Middle class perceptions of threat

" Police mulling over increasing security cover for XYZ and ABC"- something that comes in the paper frequently.

In place of XYZ and ABC substitute the name of anyone from the industrial-bollywood-political complex. The infinite combination of names is enough to make the common middle class Indian cower , busy as he is, shielding himself from droughts, bomb blasts, floods, landslides, taxes, job losses, medical bills, school and college admissions and so on.

According to psychologist Daniel Gilbert of Harvard, the main features of a threat perception are , that they are a product of human intention, they violate our moral sensibilities, they represent an immediate problem, and they appear suddenly or grow rapidly.

By this definition, the bomb blasts qualify. If we interpret human intention as global warming, even the floods and droughts qualify. The farmer suicides violate my moral sensibilities. Those people who sell drugs are then also a threat on all four counts. The kings of corruption also force themelves into consideration , whether its being done with finesse or blatant disregard, like they do for educational admissions sometimes. Land sharks, who sell shanty glamour to those smitten by the lights of Mumbai, exploit their tenants, and kill any decent human beings who try to help, are to me, the highest form of threat .

Maybe its just me who percieves these as threats. Its probably just a middle class way of looking at things.

And so we have leaders who refuse to step out without 35 policemen , rifles-ready, distributed in 4 cars , that buzz around everywhere the leader wants to go. An actor wants to attend a felicitation for being a brand ambassador of something that costs a few lakhs (" a pittance , you know"), and our diligent law enforcement agencies rush in to enhance protection. A general gradation of protection, ensures that someone or the other always hankers for extra stuff. Its like a child who played tennis-ball cricket being shown a season ball ; getting it , then becomes paramount.

The question is , does the common man like you and me fit in anywhere?

What about the perception of threat faced by young girls residing in slums ? What about the perceptions of threat faced by a new bride, who is constantly berated for not bringing in sufficient dowry ? What about the very high perception of threat , faced by senior citizens staying alone ? What about the very real perception of threat faced by a woman found expecting a female child , and being forced to do something about it ?

What about the perception of threat by a student , reeling under the pressure of obtaining a successful result in an examination, and having doubts about the outcome ? What about the perception of threat by a young girl, who has spurned unwelcome advances , and faces disfigurement by acid, because of criminal gutless behaviour on the part of a maladjutsed youth ?

Have we done anything about this?

Yes. We have seen Terrorism at its worst. Visible enhanced police presence for some who are more equal than others seems to be the way we handle the problem. And , while in some cases this may be the most sensible solution, in many cases its a knee-jerk reaction where we fail to analyse why the person is considered a target in the first place.

Time was when , in those enchanting televisionless days, as kids, we saw Panditji unfurling the Flag, when they showed the Independence day celebrations in the Indian News Revew, in cinema halls. He stood tall , proud, and imposing ,in solitary splendour and every schoolkid was so impressed. Today, any school kid can identify the tall smart people standing dispersed amongst the crowd on the dias, eyes darting, sometimes staring straight ahead, but looking elsewhere, hands on their pockets.

There was just one man, who feared none; probably faced threats, but percieved none; and he led us to our Independence, along with many like him. He faced bullets. I wonder what he would have thought of us, close to 60 years down the line .

Strike when the city is hot............

We, in the city of Mumbai, are uniquely blessed.

This must be the only city in the world, where the government plays a leading part in building up the character and guts of the people. Reminds me of stories where children are made to do obstacle races , and folks in the armed forces do tough boot camps , all in the name of "toughening up". Ever since womens issues have been highlighted the world over, we must be the only country, where hardship training for women is conducted, perennially, thanks to the various transport systems.

We have a unique city layout, long and mean. The folks who end up working the hardest often end up staying furthest away from their workplaces. Some of them take several modes of transport to work. The government doesnt want any of them to miss out on the character and physique building. So roads are dug up, year after year, by specialised diggers, so that those taking buses home can learn the fine art of balance and gender issues. An additional bonus, is that this throws the bus timetable out of gear, and they get crowded abnormally. Not to worry. They always wanted to give combat training to the women. This way they dont have to spend any extra time on it. A high level study trip to Israel showed some other methods, but we prefer these.


Just in case buses are NOT your cup of tea, we have trains with windows , where you get to practice the fine art of dodging stuff targeted by those indulging in target practice from outside; except this is a target moving at high speed. . Good for neck mobility. You will never get spondilytis, thanks to all those thoughtful netas who encourage people to live defiantly by the tracks. No parks near your house ? Why worry ? Fighting your way through a railway compartment to get out at a station, and running down railway bridges with worn out slippery steps, all to catch the train that will start moving in 5 seconds, will give you a new high, mentally as well as physically. Whats a little fracture here and there ?

Globalisation is here. It means less local stuff, and more global stuff. Designating a sister city to Mumbai is important stuff. High level types need to go study sewage treatment in, say, Venice. Its all that water flowing around, you see. They have gondolas. We have navy boats in Kalina . Inspiring , na ?

In the meanwhile, even nature conspires to help out the authorities. Year after year, the rains comes crashing down. Of course the authorities have washed their hands off all that high tides-and-floods stuff. Like the Tennyson chap said, tides may come and tides may go, but WE go on forever. People must learn . Its all part of the hardship education. Manhole covers , designed to be detachable, are a brilliant choice for introducing a surprise element in this water hardship training. All this water panic also ensures that the police on duty are unable to go home, simply as they cannot travel . Built in vigilance training. Wah ! , Someone who got stuck on 26/7 in 2005, decided to learn swimming and paid a thousand rupees to learn. If only she had waited till this year. She could have learned it in a very natural manner, while travelling to work and back, for FREE..

Actually, the government must be applauded for even thinking of students. It ensures that despite the age of IT, students get to practice hardship, thanks to hanging websites, changing timetables, late result declarations, and a general cattle herding, fee grabbing approach to new admissions. Your child in school ? He needs to carry a few more books to streghthen his spine, so they have now introduced more tests. Dont want spineless youth, do we ?

