Last week I received a copy of the book “Games Indians play” from a friend which happens to be one of the most thought provoking works I have read since Taleb. I love Probability Theories and may be that is the reason why I found it gripping.The pessimism, the author caters towards our society though disappoints us a lot is perfectly warranted given the abysmal state in which our country is in. The premise on which the book is built is known to all of us, but is brushed aside as a phase which we will pass once we as a country grow consistently GDPwise. We as a society “is” structurally flawed. The truth we ignore blissfully seeing the small flyovers and metro rails sprouting across our cities. The author uses the prisoner’s dilemma and game theory in analysing, how Indians behave collectively to a scenario. We aggressively pursue a selfish course, forgetting how damaging it is to our growth as a strong civilization which can flourish together abiding the “Rule of Law”.
I am not proceeding into a detailed analysis of the book which would do a disservice to someone looking forward to read it. Thanks Ais for “Games Indians Play”. You have always been bang on when it comes to things I would enjoy and despise. Month end blues prevents me from returning the gesture, but I wish you a Wonderful Lizard free Diwali. :P
I think it was Malcom Gladwell who espoused the theory of weak tie. A weak tie is the casual connections(not friends) you have with varying degree. Gladwell argues that the number of weak ties is directly responsible to your social success. I have always bemoaned my inability to remember names, faces and sometimes events. Recently a friend from school reminded me of a story I wrote when I was in 10th. Though I have a vague recollection of writing something, I am unable to remember what it was all about. The cornerstone of any fruitful relationship is your ability to store details. A friend of mine who claims to know all his 600 odd friends in face book first hand is an expert in weak ties. He still remembers the name of school kids with whom we attended a summit 3 years ago, whereas I find it hard to recollect the name of the runner for my travel agent in Aurangabad who claimed that he had been to Thodapada in Kerala(It took me 20 mins of Q&A to encrypt it to Thodupuzha). Even though we ended up having a smoke together, his name and face still eludes me. Same applies to the innumerable people I knew in Chennai(including a wonderful person who used to sell the sweetest tender coconut water for me because his mother was from Vadasserikkara close to Sabarimala). It is not simply about making friendship with absolute strangers, but about sustaining it through Facebook or Emails or Phone. It is also about a sound brain which can recreate the image of the person even after years of your last encounter.
Recently a colleague from Cognizant pinged me out of the blue. She used to be this quintessential sloth in those days. I used to start at 6 O clock in the morning and would wait for her to come at 10 o clock, so that I can pass the mantle and go for my breakfast. The princess would arrive at 10 and directly head to the ladies room. It would take normally 30 to 40 minutes for her to come out and I used to wonder what transpired inside. Finally out of sheer frustration I asked another friend from a different team to check what she did in the ladies room all the time. And yes my doubt was not unfounded. The lady was varnishing her face with all the Nerolacs and Apex Ultimas to weather the gruelling work of the sweat shop. Over that she used to take leave citing strange reasons like, “Yesterday my cousin committed suicide, so her parents wants to transfer her assets to my name. Today is the registration”, “A thief broke into my house and stabbed me on the chest and you know what the news came in yesterday’s Hindu” and this is my persona favourite “Das... Das...
The incident actually opened my eyes on how bad I am in utilising or even knowing my weak ties. Here was a girl, whom I thought was dumb, selling a product to a guy whom she hardly knew, by remembering that he had pimples. This utilitarian approach to friendship is something which I avoid because I find a moral dilemma in that. I believe friendship or its fuel love, should be independent of reasons, with no strings attached. You cannot befriend a person expecting something from him/her and that is where my conception of weak ties falls apart. A friend called me on my Birthday and wished me without a notification from Facebook. When I asked her how she remembered, she replied, “That is You and Me”. I was simply bowled over by that surprising gesture. But the painful part is I don’t remember her birthday. So I have reconciled to the fact that I am not the kind of person who will have a lot of weak ties. Social success will be elusive and facebook would make matters worse by accentuating my laziness to travel the extra mile. Thus I bid adieu to all networks and circles for the time being to reflect on what kind of strange species I belong to. Maybe time would bring me back, but then it would be a different network, different circle and most importantly a different person.
