Lost in Translation

THE CONTENTS OF THIS POST HAVE BEEN DELETED COZ IT READS REALLY BAD!!! "UGH! UGH! "

An Uncorrelated Regression

Read in the papers today that courier companies are likely to be barred from carrying letters which weigh less than 300gms. This is in order to promote the postal service, which is reeling from the loss of corporate and personal business. Incidentally, the Speed Post has for some time been advertised as the “Government’s own courier service”. Perhaps, they will pull back those ads, just in order to avoid confusion.

Some time back I wrote a rather verbose and laborious post on reservations in the IIM. (And then Anonym shatterred my random illusions of "writing well", by asking me to clarify certain things- I mean I wrote 2000 words and still left room for explanations!) Meanwhile, CII is urging the government not to go ahead with a certain social reform move, which includes job reservations in the private sector. Makes me wonder what next.

Are we regressing as a society and a country? Of course these two issues are uncorrelated, and it would be pointless to read between the lines. Which is precisely why I am doing it.

Consider, the Narmada Bachao Andolan- I really feel very strongly for the people who’ve had to be relocated- and think the issue should be handled sensitively and efficiently, but I am very clear that economic development almost always comes at a social price. Politics has had a field day. Courts have washed their hands off the matter saying that the one person who can resolve the imbroglio is the Prime Minister, who now seems like a politician who once attended a basic course called Economics 101. In my humble opinion, if the world had waited to ensure that each and everyone in Panama had been amicably relocated before starting work on the Canal, ships would still have been going around the Magellan Straits. I mean there will be broken hearts and homes. But the system just has to go on, while making things smooth for the ones affected.

I can only conclude that as a People, we are just pulling the country apart- and not just the politicians. Workers, Intelligentsia, Literati, Page 3, Media- everyone. Highlighting issues is one things, standing in the way of progress is quite another and trivializing it, is the worst. Of course, I am not prophesizing Doomsday. Nothing that bad- and if such things do happen, it will definitely take longer than my lifetime. We will continue to develop, at worst a little slowly.

I can go on but, Sadly…

Someone I was remotely interested in recently, today tells me that these days whatever I write seems rather “dry and tired”. After reading that now, I am in desparate need of some LOVE and AFFECTION! Wonder why? How does one end up needing the TWO? So rest of this post is quite something else. I shall begin by quoting Woody Allen (someone I resort to regularly when faced with such ponderous issues):

Alvy Singer: It was great seeing Annie again and I realized what a terrific person she was and how much fun it was just knowing her and I thought of that old joke, you know, the, this, this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, 'Doc, uh, my brother's crazy, he thinks he's a chicken,' and uh, the doctor says, 'well why don't you turn him in?' And the guy says, 'I would, but I need the eggs.' Well, I guess that's pretty much now how I feel about relationships. You know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and, but uh, I guess we keep going through it...because...most of us need the eggs.
- Woody Allen. Annie Hall.

In a fairly inebriated state, I was asked last night whether I’d ever been in love. My interrogator was a friend (he is the category I find really difficult to handle- overly helpful, good at heart, thick in head, and a really bad sense of humour, but more about that later) who’s my age- or nearly, and has been married for five years to the first woman he proposed to. Now, that’s a really difficult question to answer. You obviously know what to say, but the problem lies in addressing the flurry of questions it leads to. A few days back his wife had asked me the same question. I looked away for a bit, then looked at him and said “Yes”. To be consistent between husband and wife. And then it started.

To be honest I have not been in a “full-fledged” relationship lately. I have been mildly interested in some people, but not quite as much to really take it forward. Sometimes I have been snubbed early. Sometimes I have just lost interest. Even in the prime of my youth, it was mostly “In and Out”. Actually, its almost like I have forgotten how it used to be like to be in one. All that I recall is the slightly warm fuzzy feeling. I don’t remember the terrible fights. Nor the incredible highs. Not the frequent walk in the clouds. Not the occasional plunges into the cold vat of sorrow. I guess at the end of it all that remains is the fuzz. After the crests and troughs have been ridden.

And then I began to wonder why is it that we seek relationships? And then I found my answer in the incredible Mr. Allen. Like he says, we NEED the eggs. Sometimes I have wondered about the futility of it all. The irrationality. The craziness. All of it. And then sometimes concluded that being in one makes one a little more human. I mean, what is a lifetime?

I guess a lifetime is about experiences. It’s a compilation of the good and the bad, the high and the low, and what you are left as at the end of each of those. It is a summary of the events in your life and the people who you shared them with. Of course, being in a relationship is an experience in itself, but having said that, it does amplify the effect of any other experience. I alternate between chasing relationships and running away from them, but I have enjoyed every single one I've been in. And then the other memories, good or bad, that I have are more vivid when they have been experienced with someone else. Someone else.