If those up there, point the way, can others be far behind?

So we have government agencies, like nationalised banks and incometax office people climbing on to the hardship training bandwagon. They take care of the mental toughening of the people of Mumbai.

So just when people are still reeling from grevious losses, personal, monetary, and otherwise, the IT folks did their bit. First they had ads where they said, file your tax or we will catch you . (Its all designed to shake up those of us, who thought we could gradually deal with the recent catstrophe and then deal with the IT deadline of July 31. ) The IT wallas will Strike, not attend office, as they are unhappy about some rules , which were probably made long ago.

They have now inspired our Banks, also to declare a strike. A token one day strike , that incidentally happens to append to a weekend. But the timing is a class act in introducing a new hardship concept for people. Your salary comes, but you dont get to use it. And never mind the days lost working because of the floods, the blasts, the injuries. Its so important that retiring bank employees get the correct pension scheme. everything else can wait.

Its called 'Striking when the City is Hot".

strike : v. m : to hit .
hot : adj m: angry

Resilience in the time of Rudeness

Words have specific meanings. Words like Spirit. Resilience. Coming from the mouths of those whose entire career is based on buying and selling of human votes and emotions, they almost sound like abuse.

For years together, its been a pattern. Grandiose plans are made to safeguard people. Committees with names and unpronouncable acronyms are established. The head of the committee, his prestige doesnt depend on what good work he does, but whether he has a car with a flashing light and a siren, and a police constable hanging on for dear life to the car. Meetings are held. No one talks of any expenditures less than several hundred crores. Lips are licked in anticipation of being designated a supplier of stuff to the office. Networks buzz overtime . Maharashtra asks. The centre reduces, or sometimes, even refuses.

We have heard for years that the police force needs to be augmented . They dont have money for it. Statues in the sea are more important. Statues in parks are even more important. They feel no shame withdrawing police from after-hours duty in the ladies compartment of trains, and putting them on security detail at railway stations, post the blast. Why the security detail could not be drawn from all those politicians who are granted X,Y and Z+ security (for their families as well), is not clear. What is clear is that families of these folks need complicated security, so they can drive and spend relaxing time at the various posh coffeeshops and restaurants and malls around town.

Why should a train carrying working women, returning home after a crushing day at the office, not looking forward to a two hour crowded commute, cutting vegetables in the train to save time, be given protection from predating males , who have traumatised and maimed so many women in an about to be empty comaprtment, in the recent past? These guardians of our law and order , prefer to morally police us. Energy is expended in banning bar dancers, slapping court cases on your political rivals, and basically forgetting the people who put you there in the first place.

The recent blasts in mumbai, proved all over again, that we dont really need a government in Maharashtra. When the crunch comes, the people of mumbai are absolutely capable of taking care of themselves, and whats more , others. Within an hour of the blast, the various injured were well on their way to hospitals , if not actually already admitted. The "aam janata" came out on to the highways and arterial roads to stop vehicles, and request them to take passengers in their cars, those folks that were stuck miles away from their houses due to the blasts. Entire building societies chipped in with blankets , food stuff and transport; the slumdwellers who may not know if they will have a house next week, ran out with bedsheets for transporting patients, and climbed into the train to extricate the casualties, using whatever little they had at hand. College students returning home, found out that they could help the police control the traffic and keep things a bit more organised.

And people who I cant classify (and wont classify) under any category but saviours, even stood out in the rain handing water bottles, tea, hot snacks , food packets and even simple accomodation , to those people returning home from work, standing for miles together , crushed in a bus, because their train was blown up, and others were stopped; and those unknown folks who stayed on at hospitals , contacting relatives, comforting the hurt till some family member turned up.

They did this in the recent floods, and now the blasts. And they will do it again, beacuse its ingrained. (Readers Digest , please note: one cannot learn this, like eg, saying thank you, wishing others, holding open doors . Some of the folks we are talking about , dont even have a door, forget holding it open. Some get all embarrased if you say thank you to them, and almost feel insulted. And i cant think of a more useless thing to do than say "Nice day, isnt it?", while hanging on to 5 square inches of an open door in a moving train, trying to avoid torrential rain, or a burning summer day. )

That is what one calls the spirit. Resilience is the ability to keep on showing this spirit, blast after blast, flood after flood, carnage after carnage, one inefficient shameless government after another.

Our so called elected representatives dont need to waste their time passing resolutions in the legislature, when they should actually be amidst the people who elected them , trying to make their lives a bit more tolerable. Announcing Rs 50,000 dole to those injured, and Rs 1 Lakh to those dead , is not the end of the responsibility. The government should ensure that money needed for special medicines for the blast patients is directly paid to the municipal and state hospitals. Relatives of patients shouldnt have to trudge in and out of hospital buying medicines written up by doctors. The Railways, also announce a monetary compensation. I can just see a bunch of unscrupulous ears perking up and hands being rubbed in glee by people who see a great source of income , on the side in all this, ensuring that papers move.

And there needs to be a rule that only the Prime Minsiter and /or Home minister can come and visit the scene of the catastrophe. Seeing a politician holding your hand, and mouthing inane nothings, has nothing to do in improving your vital signs like heart beat, blood pressure, etc. For them its a photo opportunity. A Khota opportunity , if you really want to know. And all those cars that swish into the hospital porch , supposedly as security detail for the politicians, simply end up splashing monsoon dirt on those waiting outside, not knowing if someone is dead or alive, and what direction their life will take from now on.

So those in power need to stop commenting on Mumbais spirit and resilience. It sounds like a convenient thing in the mouths of the parasitic, moneyvorous people in power. It almost sounds like abuse , from the mouths of those that know not what it really means.

Learn something from the one man, who despite being elected , has never been a politician , and despite being elected by a party, has never really belonged to it.

