Big Mouths do help

It was some fifty years ago.  Our neighbour, a normally benign individual had virtually turned malignant in sleep as if some vampire had mysteriously infected him and was furiously gesticulating and shouting at his aged mother, of all people! The provocation for his angst had come from the chattering old lady having divulged some closely held family secret to a rather meddlesome relative, thereby inadvertently causing hindrance in a land deal.  The one stand-out declamatory phrase repeatedly employed by the neighbour was `you-and-your-big-mouth'.  Readers would have surely heard this often at school (teachers reprimanding talkative students) or closer at home (elders admonishing precocious children talking beyond their age). The strong, negative connotations attached to the `Big Mouth' (BM) could not have been missed.  So, without belabouring the point further, we can conclude by consensus that there is a severe antipathy and stigma attached to BM.  Come to think of it, there is no recorded eulogy or appreciation of BM in literary works in a couple of languages this scribe has marginal capabilities in.  This serious attempt is to address that deficit, rectify a historical omission, redeem a bit of ground for BM and save it from complete condemnation.

Switch to two weeks ago.  I was sweating profusely inside the air-conditioned car and was highly conscious of generating incoherent and asinine prattle, in an utterly nervous state.  My wife was making valiant attempts to calm me down, but in vain.  Over the years, she had learned that on such trips I just flip out to be reduced to gooey jelly and there is no known remedy for that.  When we reach this specific destination, I usually behave like an exceptionally rebellious mule which resents being goaded into heading in a particularly undesirable direction. I put up the same pathetic show this time too.  My wife adroitly used her teacher-like stern demeanour (this she manages with a smiling face - don't ask me how - and she has a band of admirers who wonder how she is cool and is ever-smiling!) as well as the 'dont-embarrass-me-type' hissed-out instructions to cajole me into the ante-room of our .....er.....dentist!  I felt completely trapped and hopelessly hemmed in since I was flanked by the only two people in the world who I am mortally afraid of - the dentist inside the clinic and the wife, languidly guarding the only exit.

The intelligent and perceptive among the readers must have already deciphered my intense dislike for dentist's clinics.  I must record for now and posterity - or else I would be guilty of doing grave injustice -  that my dentist is an endearing lady, a gentle soul, a confirmed wheedler who can coax a hungry robin to yield that half-eaten worm and a skilled operator when it comes to teeth!  As a process, she eases you into the recliner, she chats nicely and lulls you into believing that you are the chosen one, about to be fed some devilishly tasty ice-cream.  Once you are down, the scene changes swiftly and alarmingly; three more otherwise absolutely normal ladies emerge from the wood-works to assume forbidding postures around you.  One thrusts a glass of water in your face to rinse your mouth; one holds a suction pump to remove excess saliva and water and one carries a contraption used to widen unwilling mouths to the fullest.  This is the moment the dentist chooses to hide her face behind a menacing mask, switches on the overhead light, which makes your eyes water (thankfully that merges with the flow of fear-induced-tears!) and picks up the cursed drill which makes that confoundedly screeching noise as it grates on your teeth. Now, the metamorphosis in her is complete.  As for me, at this stage my muscles automatically stiffen, my breathing gets heavy and I feel like a bleating lamb at the last stop inside an abattoir!

Then the dentist calls the assemblage to order, commences the proceedings and seeks further widening of the mouth.  When she realises I cannot expand that orifice any further despite best efforts due to limitations imposed at the time of creation, she says in a rather defeated and resigned way `Oh, your mouth is so small.  I wish it were bigger'!!  Here is someone asking for a BM, after all, even though it is to facilitate her in plying her trade.  You see, a dentist has to combine the skills of an expert digger, deft chiseller, careful filler and good finisher.  She has to perform all the complicated and intricate tasks in the rather confined space, which usually accommodates a couple of morsels of food at a time.  As such, in order to get the satisfaction of a job well done, the least a good dentist expects is a reasonably big mouth.  When you confront her with a smaller-than-the-desired-size mouth, she has a right to feel cheated because she has been given less than the minimum required base material for her to earn a livelihood and that is disappointing, to say the least.  Hence a dentist's yearning for a BM!  But my dentist, the smart woman she is, saw an opportunity even in the adversity of having to work on me and once brought in her apprentices/interns to show how it is done when the desirable size is not available.

Typically, even for something as simple as a cavity-filling, while the dentist herself drills inside the mouth (I invariably imagine myself to be a piece of marble being cut), there is an accompanying requirement of some spray to cool the temperature (the analogy with marble being cut gets stronger).  Or even as the drill goes shrieking inside, there is a need for the suction pump to take out the extra supply of saliva (is this a by-product of the high anxiety level?) or water from one side. So, at any time, there are at least two contraptions simultaneously inside the mouth.  If the mouth is too small for the comfort of the team of crafts-women, something like a solid plastic block is inserted to keep it open to a desired level - the dentist assures me this is to lessen the strain in keeping the mouth open for long as required - even if the owner of the mouth is an absolutely reluctant participant in the orgy. At some stage, the ultimate knowledge dawns on him that he no longer can exercise his choice in this matter!  So, now let us see - the mouth, small as it is, has at least two contraptions, a few fingers (once, having far gone into la-la land, I vaguely counted a couple more than usual and not being able to figure out who they belonged to, guessed that some avid, revenue-generating spectators had joined the event) to hold things in place and a plastic block.  On top of all this, the dentist and her assistants have to get a clean line of sight to the repair site through the maze to avoid tragic collisions as well as blood-bath inside the mouth.  Do you blame the dentist for asking for BM?