She is back. I was wondering for months, why Ms Arundhati Roy was keeping quiet when the urban middle class of this country was flooding the streets with Anti Corruption Slogans, waving the tri colour, shouting Bharat Mata Ki Jai. From my reading of Ms Roy’s works I was expecting a violent outburst in the form of an essay when the Anti Corruption movement became popular Television News. Ms Roy’s distaste towards Jingoism in the form of National Flag, apparently Hindu Version of Nationalism like ‘Bharat Mata’ and ‘Vande Mataram’ is well known. Add to that we have a set of youth who from a distance can be tagged easily as ‘Urban Upper Caste Hindu’, I expected a violent outburst from Ms Roy. And we got it on August 21st in India’s own ‘People’s daily’- http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/lead/article2379704.ece . The potpourri that even the most degraded yellow journalist would be ashamed of conceiving simply because the person she is vilifying is a 74 year old man who has lived a life of austerity with his paltry pension and tried to change something around him for better.
I am replying to Ms Roy’s essay, rather than just ignoring it simply because I like her works, especially the latest ones about the plight of Adivasis in our country. I truly support her causes for Inclusive Growth in the story of India. But when she exhorts to her Self Styled Liberal audience that protest of a certain section of this country(read Urban Hindu Middle Class) is always with insidious intention, when she argues that everyone in the protest has a blemished past, when she tags them as opportunistic because they are silent about other Struggles of common people in this country, every cell of my body prompts me to respond to my favourite English Language Author.
The essay starts with the usual mockery on Vande Mataram and similar slogans. Yes they have a Hindu past. Put the ones who are protesting has the right to raise the slogans they wish. You cannot dictate the slogans that adhere to the Secular tenets set by Liberal Left to give them Legitimacy. I heard Inquilab Zindabad and other Revolutionary slogans on the streets. Does that make them Marxists? Does that make them less Indian?
Next is the non inclusion of Adivasis in the Jan Lokpal Camapaign. If you check the annals of history, Indian Independence Struggle was lead and populated by the very same non Adivasis. The struggle of Adivasis for Land is as important as a strong Anti Corruption Law. But the two issues do not converge at any point and it is misleading to tell that Anna Movement is top down. Today morning I was talking to a Newspaper Vendor and a Chaiwallah. They were excited and hopeful about the movement. They believed in Anna and his ideals. The Anna movement is not a movement of Urban, better off people. It is slowly getting a Pan India approval.
You were an ‘honoured guest’ in Tihar Jail back in 2002 for one day in connection with Narmada Bachao Andolan. So you would be a better person to answer whether a person loses credibility if he/she stays in Tihar as an ‘honoured guest’.
The most controversial and purposeful twisting of facts comes in the paragraph where Ms Roy asks what the fast has to do with other legitimate struggles across the nation. I wish to ask Ms Roy, why she is silent about numerous rapes happening in her home state Kerala, why she is silent about the widespread land encroachment done by Marxist party members in Idukki district especially in Munnar(is it because there is land encroachment charges against her in MP?- Oh yes there are lot of ‘Sober Journalists’ in the country who can dig your past as well). Is it because you don’t mind crimes being committed against women and Adivasis in Kerala? Is Narmada Bachao Andolan and Land Grabbing by Mining companies in Central India more important issues? The simple answer is an individual cannot fight all battles and win it. As Ms Arundhati Roy has certain causes, Mr Hazare has a different set of causes, Mr Kejriwal and Ms Bedi will have another set of causes. Nobody becomes holier because they fight for one particular legitimate issue. Nor is a person inferior because he/she did not lend his voice to a certain group of people. Mudslinging of Gandhiji is always done on the same premise, stating that he did not join hands with Negroes in South Africa in their fight. Does that make him a lesser Mahatma?
About Mr Raj Thackrey and Mr Modi, I can only say that a person has the right to voice his opinion. Appreciation of Mr Modi’s governance is a personal comment of Mr Hazare and it should be viewed in that angle alone. At no point did Mr Hazare endorse Mr Modi’s action/inaction during 2002 riots in Gujarat.
Then Ms Roy goes on listing funding towards Mr Kejriwal’s and Mr Sisodia’s NGOs. I would like to just point out that compared to Ms Roy enjoying money received from Booker Group infamous for slave trade in 19th and 20th Century, receiving funding from Ford Foundation would be lesser evil. Gandhiji lived in Birla House where he died fighting for India’s poor and weak. Birla House was the donation of Birla Group. I hope that does not prompt you to call Gandhiji a corporate stooge.