Dr Manmohan Singh, the PM. Three days after the blast, he and his wife paid a visit to the hospitals . One patient, with one leg and one arm fractured , sat up to salute him. Those with visceral burn injuries tried to give a hint of a smile , so pleased they were to see him. Patients couldnt stop talking about the empathy that radiated from the man and his good wife as they made their rounds, quietly reassuring people, strong and firm. Then he got on television and sent a no nonsense message acrross the border, with no sparing of words.

Governing in Maharashtra is all about squabbling and power, and talking rot. And , of course , making money . These guys dont deserve an electorate like the people of Mumbai.

Mumbai has the SPIRIT and RESILIENCE despite them.

It will continue to have it, irrespective of blasts, floods, carnages, and moneyvorous politicians.

And never mind those guys who declared us the rudest people on earth.

(Maybe they simply looked at our politicians. Eat you words, Readers digest. ).

The Tall Wall

I am not a cricket fanatic. i dont spout statistics at the drop of a hat. God knows, leg , to me is an antomical part and not a field area, and I realise that a point has several intriguing properties, but being silly is not one of them.

However, as a inhabitant of Mumbai, (where road traffic is a function of the crisis level in a test match being played thousands of miles away, as well as the batting of a Tendulkar or Dhoni,) throughout the last several cricket series, there is something that has stood out in all its shining glory.


Rahul Dravid.


Here is a guy who thinks . Thinks before reacting. Came up the hard way. Rose through the ranks. Became a Senior; but when they asked him to keep wickets, chipped in with a sincere effort, while the then captain enjoyed this buy -one -batsman-get one- wicketkeeper- free , facilty. There is a no- nonsense air about him. Its all about the team, and individual idiosyncracies have no place in his scheme of things. His system of leadership doesnt appear to be conducive to chamchagiri. You are given a chance to play, and a sincere intelligent effort is appreciated. You mess around , and someone else gets a chance. Its all about whats good for the team.

Dravid captains in a manner where one tends to always look up to him. Not for the glamour, nor the sound bites. But good solid knocks. Almost ALWAYS, when ever the team is in trouble, he appears at the crease, patiently piling on the runs while trying to keep the wickets intact, inspiring the player at the opposite end. Showing them how its done. He NEVER throws his wicket away, and you never hear about how pressures of captaincy are affecting the angle of swing or straightness of his bat. You never see him muttering, mouthing curses at the opposition, glaring people down. Yes, he is human, and occasional falshes of anger on and off the field are to be expected. Steve Waugh is thrilled that Dravid agrees to write a preface to his book, and after losing the Test series, Lara, selects Dravid to lavish all his praise on.

And he doesnt remove and wave his shirt; Thats just not cricket. The most one has seen him do is hold the ball up and run across the field as if in a trance , while claiming a wicket , sometime during Englands tour on India 2006. He plays mentor to those younger and newer; he doesnt create situations where there is an element of "neta giri". Even Greg Chappel appears to have nothing bad to say about him, as he makes his measured responses to queries. The coach probably cannot hide his own delight in being given a captain like this, as straight as the front face of the bat he presents to difficult balls. Cant find anything bad to say. Not about his cricket, nor about his man-management on and off the field.

He has a lfe off the field. He keeps it there. He studied when he had to study as a youngster. Did well. The studiousness has bred in him an innate curiosity about cultures and places different from his, as something to learn from. He is a keen observer of the history of any country that he visits as part of his cricket tours. He is constantly learning. While in Pakistan he made it a point to go visit Mohenjodaro and Harrappa sites. He actively campaigns for and takes part in AIDS eradication campaigns, after learning details about the problem from his wife , who is a surgeon.

He does commercial ads, and most of them non controversial. Keeps his family away from it all. You never see pictures of him hob nobbing with social butterflies, dancing away in discotheques, with groups of dubious people, flaunting style. No one has ever linked him with vague actresses, and no one ever hears of members of his family , various government types etc , commenting on the facets of cricket selection, play and treatment in India.

Young people unconsciously search for role models. Some appear fleetingly on the horizon, flashing across with the help of fawning publicists, and favoured journalists. Some are pillars of cricket but midgets when it comes to their non cricketing ways.

Somehow one feels reassured, that in a world full of Beckhams, Maradonas and such, found later on to be made of clay, so to speak, Dravid stands tall, a completely outsatnding role model for Indian children and older youth today.

Shame in the time of west indies........

This last week has been a sports buffet of sorts. Take a few slices of BeckHam and Rooney, add a few chopped Nadals, Federers and Henins, garnish with Clisters; a few slices of Roddick and Sharapova, stir and let cook. Serve with a side dish of Bravo Salad, and Dravidian Shrikhand........

Long haired chaps going ballistic over a ball in Berlin. The audience in a "vilambit alaap" with their lips mouthing an "O", waving their arms around as if to bless their own teams. Big grown up chaps in a frenzied game, sliding, kicking, pumping their fists and occasionally making a goal. The way the players behave on field, one feels its not just adrenaline, but maybe a sparkling variety of it is cruising through their veins.

And then there is another set of chaps whipping rackets at each other as a ball just grazes the white line in Paris. If you dont have the strength, as it happens, sometimes, with the women, a grunt will do. And so you have endless amazing volleys, stretching the limbs as well as your imagination. Since the days of John Mcenroe, on field tantrums , though not absent today, have taken on a slightly civilized veneer, and are judged harshly. The seat Umpire is his/her own third umpire. Well, Federer just lost out on receiving another Cow. Last time he won a grand slam title, the Swiss canton from which he hails, presented him with a superior quality Swiss Cow. Merci Beaucoup. Wonder what Nadal will get now.

And then we have our chaps in the West Indies. Doing very well one might say. And then you have Brian Lara; if I were him . I'd be ashamed of myself; if I were BCCI, I would be even more ashamed of myself.

Dhoni is at the crease. He hits. Some guy messes up, or appears to mess up/not mess up a catch at the boundary line. So the 3rd umpire is called in. He watches the television replay, and he watches.... and he watches ... and he watches. Cannot make up his mind. So what happens ?