Last week when I returned to the dentist for a review, I told her how I wished I had a BM! It would have made the visit to the dentist just a jittery experience like it is for an ordinary mortal instead of a traumatizing one.  I went on to narrate my experience thirty years ago with a Bombay based dentist who pulled out my wisdom tooth huffing and puffing, after a marathon session that left me bleeding profusely for some time.  And I had to carry an exceptionally well-fed look for two weeks, with the cheeks pretending to be mumps-afflicted.  That dentist had the gall to charge me extra for the horrendous experience, citing my small mouth as the cause of `his' trauma!  I sarcastically told my current dentist how some people blame everything on others.  She asked me what the name of that dentist was and when I told her, she looked very cross and abruptly ended the review.  Outside, the receptionist told me that Bombay dentist was her uncle and her role model!!

'You-and-your-small BM', I could hear my wife muttering under her breath!

Why, but Why!

Intellectual curiosity is the hallmark of an active mind, seeking to nudge the horizons of knowledge a bit further, conventional wisdom avers.  This scribe agrees without any demur.  But there are two very distinct classes of seekers one comes across - one which just raises a feeble and mundane `what' in an attempt to scratch the surface and ceases further search at that threshold; the other which invariably carries a heavy duty power drill and never tires of asking a series of `whys' after the initial `what'.  This scribe has always zealously advocated offering a couple of stars extra for the 'seekers' in the latter category for reasons which are not difficult to fathom.  This class, in its endless urge to mop up all knowledge available in the vicinity, wants to lick the last drop by getting to the bottom of the barrel, if that is what it takes.

Let us look at a couple of examples.  When Wordsworth was so profoundly affected by the melancholic strains of the solitary reaper, he could have stopped with the plaintive query `Will no one tell me what she sings'?  He did not, he went a little further and sought further research as to why such a soulful rendering, because he was a knowledge seeker in the classic mould.  Or for that matter, take the case of this good friend who travelled ten miles to incoherently ask (since he was panting from the physical effort) why is Brad Pitt seriously offending Angelina Jolie (going by newspaper reports) by suddenly abjuring the use of bathing soap and whether global anti-pollution drive will get a fillip from Pitt's action!  Unfortunately, there is no documented evidence of Wordsworth solving the riddle posed by the solitary reaper; this friend too will be denied the ultimate knowledge he seeks because he cannot interactively demand edification from either of the protagonists!!  But the whys have to be answered reasonably well prior to meaningful closure of the fundamental issues raised by the whats, you would agree.  Whys keep the wheel of knowledge trundling forward slowly and steadily.

Now that the foundation has been laid out structurally establishing the superiority of `why' as a tool for wisdom-seekers, it is time to formally enter the catechismal arena with THE question to delve deeper into some events, statements, reports etc and seek incremental light.  All in our ceaseless quest for knowledge, of course!

@What: In the context of the 2014 elections in India, a few young turks in the political arena as well as some `forward-looking' psephologists, who have arbitrarily arrogated to themselves the flag-waving rights for being path-breakers, incessantly crowed from the TV screens that in less than a decade, Social Media (SM) will have a decisive impact on elections in India.

@Why: Even with all the much-maligned migration from rural to urban areas in India, the rural population would probably still top 70% after 10 years.  Do these 'visionary' politicians and psephologists dream that a vast majority of the rural population would have avidly taken to Facebook and Twitter in that timeframe??  One hopes they do comprehend the difference between a mobile phone and SM!  All this chatter came through ironically almost at the same time the Parliament was passing the food security bill to provide subsidised grains for the bulk of India's population, because they cannot afford food at market prices.  Now, juxtapose the 'wild vision' of the impact of social media on elections with reference to the rural population and the need for the government to provide food security! And explain WHY such outlandish predictions are being made? Pray, why?

@What: Karnataka Government announced grandiose plans to widen many roads at a huge cost to the exchequer and this will entail demolition of many buildings including dwellings on both sides of the existing roads.

@Why: Previous such efforts have yielded commendable results in creating additional road lanes for traffic, but only as a sign of transient success.  The problem is inevitably the new space is not used for what it is intended for. After a couple of months, the lanes on either extremity of the road are encroached upon by people whose full-time occupation seems to be parking everything from cycles to mammoth trucks.  By demolishing shops, apartments, houses etc and depleting financial reserves, the government ends up converting living space into expensively produced and freely given parking space, without even a semblance of a short term solution for traffic woes.  And they want to do more of this. Why?

@What: Recently the investigating agency in India slapped a case on the head of a business conglomerate for possible violation of rules in the allotment of coal mines. Immediately some major industrialists tut-tutted in unison and spouted statements vouching for the honesty of the specific individual and expressing fears that the investment climate will suffer consequent to such diabolical actions of the government.  Preemptive noise to protect the clique?

@Why: Every time a politician, bureaucrat or an industrialist is put on the dock, his overzealous tribe screams in defence and mouths sanctimonious platitudes.  At this rate, the only `unprotected' tribe against whom any cavalier legal action can be taken unchallenged is the one to which the poor common man belongs.  While the investigating agency itself is notoriously political in its affiliation, unscrupulously manoeuvred by those in power and therefore easily suspect in its motive, wouldn't it make sense to let the process go through its motions and for the specific individuals to prove their innocence?  Should not be too difficult, if they are indeed innocent!  Why this unseemly hurry to `exempt' people from the process?  Because all these powerful people have proved that they are like Caeser's wife - incorruptible and above suspicion??  Are they really?  Otherwise, why?