830 million of Indians living below Rs 20 a day is gross misrepresentation of facts. I don’t see even the most conservative economist putting India’s poor above 300 million.
Finally you are confused about the role of government in fighting corruption. Will it help if we have a powerful watchdog or should that role be given to NGOs(doing social audit)? As usual you fail to provide alternate models.
I don’t support Janlokpal Bill in its present form. I agree with you about the result- Creation of Two Oligarchies. The extra burden of finally bribing the Lokpal Official as well. But that does not give you the reason to bark like a Mad Dog at a 74 year old person, call him casteist and fanatic,throw mud at Mr Kejriwal and Mr Sisodia who have equal rights as you have to protest and shout(sometimes at higher decibels than you) for their causes.
Let everyone discuss, fight and talk about corruption. Let us patiently hear all solutions for combating the menace called Corruption including the one put forth by left leaning Ms Aruna Roy. If you have a solution please share that as well. Blemishing people who are fighting for a right cause is unbecoming of social activist of your stature. You did the same when Amir Khan joined the Narmada Bachao Andolan. Is it that only a person who is female by sex, Syrian Christian by caste, Architect by education, writer by choice has the right to be protest in this country?
By
An Upper Caste Hindu- Who supports reservation.
An Urban Youth- Who oppose atrocities against Adivasis.
A Nationalist(who sometimes shouts Vande Mataram)- Who has Muslim friends.
“Dantewada yahan se 200 km door hain. Waha bahuth naxal log hothe he sir”. Vijay was in no mood to stop talking when he was driving along the muddy road to Indian Steel Company in Basti Village. My heart was beating faster as we got nearer. My Manager was blissfully unaware of what we were upto. I had got clear warning from the Head Office that 2 bankers who had gone near the company for symbolic possession were beaten up. Others were unwilling to go. I jumped into the bandwagon without knowing all this.
The route from railway station was pristine and unblemished by concrete and cement structures. Paddy fields and small huts adorned both sides of road. I felt I was back at home. As we turned to the mud track leading to the company, Vijay the driver said that the main road goes to Orissa which is just 2 kms away. I was thinking about passages from“The Broken Republic” written by Arundhati Roy. Most of the villagers would lose their habitat and livelihood once their land is acquired for power plants and coal mines. They may be given jobs or compensation for giving up their fields. But that would be just prolonging the misery ahead. There are around 7 power plants around the Champa region. 26 new projects are coming. The ecological impact these factories would make on the region could be devastating. I thought of the comment by a leading fiction writer that India should mine all the minerals from these forests and paddy fields, and then we can all become rich. Most of the middle class Indians subscribe to such simplistic and preposterous ideas. The Midnight’s children had a lot of tall dreams about our country’s progress with Five Year Plans and Gram Swaraj, but Manmohan’s children(the ones born around 90s which includes me) have a completely different world view. The five year plans and poverty alleviation is replaced by demands for more malls and more bandwidth. The development of a region is gauged these days by the range in the mobile phone. I don’t know which side I am in. I look out after my small reverie and see the giant burners and the watch tower of the Steel plant. The road has gone from bad to worse. I tell Vijay to stop at some corner of the building so that we can paste the notice and take a photograph without inviting any attention. The sun had already come out in full glow, but nobody seems to have woken up to guard the route. I was getting a bit uncomfortable with the eerie silence.
My Regional Manager asks Vijay to take the car to the front gate to my shock. I cursed my fate for jumping into this suicide. Vijay slowly passed the watch gate, pulled up just enough with a rope for a small car to cross. When we reached the front gate I could not see any activity happening inside the company. As two guards halted us and asked what we were doing, we moved on unheeded. We had the supreme safety of the window panes of the Tata Indica. As we returned to the chowk, the Regional Manager asked Vijay to stop at some vacant corner of the boundary wall for pasting the possession notice. But people had already got crowded at the Watch gate. We replied that we took a wrong turn when they asked us our whereabouts. As we reached an empty corner, I applied gum to the notice and handed it over to my Manager. He hopped out and run towards the tall brick wall, as he was pasting the notice, I took some snaps of it. Suddenly I heard howling from the side of the watch gate. The workers were running towards us. I started to sweat. All of us got into the car and we started in full speed. After some distance we noticed two bikes following us. They overtook us at a particular point and my heart beat became normal. Suddenly I saw a railway gate which was getting closed before us. I saw the men from the company sitting with the gate man. I knew what was going to happen next.