Actually, I think I am going to contradict myself a bit. Every relationship is unique in its own way. It a set of individual experiences, laid out beautifully, like snapshots on the mantelpiece. And they just cannot be compared, cannot ever be replaced. I guess its because of the way people are. I see, and remember, in them little details so specific to each of them that move me and that I miss, and... will always miss. You can never replace anyone, because every person is made of such exquisite specific details.

Too much to think on a Friday night- Tank Up Man!!!

(Sree calls, Hollers, T.O. scampers, shamelessly late)

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Just enough time for a bit of Ghalib-

“Ishq se tabiyat ne zist ka maza paya
dard ki dava payi, dard-be-dava paya"

Response to the M Question

From an old friend - lost and found after seven years:

"Not married. Still romantically in love with the ex-girlfirend. Tried forgetting. Tried redating. Tried alcohol (lots!) but I'll just wait for her. Of course, there is a chance that the hot place underground might freeze over but...aaahh...such is love, or stupidity. One can never be too sure between the two."

To which my reply was: "Did you try drugs?"

To which there has been no response, yet.

May be I should have written:

" Nothing puts the colour back in seasons and the taste back in food, quite like a new found love" ~ John Green

Thanks to Anonym for this one.

A Reservation to the Policy

In a minor deviation from the domains of fantasy and the going-ons of my life that occupy my blog space, today I write about the recent developments on reservation. It is fairly serious stuff so I can only offer my apologies to those looking forward to a bit of fun. Also it is going to be very, very long.

My initial reaction on hearing of the move to reserve 27 per cent of seats in institutes of higher education for “Other Backward Classes” was one of disbelief. I was instantly reminded of the year when I for the first and only time in m life taken to the streets to protest against Mandal v 1.00. The year was 1991. I was 13, outraged, affected and endangered by the “developments”. Of course since then things have changed. I am a lot more inert, lackadaisical. My second thought was even if they get through how will they ever manage to clear Quantitative Techniques-1. Nothing matters much, nothing much matters.

This time around however, I realized that my initial reaction had been stupid, and out of place of a man turning thirty later this year. But that later. I am not here to write about the (de)merits of the issue. Enough is going to be said, and some very compelling arguments are likely to be put forth by both sides. First, I shall just write a couple of personal experiences.

I personally know only three persons who availed of the reserved seats and managed to complete their education in a single attempt. And that speaks a lot for a man of 29. None of them were deprived by any means. The first, son of a senior Delhi bureaucrat, joined IIT, D in Computer Engineering. While the temptation must have been great, he realized that he by no means could compete with the demi-gods who populated the benches of that class and within a month quit to join the same course in DCE. Nevertheless, he was smart and broadly intelligent and now works for a top US firm and lives happily with an American wife in Northern California. The second was the son of my Dad’s tribal colleague, who had lived in Delhi all his life. Joined Chemical Engineering in IIT D, went on to work on a Schlumberger oil rig somewhere in the Persian Gulf. The third was an exceptionally bright classmate of mine from my crème-d-la crème public school, who refused to take any chances, produced a fake certificate from her native village collector in Assam, went to IIT D again, and then IIM A and now sells soap in a top-tier FMCG firm. I neither went to IIT D or IIM A and I have nothing against the three. They did well for themselves, and so did I in my own meager ways. I wish them well.

There are those who argue that the reason why most quota students don’t do well in higher education is because the curriculum is in English- a language of the elite in our country, and thus a natural advantage to the general category. For such arguments I shall offer another personal experience. I went to an engineering college in a village in Gujarat with an extremely vernacular set of students. The curriculum was in English and hugely technical at that. I got straight As in all courses that year as the rest of the class spent their time translating class notes to Gujarati. However, the tables were turned very soon, as the rest of the diligent Gujarati class picked up the language through the dint of their hard work. My advantage disappeared and so did my rank. Somehow, I finished second at the end of four years, way behind a guy who had never studied English before he came here, and marginally ahead of another such girl. But I should mention that not one of the guitar swinging, Floyd chanting tribal students managed to get past their first semester courses. Soon they joined the ranks of academic outlaws for the rest of the years I spent there.