@What: State governments, in their infinite wisdom, are introducing - hold your breath- mobile mammogram units.  The noble intention is to help women, who would otherwise be averse to visit medical facilities to undergo the test.

@Why: No offence meant to anyone and one is all for everyone getting all the required medical help, so please dont bristle at this - has the government considered the fact that it might be providing a ready-made platform, literally, for unfriendly acts against women?  The gruesome and murderous outrage committed against a girl in a Delhi bus is still haunting most of us.  One particularly perverted and revolting section of the Indian male species is already probably looking for all types of moving vehicles to outrage women; so, why this open invitation to such lewd and leering men? Why cant this be done inside some hospitals in various localities? Why?

@What: One section of Andhra Pradesh has been kept on the boil for many years with ongoing, violent agitations and rallies.  The government, in a callous display of sheer and desperate political opportunism, announces its decision to split the state.  Result:  Now it has two sets of people indulging in agitations and rallies - one seeking the new state and another against that.

@Why: It did not require great political sagacity, not even significant intelligence but just a bit of effort to use a pea-sized brain, to envision what would happen if the split of the state was announced.  Why is the government wringing its hands in witless despair now, clearly caught between the rock and the hard place?  Didn't it see what was coming, when most others could? Unless, of course, someone saw merit in engulfing the whole state in despair as against firmly dealing with the faction seeking change in status quo.  If this is indeed the case, for god's sake, why?

@What: With the frequent tussles between Democrats and Republicans resulting in the government teetering on the brink of financial collapse and economic rating downgrade, the US Congress has started resembling the Indian Parliament in some ways, especially the utter disregard of national interests for the sake of some brownie points for a party's skewed hardline position.

@Why: Days were when the democracies of the world looked up at the US Government and Congress with awe and respect, as role models in the conduct of parliamentary business. Indian public wanted the country's politicians to learn from the US system to run the parliament effectively and with dignity, whatever their differences.  For some strange reason, it looks like the roles have been reversed suddenly and the US politicians have developed this suicidal desire to ape the Indian politicians' way of ruining the country's reputation and economic standing, with their narrow, selfish, party-driven thinking and mindless theatrics.  What next?  John Boehner and Nancy Pelosi leading their chosen teams to India for crash courses in the art (or is it `science'?) of accurately hurling mikes and miscellaneous objects at each other and sticking their tongues out at their opponents to express their displeasure?  Why?

Finally, a recent news item indicated that the Chief Minister of Karnataka State has expressed his ardent desire to get a Bullet Train clone to run between Bangalore and Mysore.   I am not even going to ask Why! I know somebody told him to follow his dream and he did.  Just that it is a bad dream, I think. Let us run our 60 km-per hour `super-fast' trains well and safely for 5 years without any accident and then `dream' about high-speed trains!!  Why, you ask!  You need to assimilate a bit more knowledge on the Indian Rail system and its ways.  Start now, you wisdom-seeker!

Amchi Jhakaas Bombay!

I prefer Bombay, plain and simple.  No politics here and I affirm I have no particular aversion, none at all, to the alternative.  Lest I light up that parochial keg of gunpowder, keenly awaiting the fleeting touch of a matchstick! And I am quite impartial; it is still Madras for me.  I kept addressing letters and packages to Bombay and Madras till recently, when a very observant India Post employee in Bangalore helpfully warned me that the stuff may not get delivered, should some passionate local avers that my bovine insistence with the `old' names deserves punitive action and unceremoniously dumps it into a stinking cesspool of sewage.  Deservedly, in his opinion.  But, I digress.

Bombay, the city, is one of those things which one cannot be indifferent to - one either has a life-long love affair with it or burns with a gut-wrenching hatred for it even when coerced to do time there for `economic' reasons.  A shining example of the former tribe is my wife (she represents many of our friends who still call Bombay their home), who pines for the city, even though Bangalore has most of the `attractions' Bombay has to offer - milling crowds in cramped spaces, stifling traffic, seemingly cosmopolitan residents, foul smelling localities, to mention a few.  A very close friend of mine holds a fervent torch for the `nay' group.  Some 15 years back, during a chat he animatedly vowed to me that he would desert Bombay the day he ceases to have a job there.  This, despite having grown up in the city as a youngster!  Recently he retired and moved to, guess what, Bangalore! He planned everything so meticulously that by the evening of the last day of his employment, he had flown the coop, a relieved man in a celebratory mood.  His antipathy to the city was so visceral that he did not mind migrating to a place where he knew just one individual well!!  Now, both these souls are very normal human beings from somewhat similar backgrounds with similar lifestyles, but responded to Bombay in diametrically opposite ways.  One would not comprehend why, unless one has lived in the city for at least a couple of years. It is because Bombay is not just a city; it is a way of life and each one looks at it from a different perspective!