Around 10 bikes most of them with 3 guys on it followed. They started banging on the window panes. Vijay asked innocently, “Aap kyun nahin bathaye?”Vijay opened the glass and the leader of the gang grabbed his collar. He snatched the papers from me and roared “To Tum Bank se aayo hon Saale....”. I got out of the car and went to the Leader, patiently explained to him in my inadequate Hindi that he can delete the photos that we took and tear off the notice. We don’t want any fight. He was in no mood to relent to my request and asked Vijay to take the car back to the company. I told the leader to take my seat in the car and I myself climbed into the pillion of one of the bikes. I tried to befriend the guy driving the bike. His name was Vikas Yadav and he was doing his Mcom. He told they were not paid by the company since April because plant had shut down because of heavy losses. I told I was doing my job and he should make sure nothing untoward would happen if we oblige them. There are no martyrs in Capitalism. It is futile to be a Hero when you are trying to do your daily job. Vikas assured me nothing would happen.
Once we reached the Watch gate, an old man came in a car. He had a long moustache. He was visibly agitated and asked us where we were from. He shouted that it is not proper to come at night and paste notices like thieves. I said it was morning, but he continued with his monologue. Finally he cooled down and said we were their guests and providers(as we have lent them money), but what we did was wrong. He introduced himself as Mr Jain. He said he was a Mazdoor.I observed him closely. He had the latest Blackberry phone and an expensive watch. He should be a really high paid Mazdoor. He asked us to sit in the chair brought to us. The scene changed suddenly from hostility to an uncomfortable camaraderie. Mr Jain spoke about the recession and subsequent crisis the company faces. He said they did not have captive mines which resulted in heavy losses when the supply was cut down suddenly by traders. I knew this as I had read their files .It was the result of the myopic vision of the company.. He was not telling anything new. I started getting bored with his rant. He said 7 bankers had come 3 days ago with police protection and the workers and their family, around 1000 of them prevented them from taking symbolic possession. We were obviously stupid to go their alone. I told we had been unaware of the ground reality and we were just doing our job.
The digital camera was taken to the Systems division of the company. In the mean time Jeevanand, the leader was throwing obscenities around him and us. He was high on Paan and something else. Another car came in few minutes. A tall guy wearing shorts got out. Vikas told me he was the Tecnical officer. He gave the camera back to us. He asked the workers to frisk us. I gave my phones. The Technical Officer lightened up when he saw the Hadimba Temple from my Manali trip last month. He corrected it as Hidimba temple named after Hidimbi, wife of Bheema. Finally they asked us to do as much as we can to restructure their debt. The regional manager promised that he would try. I also told Vikas and Anand that things would get better. All the photos we took near the company were deleted and the camera was returned.
As we returned I knew we had made empty promises to the hapless workers. Mr Jain and the Technical Officer would return to the greener pastures once the right opportunity came (or are they stuck there because of some stupid ideal? I don’t know). The promoters would go to new banks to borrow more for some new unsustainable venture. The banks would find new crooks to fund. The workers would be left with the concrete structure getting rusted before them. Their fields and home under it. Yes they had become rich, with steel and minerals at their backyards. Mobile towers all around powering their mobile phones 24 hours.
As my colleagues proceeded to the nearby town to see the advocate, I took a 1 hour bus ride to the nearby Industrial area. It was called the power capital of the state. The bus was full of village folks. They had a dusty texture to the skin, probably because of the Koyla mined out at every corner. Paddy fields and Power plants existed side by side on the way to the town. A Hyundai showroom had come up to cater to the needs of Immigrant engineers who ran the power plants. A Pajero and BMW were parked outside the small Dhaba were I ate my lunch. I saw farmers, beggars and factory workers living together in what looked like a fleeting harmony.
The new battle lines of my country would be on these towns. The farmers would continue becoming unskilled labourers and would be fired at the next recession when demand comes down. They will not have savings or land to sustain themselves. The unrest is here to continue in the heart of India. We will all be players in it. The air-conditioned buildings of Bangalore and Delhi would not save us from the ire of these angry youth. I pray to the unknown God to save my country on my way back. Before reaching back to office tomorrow I have to retrieve the photos they deleted from the camera. There are no heroes in capitalism, in the world that is flat, for the sons of Manmohan.