Brian Lara. Goes up to Dhoni and tries his Dadagiri. (Even our ex-team Dada, who is NOT one of my favourite people, never did Dadagiri of this type.) Larabhai, (and it hurts to call you bhai), ITS JUST NOT CRICKET.

Dhoni refuses to budge till an official result is declaredby the umpires. 13 people on the field, and 3 guys cannot make up their mind about what happened. Failure of technology, followed by failure of common sense.. Fifteen minutes of something that should have never happened. Fifteen mintes that evoked very strong reactions, except from people directly associated with the game, in a broader sense. The captain CANNOT suddenly be the judge; worse still, declare so himself. The smartest thing to do under the circumstances would be for the 3 umpires to declare that ball null and void and pretend it never happened and play it again, thus allowing both teams to vent their angers and insecurities in the way they should be vented: on the field, in the spirit of the game.

Dravid takes the decent way out. He declares, thinking he was going to do so anyway. A diplomats way out, in a world full of Dada's.

And what happens? Sehwag is fined for appealing too loudly.(Apparently 15 degree bent arms are ONLY seen on the subcontinent. Simlarly, ICC should now define the pitch and decibel level and continent, of objectionable appeals) The ICC treats Brian Lara like you treat a small child who accidently spilled hot milk (and doesnt matter who got scalded). . And the BCCI, the high Oracle of all things cricket in India, who should have protested the intimidation of Dhoni at the crease, is as quiet as a cat; a cat that is licking its lips in anticipation of more matches , and more earnings; and to the hell with the players. Its like DROP ONE, GET ONE FREE.

Brian Lara, who is often held in the same esteem in the world as Sachin Tendulkar has just fallen several notches, andthat too, badly. Think of all the times Sachin was given what is called "Khota out" (False out). Amazingly fake LBW's that had the knowledgeable man on the Indian roads seething. He walked. Did not talk. Either to his partner at the crease, or the umpires , or the bowler or whoever. Then he came back in the next innings , and played to show how cricket is actually played.

When we were children, whenever we did something wrong, the elders used to say that God will punish us. We believed it then. I still think it holds true. Look at Brian Lara's score in the West Indies innings.

Makes you think. Hope it makes Brian Lara think; (when he gets the time from thinking of Trinidad and Tobago in the World Cup , while getting messages about it from players in the pavillion); no wonder he is behaving like the football types).....
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Special Days

Many many moons ago, when i was young, the only days we were aware off were of two types; school days and holidays. Till say about 20 years ago, when my son was in kindergaarten, the only days they celebrated were Childrens day (Nov 14th-Chacha Nehru's birthday), and Teachers Day (September 5, Dr S. Radhakrishnan's birthday). Nehru's empathy with children was wellknown, and it rose above the executuve and judiciary and legislative aspects of his life. There was no StarPlus with its sans's and bahus, no ESPN with guys continuously running between wickets in some country trying to beat some other country, no nothing. Only Doordarshan. So the younger ones saw cartoons, documentaries on Nehru , punctuated with " Amchi Mati Amchi Mansa" the program with the highest farmer TRP's. The kids would draw a card at home, attentively colour it till the pencil pierced through the paper; never mind.... ; it was given and accepted with much grace and appreciation . If you had a garden, you plucked a flower, and clutching it as if it was gold, took it to school, to present it to your class teacher. Paanch rupaiyya, ek phool was blasphemy.

Once folks got a whiff of theimpending globalization, we were suddenly subject to an onslaught of Mothers, Fathers and Valentines Day. Not to speak of Friendship Day. Shopkeepers , whose limit of ambition had reached upto selling Maggie Noodles, suddenly started stocking, satin ribbons to be sold by the metre, for Friendship day. Nine shining inches of a silky ribbon , when tied on the hands of someone , you probably met only when you wanted some classnotes, signified eternal friendship ! Just in case your interest waned, or you appeared to be responding to your parents suggestion of not wasting money on such things, the TV channels ensured that you did the stuff , lest you be branded a kaku type...(unfortunate name, that).

I thought time had come to define certain indegenious days , more in keeping with our desi ethos.

Like:

1) BNBC (Be Nice to the Bus Conductor) Day. My eternal tribute to the BEST bus service of Mumbai. the buses may creak, rock, rattle, the driver may do the same, but the bus takes you from A to B, while the conductor exhibits an uncanny ability to slither through a packed bus from back to front, without outraging anyone (or anyones modesty). (Suggested activities : carry exact change, share a chocolate/chikki with the conductor, get up when he tells you to vacate a ladies' seat (without an argument or frown). Say Thank you to the driver and conductor when you get off. Ram-Ram is even better. See how he goes into first gear with new vigour on the Jogeshwari Vikhroli Link Rd.

2) HRD (Hamara Rasta Day). Please note that HRD has no connection AT ALL with a ministry of the same name. On this one day, folks should desist from saying "Kya ye aap ke baap ka rasta hai ?". (Suggested activities : take a detour around the bhajiwalla, instead of leaping close to the tomatoes; shake your head instead of mouthing something bad; exchange high-fives with the vadawallah after you politely move aside to let a truck pass a foot away from the stall.)

3) Hornless Day (HD) : There are a variety of ways ine can observe this. Keep your vehicle at home and walk. Be creative in communication through your vehicle window, if you are forced to use the vehicle at all. Glaring at a taxi driver and saying "dikhta nahi kya ?" does NOT earn you any points.... Drive at a sedate pace, so others are forced to drive the same way. Enjoy the scenery, the trafficjams, the dug up roads, the wandering bovine population looking for a relic of the past - a blade of green grass....

4) L+ Security day (Short Form unusable :-)): This will be ONE day on which the X, Y, and Z security types are left to themselves. The several jeeps, constables, inspectors, lights on vehicles and sirens can be put to much better use. And L+ will be a day dedicated to the Ladies Security . Remember Chivalry ? Well, Let the ladies get into the bus ahead of you. If you see someone pretending to be thinner than he is, and trying to squeeze through to the front of the bus through a congregation of ladies, make him remember his "nani", a super L+ lady. If you are travelling at night in the suburban train, travel after 7:30pm in the ladies dabba, not because its allowed, but beacuse the few ladies who travel late may feel they have someone to help them. If you see guys whizzing past on cycles and motorcycles dangerously close to ladies with glistening long mangalsutras, take a diving leap to stop the thieves, in a manner that Moammed Kaif would approve ....