One well defined group which completely and passionately identifies itself with Bombay, very obviously, comprises the sons and daughters of the soil - those who consciously grow a bit of Bombay inside their body and soul and probably are not desirous of any change.  This may be true of other cities too, but more remarkably characteristic of Bombay.  Someone from this group would have possibly moved from one `housing society' to another within Andheri while growing up and buy an apartment with `modern amenities' in Malad or Kandivili after marriage.  Even this massive relocation, which entails travelling along the same train line through two additional stations, would have been avoided, had the incoming bride not made it a pre-condition for the marriage.  Shifting from the central railway line to the suburbs lying on the eastern railway line would be an unthinkable anathema for many, for sure.  How this group is completely aligned and integrated with `amchi Bombay' is demonstrated by a true story.  In the 90s, we had senior level vacancies in Madras and Calcutta in our organization and we chose to offer these to two guys from Bombay.  The panel explained the job, the salary (much higher), perks (car, house and a few others - all extra), good schools for children etc etc, over 20 minutes.  The first guy waited till we finished with the details and politely declined.  Our entreaty that he discussed with his family before deciding did not make him yield an inch.  He smiled and told us he was happy with the recognition but could not dream of moving out of Bombay, ever.  With the second guy, we had even lesser luck - half way through our recitation, he rejected outright, almost rudely. That they preferred to live in a tiny single-bed apartment in far-off Virar and Nallasopara, suffering the long ordeal of the daily commute in stiflingly congested local trains and sacrificed all the financial benefits the higher position offered in the other cities, could be brain-numbing, only if one had not comprehended the psyche of the quintessential Bombaywallah.  For him, deserting jhakaas Bombay is akin to sin!  On that day, I marvelled at the adhesive-like attachment these people developed with their city and I still do, having lived in eight different cities in thirty years.

One group of Bombay residents who probably just about tolerate the city only because it provides them with livelihood is the migrant labour from other parts of India, primarily from the north.  Let us leave them out of this discussion because they would gladly be back in their own towns, if only they could secure three square meals for their families there.  So, they stick around despite all the insults heaped on them by some local politicians who repeatedly make it clear that they are unwelcome; not out of love for Bombay but out of economic compulsions.

Then there is that group, so well represented by my wife.  Such people are superbly supported by corporates; they have large, well-furnished apartments in the heart of the city or in tony suburbs and rub shoulders with Bollywood stars occasionally; they drive some of the nicest cars available and have all  material comforts.  No doubt, they can indulge in some of the best shopping in India and dine at the swankiest of restaurants/hotels.  But these cannot be the reasons for their love for Bombay, because they can have all these in any other city in India, without tolerating some obvious negatives of Bombay.  So, why this unalloyed love for that city?

An anecdotal explanation is probably the easiest to offer.  When we shifted to Bombay for the first time, we went to inspect our apartment, going through the finishing touches of renovation.  That done, we stepped into the lift lobby to see a melee - some seven people jostling for space and our attention, shepherded by the security guard.  They identified themselves as grocer, newspaper man, `ironing woman', car-washer, vegetable vendor, domestic helper and milk vendor!! In 15 minutes flat, they had gathered our requirements from the next week and vanished without a trace.  Now, which other city would offer that kind of enterprise and logistical support? In any other place, that process would have taken a heart-breaking, head-splitting few days to complete, with maniacal follow-up and a few slip-ups subsequently.  Bombay is what it is primarily because it is the most functional city in India, backed up by a fantastic spirit of enterprise.  Everything works - well, almost, in relative terms.  Why so?  People are comparatively more professional and more importantly, know the value of time; they realise that time is money and any time wasted in `phokat' conversation means a lost opportunity.  Very material approach to life, but it helps.  So, a taxi driver does not waste time haggling with you about a short ride, but takes you without demur and happily moves on quickly to the next short ride.  This spirit pervades Bombay and the dynamism so created is what people love, specifically. And the same urge to convert every opportunity to extra money is what drives the Bombaywallah, despite all the attendant constrictions of Bombay life.

However, having given Bombay its due, I do have a beef with the much-hyped `resilience' of Bombay in the aftermath of a tragedy.  I dont believe this is anything unique.  Every town or city which suffers a severe setback gets up, dusts itself and restores itself to `normalcy' over a period.  Bhuj, the Gujarat town, which took a monumental hit during the earthquake, was back in business - in a much spruced up avatar, I believe - a couple of years later and all those tsunami-devastated towns in various countries rejuvenated themselves to cope with tourism and life all over again. The much-vaunted resilience of Bombay actually tragically masks the limp helplessness of the residents in improving infrastructure, security, living conditions at the lower levels etc. The typical dynamism goes for a toss and in the face of sheer apathy of the powers-that-be, the `grin and bear it' approach takes over.  If Bombay wants to pride itself on this ability to suffer stoically, so can other places! 

Cheers to Bombay!!

Indian Voter's Polylemma!

 Usually, elections at all levels are disposed of with robotic nonchalance by our family.  We do discharge our democratic duties diligently and get our fingers inked.  Then plonk ourselves in front of the TV to find out which set of corrupt and inept politicians would mismanage our affairs through gross non-governance for the next five years.  But do we ever pick our candidate after extensive analysis? Nah.  Our decision to vote for a candidate is based on the cumulative effect of all the inputs we have consciously and unconsciously imbibed since the last election.  And more often than not, the choice has more to do with the party which has contrived to create the illusion that it is doing better in some spheres; seldom predicated on the candidate - most probably because we have never had a candidate of that stature.  Yes, there are exceptional cases in which a candidate gets the vote regardless of the party, but those are isolated instances.  During the last state assembly election, my wife and I thoughtlessly set a trap for ourselves and walked into it, eyes wide open!  During every election, we do hear some clarion calls urging us to select the `ideal' or `clean' candidate and this time we decided to experiment with this path, while making our choice.  So, unlike previous elections, we sat down and did some research about the candidates to find out who would merit our votes best.

