!