But today when I see this subject being discussed on TV in talk shows, I see certain things that I didn’t back then in 199- probably only because my stakes in the matter are much lower. At least, till the same applies to jobs in the private sector. I see the reactions of a predominantly “upper caste” audience to their minority counterparts and am filled with solid self-doubt. We as a generation were taught about India’s glorious history for years at a stretch. We were fed with the greatness of our kings, emperors and freedom fighters. They were stories of valour, greatness, of sacrifice and filled us with pride. The caste system appeared only as a footnote in a boring Civics textbook, and at a time by when we were already heady with our bubbly past. In the college years we were fed with pipe dreams of the Wild West, of a student visa, a Scholarship, and of GRE and GMAT, and dollar salaries after all that.

More recently, we’ve had everyone and their mother telling us the India Shining story. With well-padded pockets, fast cars and air-conditioned homes, who in their right minds has the time to ponder upon issues such as social inequality and injustice- about that footnote from the yesteryears? We were too busy digging our fingers in the sacks of gold, and to spend the money on things we didn’t need fuelled by ads we didn’t really see. About three years back, I cancelled my subscription to the Economic and Political Weekly – my only link to the grass root social reality of the country and with it vanished whatever little remained of my social conscience.

Given this context it is understandable that today’s urban youth considers a move such as this merely divisive and regressive (I don’t entirely disagree with). Unfortunately, its not quite as simple. It is really something else. A decade of arguably superficial prosperity cannot wipe away a millennium of old social framework. Today’s urban and to an extent rural opulence to a great extent serves to distract from India’s dismal political performance. At some point of time, we have to stop looking the other way (yes, yes) and pay up for the actions of generations gone by. The social deprivation, which has been consolidated for a thousand years, cannot be wished away just that like that. Yes, we have established great institutions of learning and industry. Yes, we have at least on paper enforced land reform- actually the implementation bit is true only of West Bengal. Yes, we have great socio-economic reform projects sanctioned. But there remains the implementation dilemma- the problem of access. Reservation is often argued with meritocracy but when 99 per cent of the people who clear the JEE have been to coaching classes to reach there, one must spare a thought for those who have no wherewithal to pay up school fees. One wonders whether they’ll ever be able to cough up the dough for FIITJEE and IMS. Will Dr. Bansal of Kota make an exception for even his own gardener’s son? Which brings me to my next point. That of who are really Backward Class and the entire economic aspect of the issue.


My Mum teaches in a state-run school in New Delhi. Most of her students are extremely poor, not being able to afford even the token two rupees a month school fees. Children of Dhobis, gardeners, rickshaw pullers, vegetable vendors, sweepers and scavengers- the lot. Most of whom are sent to school for the free meals and the wool for the sweaters given once a year. I have never attended any of her classes but given that she was the one responsible our tutelage at home (public school unlike public health is a fun experience); and since me and my sister (a gold medallist onco-surgeon) turned out quite nicely; and since my parents come from the compassionate, hard-working, honest stock I can only assume that she spares no effort at that school. But recently all sixty students in one of her classes failed, among other subjects in mathematics- something my Mum ensured that we took seriously and were good at.

In the witch-hunt that ensued, my very stressed and upset mother insisted that she had no hope in hell to fight the system which sends a child from a school to the nearest scavenging dump or to a far away subzi-mandi. The kind, which misses school for a month to do the housework as their malnourished mother, recovers slowly from her seventh childbirth in a dysfunctional public hospital. Who only gets one meal a day, the one given for free at school. Who has no electricity, and whose father comes home drunk and ensures that there is absolutely no environment or motivation for homework. If this is the situation in the capital of the country, I dread to think about what things must be like elsewhere.

The limited point that I am trying to make in this overtly verbose post is that reservation is hardly the panacea to entangle the mess of our social fabric that any way predates the Dark Ages. However, it definitely is the one that creates maximum electoral impact. It is at best a sexy headline, with no content to back it up. Which is probably why even after close to sixty years of having intensive reservation the poor and the backward remain just where they were- in the dumps. And of course while all other social reform measures are expensive, there need not be any additional budgetary allocation towards reservation. So while such a move serves the purpose of grabbing headlines and votes, the entire political and bureaucratic system can continue lining their pockets from the lavish spend on other irrational social schemes that are supposed to serve to eliminate this inequality. Of course I do have this debatable notion that a long-term solution to India’s caste system fuelled social inequality does not augur well for the future of Indian polity. It basically takes the piss out of the whole thing. Really, I see little future of a resolution if it is left to politicians to sort out this mess. Small question- why doesn’t someone shoot all our politicians in the gut? Social reform is long overdue in our country and will probably remain that way in my lifetime. Especially, because more than anything else caste and inequality have assumed in our country huge political contours.