I gasped when my wife let out a scream of desperation within the first minute of our starting the scrutiny of the candidates. She was justifiably alarmed that there were 17 of them - no less - vying for our votes in the constituency.  We were not so prejudiced that even before a cursory examination we doubted the absolutely altruistic intentions of this large a number of people to serve the electorate, but this just increased our workload manifold.  Our desire for extensive research on all candidates plummeted drastically with this discovery.  We were pessimistic to begin with, about both the need for and outcome of the exercise and now this clearly queered the pitch further.   However, we decided to plough on valiantly and in the next 24 hours, we had gleaned the following about the candidates:

(1) Of the 17, four were genuinely thick-skinned political honchos of various parties and it showed glaringly, almost like a halo.  All the four had multiple criminal cases against them, ranging from 14 for the `revered leader' from a national party to a rather modest 5 for the hopeful from the state-level party.  Each one had some `serious' cases according to the website but then we derived no further edification regarding the types of crimes.  Specifically we could not decipher whether any heinous crimes like rape, murder etc were involved and this really hampered our judgement. The declared net-worth of each one in this group had at least 10 zeroes behind a number and had skyrocketed in comparison with the disclosures five years back, further lending credence to the impression that they were all seasoned players, who specialized in accumulating wealth without much investment (a colleague used to call this `dipping your personal pen into the public ink pot') - a knack (not skill, mind you) only hardcore politicians employ unabashedly and get away with it.

(2) Four other candidates clearly had aspirational qualifications - they were activists of smaller parties - which could not be ignored.  They had only civil cases filed against them and obviously were seeking a platform to give their budding careers the decisive push and graduate to major criminal shenanigans, once they get our mandate.  You see, unadulterated brazenness and money-driven, blind loyalty of the factotums, so essential for committing serious crimes, spring from the power that is bestowed on elected positions.  Without that, this group woefully lacked the distinguishing aura that the previous group was blessed with.  But the redeeming feature was that they were all contractors and/or realtors - the right kind of essential attributes that marked them as the success stories in the not-too-distant-future and one could see why they were taking themselves seriously.

(3) The remaining nine, the perceptive judges in us could see even without further investigation, would inevitably be also-rans.  Simply because they had no real stature (lamentably not even civil cases against them!) to command respect nor testimonials for brute power to instill fear in the constituents.  All they could boast of was some random academic qualification, which would never be put to use for common good (some were engineers and others post graduates, but what good is that, even conceding that their degrees were not bought?). And a self-professed and demonstrated keenness to improve the lives of common men and women around them.  Evidently they were not moneybags, which fact unfailingly served to dismantle them from the race forthwith as far as the average voter is concerned.  That was the painful clincher.

We dealt with the last group first for very obvious reasons - we wanted to get the feel that we were making some progress!!  We realised that probably a few of these would make good elected representatives but chances of them ever getting there were zilch.  Out of 400,000 voters, some 10,000 educated people, with misplaced righteousness, might collectively opt for all these good men and women.  That obviously is not going to bring the bacon home for these.  The million dollar question was whether we wanted to be part of this small, thinking group, just for the satisfaction of having voted with our conscience for the better candidate.  The idea of opting for someone who would be a certain loser was not appetizing and definitely depressing.  What remained was the difficult choice between (a) those with criminal cases, who have done it all and were awaiting convictions and (b) those who were bursting at their seams to attain that higher glory and would do their damnedest to join the elite group, if only we gave them that window of opportunity, appreciating their eagerness and enthusiasm!

Very distressed by the prognosis thus far, we decided to digress a bit and looked at the photos of all the aspiring leaders in this pool, just to take our minds away from the bewildering task on hand.  That was a serendipitous masterstroke and gave us a breakthrough inkling in terms of some criteria for a decision.   We could choose one with ostensible belligerence in visage and intimidating bulk in physique, so that `our voice' would be heard in the assembly whenever our worthy representative moves like a bull into the well of the house and disrupts the proceedings.  Or we could elect someone seemingly older and more mature, who would quietly sit there without uttering one word (not because he is a profound philosopher but because he cannot speak in public to save his life), shiftily watching `something interesting' on his mobile phone!  So, could this be the ultimate deciding factor in helping us cast our votes?

Come to think of it,  after all the hoopla, once elected, what are the Honorary Members going to do when they condescend to take a break from disrupting the House to actually legislate??  They would quickly and painlessly pass those bills which perpetuate all the ills of our electoral system - they would legalize electing a person jailed for murder and the like; they would legitimize the continuation in power of those convicts who have appealed against guilty verdicts and are roaming around freely, while manipulating the judicial system to prevent their cases from ever coming up for hearing.  If they still had some time, they would bestow additional perks and compensation on themselves and as a concession to the people, would also approve a couple of populist bills when they are close to the next election.  And the few brilliant and seemingly earnest and sincere men and women we manage to elect, with the expectation  that they would help reform the political class, are pathetic, silent spectators of all these activities.  Legal luminaries, economists, wealthy businessmen, scientists and intelligentsia - all of them prove helpless in arresting the avalanche of the ordinary!  Aren't they as guilty of betraying our trust as the real offenders??

We shrewdly decided to go with the national party's candidate with the least number of criminal cases against him!  What is the big idea of promoting a lesser candidate to a higher level of criminality?  Or voting for a candidate who would not win, come what may?  Clean candidates have to wait a long while, probably!!

Blame it on our DNA!!