5) BhajiwaliBai Day (BBD) : Avoid the Bhajiwalla Bhaiyyas (BB) on this day. Buy your vegetables only from the bahji ladies on this day. Notice how you get more of bhaji, suddenly. Say Mavshibai, and ask her where her hometown is. Comment on how smart her son is (who is arranging the lemons artistically), and pretend NOT to notice as she adds ONE more sheaf of Kothmeer in your bag.....

6)Immobile Day (ID) : Leave your mobile at home, along with the hands free kit. All those who think you are mad when they see you talking and laughing with yourself on the road, will be reassured. Music in the cacophony of buses is sometimes OK; but have you heard a Sonata in 392 Major, where "Saare jahan se achcha", 'just Chill Chill' and "kajra Re" continuosly play while you are trying to shout the name of the bus stop to the conductor ? And sometimes everyone speaks so loudly on the phone, that you wonder why the require a phone at all; just holler. All Talk time is permanently free.

7)Class 7 day (C7D): The immediate consequence of everyone getting hyper about classes 10 and 12 is that once the children go to class 8, parents get into PUSH Mode. Free time from 5 am to 8 am ? No Problem. Join a class. Last years highest was 99.9. Its always "WE mange More" (and I am not talking about the selection committee for cricket). Study, Study, beat your buddy, you must get 99.9999. On the occassion of C7D, take the children on an excursion somewhere. Honor the sportskids in your school. Applaud the artists and admire their art work and performances. Have some non-engineers, non-doctors, and some such , come and chat with the kids on what they do. Get your kids to visit an institute for differently-enabled special kids. Play cricket with them . Life consists of SO many things other than Engineers, doctors, computerscientists, and managers....

And Finally,

8) Local Train Day (LTD): They are the Lifeline. While we cling in doorways, squeeze into compartments, specailise in saying "zara sarkoon ghya " (just push that side a bit...), so one more can lay claim to 36 square inches of plywood , day after day, month after month, the motorman simply follows the Bhagwad Gita ; he continues to do his work, without expectation of any reward. Instead, whenever there is a train strike, and some senseless people take their anger out on trains, these guys get beaten up. NO one, and i repeat , no one, ever, waves , smiles, and says thank you to them, when they stand taking a breather at the terminus , in the doorway of their train cabin, waiting for the next signal to fall. So, on an LTD, meet your motorman, wish him well, introduce your children to him, and tell him you admire his difficult job. If he has an off period, have an impromptu chai with him along with the people in the railway dabba.

Any more Days you can think of ?

Monsoon and the Met office....

Since the monsoon of 2005, folks in Mumbai have a thing about the rains .

After a lifetime of braving rains, and attending schools/offices/appointments- come what may; for the first time, the newspapers reported that people stayed home, or left offices early, after the first hint of the monsoon on May 29. Some folks still have a post traumatic stress disorder due to last years experience of getting stuck in rains, that flooded everything till your eyeballs. Houses that got flooded like 7 feet, for the first time in 60 years.

On May 29, with tons of maps decorated with isobars , heavy thundershowers were predicted for the following 48 hours. This kind of prediction is now PREDICTABLE from the Met Office.

To set the record straight on what actually took place, , the "next 48 hours" were a set on nice cloudy days, with rain drizzling mostly at night, making the days more bearable.

The way the met office functions, reminds me of my General Science examinations in school, where we used to have a section called "Give reasons". You had to give scientific reasons for certain facts , as asked.

Everytime some unusual weather occurs , it is almost always NOT what the met office predicted. So what happens? Its GIVE-REASONS-time.

Its as if they exist to amswer questions after everything has happened. They start saying that the "western/eastern/etc " disturbance, which was expected to reach Mumbai on such and such a date , didnt; or, the DELUGE of 26th july 2005, happened because there was a CLOUD CEILING of 15 meteres above the city, which simply emptied itself or whatever.

They take great pride in reporting that such and such a place had so many inches/cms/mms of rain. If only they predicted it instead of reporting.

Excuse me.

I pay my taxes so some smart met office type is able to guage the size of the cloud cover, nature of the cloud cover , and give a probability of what will happen , when. Notwithstanding the fact, that the "western/eastern disturbance" , like me, can have a mind of its own, one expects the met office staff to be trained to use suitable technologies to predict the road the disturbance will take.

They are supposed to predict and warn people of these things BEFORE it happens. I dont pay my taxes, so the government can organsie offices, which display scientific instruments to pretend they are using them. I pay my taxes so the government can TRAIN staff to predict the weather based on observations from these instruments. If these are obselete, I pay taxes so the government can invest in better instruments.

The only thing that seems to happen with amazing regularity is the "raising of danger flags , " in various ports, to tell the fishermen , not to go to sea that day.

Do we need the met office at all ? What funds are wasted on this every year ? Every year , sometime in May, there is a news item about monsoon prediction; how someone is looking at more variables in their computer program this year, how El Nino, or El Nina , is doing stuff it should or shouldnt be doing this year. (So whats new. A lot of folks are doing something they shouldnt be doing, anyway.) Reams of newspaper wasted on this.

And any farmer or fisherman who has spent a lifetime observing nature and its implicit signs, can tell you when a rain or storm is imminent. Maybe not in inches, centimeters , etc, but relevant enough to those to whom it matters , like farners and fishermen. He doesnt even know how many extra parmeters he is using this year for his prediction; there has not been an upgrade in his biological machine for years; if it has, then he hs earned it from years of experience, and NOT from George W Bush allowing the import of the CRAY machine, or CDACT presenting the PARAM.