Nearly fifteen years back I had taken the streets on this matter. I am not sure I would do it again. Today a large OBC section of the audience in an NDTV talk show walked out threatening to settle matters in the streets. Even more worrisome is that one prominent caste leader called Whatsizname, speaks of doing the same thing on national TV- and I see a divide coming up, in our schools, in our colleges and in our workplaces. Perhaps a civil war. But I guess in the end everyone will just get over it and the unreserved category will just work twice as hard, or leave the country and seek fortunes abroad. I will also soon switch channels to watch the Man United and Arsenal game. Man U will go on to win that 2-0. I will forget and so will NDTV and resume their near 24-hour coverage of the Lakme Fashion Week instead. Who cares? After all “Yahan pe toh sab chalta hai- char ke seat mein chhai log baith jayenge. Yeh toh apne khoon mein hain. Thoda aur adjust kar lenge!”

Soul Purpose

Last night- we spoke. A sleepy me, in bed, (un)dressed to retire. You had just woken up. And for some reason had thought of calling me- perhaps because your reason to be in Jersey City was in Atlanta. My 30 bucks a month caller ID service does not extend to International calls. So I had no choice but to take the call. Could’ve been Buch. Or anyone else.

You spoke: in short sleepy sentences. I responded mostly in grunts: while flipping through inane TV channels; lest words betray more than is intended. But what’s there to hide? You had bared it all- so many years back. In black and white: on a train between Lucerne and Interlaken. And I …

I don’t think you remember the effect your sleepy voice had on me- the slow, sexy drag of syllables; the soft truncation of verbs. Perhaps, you do. 9AM was always early for you- whether in Nepeansea Road or in Jersey City. 11PM was always late for me.

Sooner or later, you will, for sure, get over me. Terminally. So will I. And then, we shall look back and laugh.

Or perhaps I should ask, why does love linger? Why is it that for some people the term “separation” doesn’t apply? Only existence. Or for that matter “the Significant Other”? Just an extension of the Self.

Random Walk Theory

These days it is not often that I get the time to visit Bandstand at mid-night. It used to be a regular activity a few years back, when AK and CDC used to live close by

First coffee at Reclamation Barista
The stunning shimmer of the moon
The crisp noise of the creased sea surface
The slight breeze making ruffling sounds as it makes its way through the shrubs
The mindless banter of us three,
The useless search for a dustbin - to throw disposable coffee mugs
And some sepia-tinted memories, wafting in and out
Mindlessly, taking turns, at wise-cracks and making smoke rings
All lost with a shrill cop whistle
A long walk back to their house
Winding through Mt. Mary- up hill, down hill
AK on some international call
CDC taking my trip,
Me lusting after her sister.

Breathless.

All that and so much more

Hmmm…

I had forgotten how beautiful it could be.

Last night again- the familiar steps. Thinking alternatively about Sree and the some movie I saw- one making me curiously happy, the other drowning me into a cold vat of sorrow. The joy of belonging, the anguish of loss. It was a long, long walk. There was time for memories, for pondering, for exhilaration, and hope. Everything at once. The breeze was soft, balmy; and my thoughts were painted a hue of the silvery moon. Purple-pink blossoms everywhere. The lazy pre-summer sea, characteristically quiet.

Some random thoughts-
Will I manage to wake up on time tomorrow? RSP has to be the biggest JERK on this planet. Do clones have souls? Bombay is unusually flowery this spring. Why isn’t it always this pleasant? I am definitely not going to class this Sunday. Is it time to head back, yet? Where are all the cops? Perhaps no one comes here any more at this time. Not even jilted lovers. Do I like Sree? Or even Ms. P? Is liking a person, and liking their company the same thing? Will Dollar Yen trade at 115.80 tomorrow?

Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.- Charlie Brown

Thinking About the "M" Word

It Happened One Night

Dedicated bachelor and more "scoundrel" than your average Han Solo, Peter Warne (Clark Gable) talks about his philosophy on love.

Thinking About the "M" Word

Peter Warne: Sure, I've thought about it. Who hasn't? If I could ever meet the right sort of girl. Ahh, where you gonna find her? Somebody that's real, somebody that's alive! They don't come like that way anymore. Have I ever thought about it? Boy, I've even been sucker enough to make plans. You know, I saw an island in the Pacific once, never been able to forget it. That's where I'd like to take her. She'd have to be the sort of a girl who'd ... ohh ... jump in the surf with me, and love it as much as I did. You know, the nights when you and the moon and the water all become one? And you feel you're part of something big and marvelous. That's the only place to live -- where the stars are so close over your head, you feel you could reach up and stir them around. Certainly, I've been thinking about it.

written by Samuel Hopkins Adams & Robert Riskin