A recent trip to Sri Lanka turned out to be a revelation for my wife in some respects, but there was a stand-out discovery.  Being a stickler for cleanliness everywhere, she squealed in delight and wonderment over the phone that `Sri Lankans are so clean and they keep public places spick-and-span'.  I have been through this routine so many times in different contexts and as a well-prepped and disciplined trooper, braced myself for what was coming.  The inevitable followup question, justifiably tinged with sadness and embarrassment, was `why cant we Indians do the same'?  Some patriotic Indians, bristling with injured pride, justify many unpleasant things in our country, citing its size.  `Come on, Sri Lanka is so tiny' would have been a typical response from such quarters - an attempt to simultaneously defend the indefensible and deny credit where it belongs.  As if a reasonably small unit, a lane with 10 houses in an Indian town or city, is unfailingly the glistening example of cleanliness, always.  The truth is that collectively we are so bereft of shame and so woefully short on pride in our surroundings that we willingly settle for our messed-up immediate neighbourhoods and this translates to even small areas being filled-to-the brim with garbage and filth dumped indiscriminately by residents.  Not talking of any slum here but of well-to-do middle class localities. If people carved out their own small spaces and diligently took care of cleanliness, any country, however big, can be clean; that is a no-brainer.  Let us admit it - we just dont have it in us to do this and that is the honest truth.  Why?  We are like that only!  Let us blame it on our DNA.  Would that explain why the shopping/eating areas owned and frequented primarily by Indians in Serangoon Road, Singapore and Edison, New Jersey, USA are dirtier?

One does not have to go too far to identify at least one major national characteristic which contributes significantly to the above state of affairs - our tendency to brazenly abandon individual responsibility completely and hope that `the authorities' will do `something' to fix the problem.  This, even when such authorities have seldom exhibited the desire or the willingness to show signs of stirring out of their permanent slumber and, to boot, when the problem is usually created wantonly by citizens going out of the way to be irresponsible.  As, when they willfully scatter garbage from their own houses on the roads or footpaths, just so that their interiors can be clean! When this garbage mound expands in size and threatens their own front door, people do mount a reluctant assault to push it back a wee bit. Then, with contented resignation, they rapidly relapse into their misplaced optimism in the ability of the authorities to perform, despite knowing that nothing is going to happen.  A lot of our public ills can be cured somewhat if only citizens contribute in small, meaningful ways, pro-active or reactive.  If we think about it, we are all ever so willing to bitch continuously about something and wait for some alien  to work an improbable miracle instead of taking a tiny individual or collective initiative for the first curative step.

The other predominant negative attribute that is a character flaw in Indians is that infinite capacity to roundly criticise everyone in and out of sight for some fault or lapse, which we ourselves are squarely guilty of.  Take, for example, the swelling number of cars on the roads; many people blame the car manufacturing companies and the government, with seriously righteous indignation, for flooding the place with new cars, when the infrastructure to support those is conspicuously absent.  The funny part is that most of these offended people can count at least two large cars and two SUVs in their stables, for various family members or pets and to suit different travel requirements!!  Another variant is when these enlightened people passionately damn others for being the sole occupant of a car on the road.  Without pausing to consider where others' journeys originated or ended to facilitate sharing rides, these critics go crimson in faces demanding why people cannot car-pool!  All this, while each such critic is sitting cozily in a five-seater car by himself/herself, driven by a chauffeur.  They forget that the driver does not meaningfully augment the count of occupants in cars and they are guilty of the same sin they are condemning others for or worse, because of the larger cars they use. 

Being sensitive about others, especially in public spaces and empathy stemming therefrom are qualities in which we have a chasm-like deficit. Think of all those people who thrive on high-decibel conversations in restaurants, as if their sole objective is to broadcast meaningless details of their lives to as many patrons as possible, regardless of the reaction of the audience; of those who conduct a robust and loud analysis of a movie even as they watch it, punctuated by deliberate and raucous laughter with the overt intent to disrupt and annoy - unmindful of the clucks and subtle admonishments of those sitting around them; or those who pull out their mobile phones with exceptional alacrity to have some inane conversation loudly, even as the movie screen beseeches the audience to switch off their mobiles and be considerate to others, as if that particular appeal was the stimulant they were waiting for.  We have been mute and helpless witnesses to and victims of such behaviour for years, hoping in vain that things would eventually improve in the distant future, while simultaneously suspecting that nothing will change.

It is galling that this inability to empathize pervades even 'service' industries.  Recently, sitting in USA,  I found out that my overseas travel insurance had to be extended for three days as I postponed my return flight.  I spent about 6 hours over the next two days on phone, trying to get through to the listed numbers - about ten of them, very helpfully plastered all over the brochure given to me - managing only to singe both my ears from the heat generated by my own phone in the process.  I had little else to show for my troubles, so sent email requests to three different addresses, followed up increasingly nasty reminders. Drawing not one but multiple blanks, I roped in my wife at this end to mount complementary efforts in India by calling the local numbers of the provider to escalate, since the expiry of my policy was imminent.  It was amazing that not one call or email elicited any response (the agents of the same company called me a dozen times in a day, to ensure that I purchased the same policy from them before leaving).  Call number 67 in our collective effort finally got us to some cog in the wheel, who sent me a form to sign which I did in two minutes flat and sent back.  By this time the policy had expired and I was desperate, since medical-insuranceless-existence in USA can be diabolically nightmarish, as you can vouch.  What if I needed some medical attention when the policy remained comfortably comatose, despite my best efforts? Mercifully I, almost sick from tension, returned to India without any hiccup , with my request for extension still dormant.  And pronto, I got a call from the provider, asking if I wanted extension for the policy - I am sure they just wanted to pocket that premium if possible. Finally I got hold of a senior officer of the provider through another friend and gave a lashing, berating him for his company's lack of empathy.  He coolly told me `Sir, we would have covered any medical emergency, taking into consideration your application for extension.  You should not have worried'.  It is all well for him to say that, knowing fully well that no claim would be forthcoming but I got put through a wringer for a few days - all because people just could not think of the state of the other guy!  I am sure this happens to everyone frequently.