And all this time, helpless mango growers in Kokan can only watch as an unseasonal rain destroys the mango blossoms that year. Onion farmers in Nasik are reduced to tears that have nothing to do with onions, but everything to do with the now rotting onion crop due to rains that messed up acres and acres of crop. And lets not talk about tomatoes.

We are so good at holding seminars. Solid waste managenment seminars in a city, for which, everyone enjoys a free attache case, information material (the backs of which are used by your children to do their practice sums) , daily lunches (with a choice of dessert) , one banquet at a 5 star, cultural program on one evening, folks going about importantly in suits with id-tags around their necks, gracefully hiding their names in their shirt pockets (along with their mobile phones..).

Reminds me. Recently one heard of a solid waste management seminar organised in Goa . Wow. What is NOT so wow, is the fact that my friend who stays in Betim, across the river from Panjim , the capital city, has to dump her waste into the river as Betim has NO waste management ........ .

No comment at all.

All the while, the real waste is not managed at all.

Its not the Mithi river. Dredging it to widen it is like increasing the insulin for an uncontrollable diabetic. You actually need to make lifestyle changes at root. And so what the government needs to do is to find the local goons who encourage settlement along the Mithi for a price. Or find those in the hallowed precincts of the Municipal Coropration, that develope instant cataracts while dealing with payments to cheating contractors , who specialise in pouring mud where concrete is required.

Buildings in Mumbai are suddenly being declared dangerous these days. Its supposed to be a crumbling construction, dangerous to the lives of the inhabitants of that building, something that was built, when the powers that be were sticklers for rules. But subsequent senseless, unscientific additions/changes/deletions to the constructions have weakened the edifice, leading to a fear of an impending catastrophe. All of it done , because someone in authority specialsed in looking-the-other-way .

When will we learn, that todays corrupt authorities are what the buildings are a symbol of. The rot has penetrated right in. It didnt start that way.

And its just a matter of time before it falls.

Goan interlude

Just got back from a short trip to Goa.

This was not my first trip. probably not my last one either. But this was a trip made after 31 years, my last visit here being at the end of 1975.

Notwithstanding warnings from folks decrying this choice of time of travel, Goa being very hot, this being peak of the Off-season etc etc, flights to Goa were completely packed. With mostly Indians. Lots of children .

Despite Goa being touted as a destination of choice that draws German charter flights like a Goan to his feni, the airport in Goa remains an unassuming type. No aerobridges, tunnels etc. You get off the plane and sort of trudge into an enclosure which quickly leads you outside the airport, without endless corridors with endless signs . No one looks at you with suspicion as you pull your lugguage (the current style elsewhere being, treat travellers in an Guilty-until-proven-innocent manner, all in the name of security.).

You have a choice of prepaid taxis to take you to your destination, ours being Panjim. Immediately outside the airport, you see the moderate intercity traffic, and spying buses trundling in the distance and true to our middle class values, we do a fast trudge with our bags to the main road and back. The buses are decently crowded with folks who are NOT on holiday, and going about their work with baskets and stuff, and since we do a lot of push-push-shove-shove-squeeeeze-through-to-the-exit-stuff in mumbai, we decide to treat ourselves to a taxi in Goa, and pretend we are on a five star vacation. Turns out this was to be one of the two taxi rides we took in our entire 5 day stay....

Goa to me, earlier was a bunch of cities interspersed in a wealth of small villages dotted with greenery. The earlier lack of multistoreyed dwellings was admirable. The biggest difference this time was there are no well defined village boundaries any more. There seems to be some sort of boom in ex-village construction. Some of the older mangalore-tiled houses with intricate trelisses and bowers of greenery leaning over imposing entrances have given way to cement-concrete monstrocities. Some unavoidable things like industrial areas have come up, but they still try and blend in with the surroundings, moderating their external display, so-to-speak. Earlier, 25 years ago, as you entered the main village area, you saw a nice football field , a church and temple, where you read announcements of impending matches with a visiting village team from elsewhere; folks landed up to cheer their team, to be followed by a goodwill feni session post match, possibly with a great meal.

Today, what really strikes you is the number of houses in the village with doors locked from outside. My friend from Goa, who we met after 25 years , tells us that this doesnt necessarily mean that people have migrated ; it also could mean, that someone is out for shopping etc, and IT IS NO LONGER SAFE TO LEAVE YOUR HOUSE UNLOCKED IF YOU ARE STEPPING OUT FOR A WHILE. The possibility of people from the countryside going to work in Panjim also cannot be denied, given the developement of educational institutions over the years , and the transport infrastructure. (We in Mumbai , who travel 80 kms daily , packed liked sardines , simply to go to work, cannot really say a thing. Travelling to work in Goa is a very civilsed affair. Buses are generally going from point A to Z, and anyone along the way , at any point, stops the bus anywhere and gets on it. You politely wave, the driver politely stops, the conductor shouts out the area names while leaning from the steps, just to introduce some excitement, and "transport" happens....).

Roads in Goa are wonderful. Mostly 2 lane highways, sorry, roads. I dont recall seeing single speed limit sign during my entire stay. Everyone drives as fast as they want. Our taxi driver did a 1 hour drive in 35 minutes flat. The approved thing is to overtake huge vehicles at great speed. The only time you cannot do that is when a motorcycle with a pillion rider is simultaneously trying to overtake you at the same time, irrespective of the width of the road. I didnt experience a single pot hole . Goa has a climate similar to Mumbai. Yes, i know the density of traffic in Mumbai is huge. But here in Mumbai potholes are a way of life. Goa is dotted with new roundabouts where traffic gracefully swirls around before getting into a frenzied acceleration, and i admire this effort by the government to temper as well as beautify in one shot.

Given the 25 years that elapsed after my previous visit, one thing that reassures me is the effort being put , in maintaining the greenery in Goa. Goa is still lush with mangroves, trees, and i suppose individual riches are still counted in terms of how much land you have and how many mango, cashew and coconut trees crown it. You notice "houses nestled amongst trees" as opposed to trees decorating the house. Which is how it was, and how it should be.