You can add to this list and go on endlessly - the ability to talk tirelessly and listen much less or not at all (watch the TV news anchored by some of the best names in the industry!); being satisfied with mediocrity, when a little push would have yielded better results (as testified by unsightly holes drilled into the wall for some cable); the constant endeavour to leave a place, any place, messier than when we moved in (remember all the paper tumblers, polythene wrappers and pop corn strewn generously on and around the Gold Class seats in the multiplex?);  or when workmen summoned to repair something in your home complete the job and depart, leaving all the debris + some of the accumulated dust and dirt from their overalls as a bonus, for you to clean up?); an inborn proficiency in criticising people without too much provocation while never offering a word of appreciation when confronted by a good deed (sounds familiar?).

That reminds me - it is not that there is nothing redeeming about us Indians.  Plenty, I should say.  But then, I would rather reserve those positives for another exclusive piece.  I would like to assure all those hypersensitive, patriotic Indians that (a) `we' in the above paras includes `I', so this author is as guilty as anyone else (b) I do not derive any orgasmic pleasure from relentless self-flagellation and (c)  I don't want to be accused of being a harsh lout of a critic, who cannot see a virtue even if it rubs its nose with mine.  Till then!!

Investment advice we can do without!!

Last year, during one of our regular runs between Madras and Bangalore, we had stopped at a road-side tea stall for a cuppa, after my wife had completed the mandatory, thorough reconnoitering trip inside to ensure that things were clean.  While awaiting the arrival of the invigorating potion, we heard a group of three patrons -- they seemed regulars-- discussing about stock market and specific companies.  I was somewhat rattled when they left with this parting shot in Thamizh, to the lady making the tea: `Dont be stupid, don't sell ITC; get rid of Madras Cement instead'.  They did not turn to see me agape at hearing such sagely advice in the boondocks.  But the lady (owner of the tea stall) caught my astonished look and with a wry smile asked `why sir, can't we invest in shares'?  I had absolutely no problem with anyone dabbling in shares (and P.Chidambaram would probably wear an additional towel, swelling with pride at seeing `equity culture' seeping into countryside tea-stalls) but was aghast as to what kind of advice such people got and how they went about this rather intriguing business! More informed people, with an apparently better support system, do struggle with decisions to buy and sell and there we were, with a tea-stall owner in the middle of nowhere, mocking me at my surprised look!

Goaded into some discussion, the lady disclosed that she went by `recommendations' from a few regular customers (she did not clarify whether they got chai free in lieu), what she read in the newspapers and from English TV channels which pontificated on the subject, regardless of whether there was any audience.  In the process, she herself had become an `advisor' of sorts in her own community for those who had the flint and some surplus cash, to step into that minefield.  She was cagey about how much money she had made from trading in shares - as if we were income tax sleuths, pottering around the countryside looking for equity investors evading taxes on capital gains! But obviously she could not hide her pride and wanted us to know that she was successful in her endeavour, indicating clearly that her book was running `positive'.  Her husband, who seemed a truly subservient male under the thumb of the ruling deity, smiled broadly as much in agreement as in appreciative awe of the wily lady's acumen.  Ever since we made that trip, all the investment decisions I previously made unhindered, are  undergoing a newly-introduced in-house audit review by my wife, whose attitude is obviously `if she can, I can too'!

But then why should one be surprised?  Most Indians are Jekyll and Hyde characters, as we know; they are first and foremost either cricket pundits or investment specialists (many are staunchly both!) and then in the remainder of their time, they try to live the lives assigned to them.  There seems to be this unrelenting urge in everyone to be an equity dealer, a latent suicidal desire bursting at the seams to buy and sell at some opportunity and exploding frequently, resulting in losses.  When some such specimens find that their bets are going well 20% of the time, they magically accumulate a fan following via all possible routes including social media and investment-specific website fora.  Very soon they become 'thought leaders' in their own right and dole out advice non-stop, as if they had inside information that the share market is staring at permanent closure in a few months.  They are very soon further elevated by the sponsoring fora and ensconced as investment gurus to quickly develop a permanent and compulsive flow of opinions on all kinds of companies and situations, even in their sleep. Most established brokerage houses generally try to substantiate their conclusion on a stock by publishing well-researched analysis and rationale and they can probably boast of a 30% success rate after all that effort.  But these so-called-gurus have no such compulsion and never hesitate to anoint a stock as a buy or sell, splurging not more than 6 to 7 oft-repeated words on its merits or demerits, seemingly thriving on sheer guesswork.

Let us look at some of the typical Oracle-like pronouncements frequently made by such gurus. `Stock ABC may see higher levels' avers one advisor, being overly coy in not giving even a hint as to why he divines so and the approximate time-frame for this eventuality.  Somewhat akin to the meteorological department, with all its technogical contraptions and satellite support `predicting' rain sometime in the future.  In my opinion, the weatherman comes out distinctly ahead because he does not exhort you to gamble with your money, as he is gazing into his crystal glass; at the most it is a question of getting your hair a bit wet, if you are cussedly unlucky! The same stock advisor is uncharacteristically a bit more elucidating and over-committed by his usual standard of vagueness, when he says `AAA may possibly test 320 in the next 6 months', as the share is wallowing around at 330 that day!  Come on, give me a break; a pundit predicting a 10 rupee-band for possible, not even probable, movement in half year!!  `I prefer XYZ' says another, as if he is talking about dietary choices he is evaluating and has been forced to decide in favour of onion pakora rather than raj kachori! `Stay away from BBB stock' or `Avoid infra space' are familiar dictates from such advisors, again without any supporting argument as to why they say so, but then most of the regulars have already figured that out a couple of months earlier without any prompting! 