Goa tourism tries to do a commendable job running various tours. The communication interface when you call from out of state is good. Relevant information, quick information, someone has some great ideas about how websites can be usefully planned.

The problem starts in "real-time."

Assorted bookings are made, coupons given for trips on buses, but the communication infrastructure, networkwise, is simply , not there. The centralised booking people convey arbitrary bookings to the people at the tour start site. One feels they get so carried away with the IT aspect of the whole thing, that they simply forget to pass on the information to people at the bus-level. And so, for every tour we took, there was a lot of frustrated yelling, discussion, cursing the GTDC people. Walking back and forth to counters. On finally resolving the issue, we would still keep our time everywhere as defined in the brochure; which leads me to believe that these mess-ups are all planned/built-in and taken care off by the GTDC system. Absolutely shameless and amazing.

Waves of anger and frustration, enveloped by the breezes of the peaceful Goa countryside, soon gave way to a bus , speeding along, playing the latest music, interspersed with pithy comments from the tour guide. One cannot help but smile , when , on explaining the importance of Aguada fort, where there is a jail, the tour guide PROUDLY mentions that 2 very prominent criminals managed to escape from there. There is even a bust of one of the criminals , in the fancy restaurant where he was finally arrested. :-) :-)

Folks in Goa have an inborn environmental awareness. There are several watchdog organisations today that ensure that planted trees exceed cut trees during any construction activity. One is delighted to see inland waterways, and mangroves ; driving inland in the hills, pineapples bought from local chaps certainly taste different to those I have eaten so far; much more sweet. Old women hawkers on the streets and markets of Panjim, sell raw cashews and Goa's local mangoes. A glance across the hills emphasises the insistence of non-highrises. The coastal regulations rules prohibit construction within 500 meters of the coastline. But sadly, as elsewhere in India, (but to a much lesser extent) these rules are flouted by appealing to higher (?) authorities at the Centre. Witness the Tata housing in the Betim Hills. JRD would NEVER have approved.

The old quarter of Panjim, now being treatd as a Heritage area, has these amazing "gulleys", (small pathways), with even more amazing houses with intricate carvings and treliises, and a very unique way of announcing the owners name, in a blue delft like plate fitted into the wall outisde. Dark blue, brickred etc appear to be the favourite colours of buildings, and white comes a close second . These areas are dotted with homestyle reaturants , serving typical Goan food, and many are written up and recomended in things like the lonely Planet Guide.

Lonely or not, recommended or not, we were treated to a lunch in one of these, by our Goan friend towards the end of our trip. Fish Curry and rice being the staple, this place excels in serving various varieties of fish. The non vegetarians amongst us, ate with single minded devotion to the plate in front, oblivious to the coming and going of electricity, conversation, etc. Plates were wiped clean with "pao" till they gleamed, and fingers licked till there was nothing more to be licked. Amazing food, at even more amazing prices; bringing out th Goans' natural predeliction for the "good times" to be enjoyed by one and all.

Which finally brings us to Sussegaad. I am convinced that after such great meals of Fish Curry and rice, a person gets so satiated, that a short nap (after a drink of chiiled beer...) is on order. Maybe its the quality of rice, the lush quality of the coconut used, or the omega 3 magic of the fish fat, but most businesses in Goa come to a halt between 1pm and say 4pm. This is Sussegaad time. Relax. Take a nap. Release your tensions.

And then there is the Ferry. Despite the Panjim Mandovi river bridge spanning across Panjim and Betim , most people still like to travel across the river by Ferry. On my last trip to Goa, I remember paying for it. Since 2002 this is now free, except for vehicles with wheels for which there is a minor fee. . And so you see tons of two wheelers emerging , as if from the river, when the Ferry docks at Panjim or Betim. The heady combination of sea smells, fish and diesel fumes probably creates the right incentive for rushing to have a cold chilled beer /feni wherever you plan to go next.

On our last day in Panjim we were looking for a place that sells a typical Goan sweet called "Dose"; I may have the spelling wrong, but folks, its the taste that matters. Our Goan friend served this to us over tea at her riverfront living room in Betim. This resulted in us depleting her entire supply of this sweet . A deadly combination of gram flour (chana flour), coconut, and local jaggery (probably toddy based) this melt-in-your-mouth stuff has not been given the publicity it deserves. Goa Tourism, WAKE UP!!!

It was 1 pm when our taxi taking us to the airport came. On hearing about our quest, the driver, trying to beat the Sussegaad timings, drove in a frenzy in the opposite direction to the airport, to take us to a shop where he knew this was sold. He then came after us to see whether we were able to get it, and then even moved the car and parked it where we didnt have to walk back a big distance to get back in again.

Izzat ka swaal tha. (To those unfamiliar with this, it means "it was question of goan prestige...").

And so we were back on the way to the airport. Whizzing past, trying to beat out previous timing between Panjim and the airport. Maybe the driver was yet to have his lunch. Maybe he wanted to get back to a Sussegaad afternoon over fish curry, rice and feni.

Like i said, there are NO speed limits. Maybe i will recommend him to Michael Schumaker. And maybe Schumaker will take him, provided, of course , he comes along with the fish curry and rice.

And a picture of Schumaker winning his races and getting doused by a bottle of feni in Monaco, is too much to imagine.

Time for Sussegaad.

Cricket Cribs

Ever since the discussion over 'too much cricket" has started , I keep getting a feeling of "finally someone has brought out into the open what I, having been saying for ages"......

Yes.

The BCCI is behaving like a industry, or to put it in plain words, a factory. Raw material in plenty, guaranteed market, constant innovations in final product. So the BCCI simply flogs the machine into producing more, and More , and MOre, and MORe, and MORE !!! If one of the raw material ingredients malfunctions or falls apart, suppliers will fall over each other to give more, so production is guaranteed. Its like we have an infinite supply of cricketers, ready to play , in case one of the team falls by the wayside.....

Our Cricketers are being made to play too much cricket. Time was when there was one big series or maybe two a year. You looked forward to planning your time so you could enjoy the match, be it on the radio, TV or at the Stadium. Guys played their cricket and went home to their families, and came back refreshed for the next series.

Today, BCCI flaunts its riches, as a result of making vast amounts from having back to back matches and back to back series, which swell up their coffers, thanks to the cricket-mad public. There is total disregard for some kind of rest and recreation period for players. The hanging sword over everyones head is the possibility of being DROPPED from the team.

So you have guys declaring themselves fit, turning up at the venue, and suddenly sporting a muscle strain on the match day; you have at least one guy, either injured, muscle sprained, or having viral fever. Sometimes when there are bigger injuries like, say, Sachin's,--- folks fly off to England, Australia and South Africa, to have operations performed, which I have always suspected, can be actually performed here. (When you are out of sight, there is no information overload , and lesser questions are asked by the public. You make "statements" and then everyone shuts up. )

Television is actually the culprit. Selling television rights is a BIG thing. Reported on the first page of newspapers. Doesnt matter if Anjali Bhagwat gets a gold in an international shooting competetion, you can relegate her to page 6.

And can television sponsors of players be far away ? Of course not. There you have our leading players, promoting cola drinks, fans, motorcycles, banks, credit cards. Dhoni the latest sensation, is supposed to be a big milk drinker. One never sees him doing a public commercial to encourage children to drink milk.

In all this bombardment of our senses with TV and cricket, its our children who suffer the most. Every March-April, they schedule tests and one day internationals . Sometimes the same team plays with the same opposition on two consecutive days, at the same venue, as happened in the recent India Pak DLF cup. And children who should get a less exciting environment just prior to their final exams, end up having to make tough honest choices , or cheating themselves.

We are going the way of the western countries, where sport marketing is a business, and has been so for a long time. Their children, and general public have been exposed to this so long, you are now seeing their educational standards in schools dropping and causing governmental concern

Why is it that Indian youths in their 20's and 30's are doing well today in various countries? I suspect its because, in their school years, they knew what their priorities were, had lesser distractions like overdoses of cricket and TV. .

We need to cut down this cricket schedule to reasonable proportions. Every natural disaster does not need India to play a cricket match to help it. Very recently, the BCCI made a very noble decision. "to channel some of its earnings to aid other sports developement in Inda".

(I knew there was catch somewhere :-))

The solution ? Well, the players will be asked to play a benefit match, proceeds to go for that sport. Jor lagake, Haaiyya.

Sunil Gavaskar says players shouldnt crib about a tight playing schedule. I would love to know the sort of schedule they had when he played. I also realise that he is currently in the business of commentating on the cricket matches all over the world. Which is a bit less strenuous than actually playing the matches, dont you think?

Time and time again one sees that the steeper the climb, the harder the fall.
Will the BCCI ever learn?

Car Talk !

When we were young, like in middle school, my father was posted in the Central state Secretariat in Mumbai. (It was called Bombay then). Since we were in school in Pune, and school mobility has never been a strong point in our educational system, we only came to Bombay to spend our vacations, and stayed at a place at Nariman Point.

One of the things my brother and I liked to do, was to sit on one of the Marine Drive benches, and admire the cars going by.

Ye olde Ambassadors and Fiats were simply passe.

What we watched and what my brother became an expert identifer about, were the American , German , Japanese and British cars, that often cruised down these roads. I still remeber my brother "reciting" the name of a Peugot, (really messing it up in the pronounciation), showing me a Buick passing by. Once in a while a Cadillac. A Mercedes Benz was a rarity, but we saw some, given that most Consular Staff lived in this area. There was so much glamour attached to a Mercedes, that some of it rubbed of on some buses, which were supposed to be Tata Mercedes Benz. Vauzhalls, and Prefects puttered about, and there were even some cars which had side boards on which you could stand while the car was running. Fiats by then were an Indian Production, and so were Ambassadors, and were not considered worth commenting on.

Soon, it came to pass, that these cars disappeared from the scenery, and were "brought out and aired' only during Vintage car rallies. The Fiats and Anbassadors were the cars of choice, and one had to wait 8 years to be allocated a Fiat car. Bombay was , and still is, full of Fiat taxis.

The Ambassadors were a very very roomy and bulky vehicle , and it was not unknown then for a grooms entire eimmediate family of 10 , to travel to the wedding, in a single ambassador car, perched on various laps. For the Government Ministers, it was , amd still is , a vehicle of choice. Old Reliable..

Today, almost 40 years later, Bombay is now called Mumbai, and the roads are awash with American, Korean , German, and other cars, "gliding" around or at least trying to, given the craterish state of our roads. .. The Maruti cars in their various models have almost replaced the Fiats, and Ambassadors are almost antique. In my childhood, having a car radio was such a rarity, you turned it on and listened. The car itself made a decent noise when it was driven, changing gears etc, that you mostly heard the radio when stationary. Todays car , are much quieter.

Today the cars come with a choice of radio, CD player et al. most are airconditioned, .But people are so busy talking on their cell phones, that they hardly hear the radio and listen to whats going on.

Car thieves are having a great time, there is so much to choose from. If its not the car, you can always steal the audio electronics. And the drive is so smooth, you cannot tell when someone drives off with it.

We stiil have a Fiat, which my husband bought when he got his first job. He still has the same job and the same car. Our car is 32 years old. No radio, no CD player. Not even a clock. No cup holder. And if you stare long enough at the accelerator and clutch, you can actually see the road beneath, in all its concrete glory. No A/c, no cooling, but lots of heating :-)

The car is often left unlocked. Even the thieves dont take a second look.

A few years ago, we were woken up one morning, when someone in our building complex. saw a car parked next to ours, in our building, with its windshield smashed. On further investigation, it was clear that the thieves had taken off with the audio electronics. The car was locked with one of those remote locks, that sound like a video game when they are operated. Never mind. They just crashed the glass and got in.

And our old Fiat sat alongside, unlocked, open to the world, and the thief probably never even took a cursory look at it. .

Hmmm.