If these open-mouthed (only because they ceaselessly suffer from verbal diarrhoea) predictors are outstanding in their vagueness and lack of specificity, they cannot be faulted for not measuring up in terms of quantity.  Two such predictors had some 42 opinions on stocks in very diversified industries, all within a period of 2-3 days.  There is absolutely no pretense of specialization in any industry.  What is the need? After all, balance sheets, profit and loss accounts and numbers are the same, industry characteristics be damned! I decided to keep track of some of the `predictions' and as can be expected from mass producers of stock recommendations, some 4-5% of the recommendations were right over a period of time.  I am sure the tea-stall lady, with her three magi as fleeting advisors, did better without making so much noise, simply because she was forking out real money, her own, in the process!  I am so sure of the quality of some advisors that I constantly play the contrarian for the heck of it and can assure you of having done reasonably well overall.  So, one might say there is some use for such advisors, after all??

I jumped out of my skin one day, some years back, when I saw my father watching NDTV Profit and intently following the ticker tape running at the bottom of the screen.  He has never gone anywhere near the stock market ever and had no reason to be glued to that screen.  But he was and when I asked him why, his answer was a simple `just like that'!  I think many of these advisors have taken this a few drastic steps ahead and are into advising `just like that'.  There is no need to pity the followers because they happily `created'  this tribe of advisors in the first place!!  They deserve what they get.

The I, Me, Myself Generation

In a May 13 article in Time titled `The Me Me Me Generation', Joel Stein lambasted those youngsters born in the USA between 1980 and 2000 for their overwhelming self-absorption.  For some inexplicable reason his title sounds even more damning than what I have chosen! The sum and substance of that article is that those youngsters are so narcissistic that they cannot see beyond their own noses (assuming they wanted to do that, in the first place) and cannot think of anything other than themselves.  Self-centred is an epithet that just seems a woefully inadequate under-statement to describe them, Joel Stein avers, armed with streams of analysis and statistics.  I have neither the depth of understanding of the American society nor the analytical ammunition to agree or disagree with him, but what I read certainly set me thinking as to what is the scenario in a more conservative society like the Indian middle class.  The single major difference is that in the US, the succeeding generation is not expected to financially support the previous one as a pay-back, just as the latter is not expected to foot the bill for the youngster beyond his school days! In such situations, the quintessentially US tradition of DIY culture kicks in!  In view of this, I guess the accusation of self absorption has more to do with the younger generation's desire to cocoon itself with its own preoccupations than with its closed fist when it comes to financial support.

Let us look at this issue in three parts - selfishness in financial matters, self-absorption to the detriment of family bonding and the consequent lack of emotion or feeling for others.  For the purpose of brevity let us call the Grandparents' generation GPG, Parents' generation PG and the young generation YG. The disclaimer here is, all statements made are to be seen more in the generational perspective than as referring to a single family unit.  And, remember we are talking of the middle class here and let us not focus on standard deviations!

Is YG financially more selfish in India? Whichever way we cut the pie, the answer is not clear.  GPG probably had to toil harder to feed many more mouths in a joint family, including distant kith and kin who gravitated towards the sole educated and employed member of the extended family in a town or city for succour. Uninvited they came and latched on, as they struggled out of the morass of poverty and the GPG had that much more heart to oblige.  This also meant abysmally low or no savings at all at the time of retirement for GPG, which in turn meant heavy reliance on PG for monetary support in old age.

With gradually increasing access to education as we celebrate it in India - however imperfect it is - as well as to employment opportunities, the overall financial burden on PG has been diluted somewhat. Higher disposable income and reduced demand from sponging relatives due to the gradual disintegration of the joint family system meant PG is not in the same dire financial position as GPG was at a similar juncture in life.   While YG recognizes and acknowledges the fact that PG has invested resources in its own upbringing, it does not find anything extraordinary to crow about that.  After all, what kind of parents would breed and then dump the children to fend for themselves?  So, this argument, touted by GPG as a great virtue because of the more adverse circumstances then prevailing, turns out to be a whole lot of hot air for PG!

In defence, YG insists it gets out of PG's hair at the earliest - it willingly becomes a borrower (YG is definitely more of a risk-taker than prior generations, for the sake of good standard of living!) at an early stage in life to get higher education or car or house.  Providing financial support to get girls married off is less of an issue, since girls are given similar education as boys and get similar jobs too.  As such, the girls' ability to manage their own lives has increased. Anyway YG perceives the savings of PG as a reasonable reservoir for many eventualities.  The clincher is this - GPG typically had no savings at the time of retirement; so PG was obliged to step in, otherwise who will do that?  But PG saves enough and plans for retirement meticulously, so why expect financial help from YG?   YG is clear that it will gladly support the family when in need.  Very logical, one should admit and an incisive case against YG for financial selfishness is not made out.   We do read about parents being left in the lurch, but then historically we have always had such cases and all generations should collectively hang their heads in shame for such despicable treatment of progenitors.  But then, are parents always reasonable and is the YG always guilty in such cirumstances - who is to pass judgement on that?

Question: Is Y generally devoid of the ability to connect emotionally with others inside and outside the family?

There is clearly a problem here. There seems to be a gradual deterioration of the emotional bond between the generations.  The environment in schools and homes are no longer what they were twenty years ago.  Both parents of PG probably worked or were busy with their own inerests, resulting in lesser attention being given to YG.  Availability of separate bed rooms with TVs, mobile phones and gaming for children ensured that YG spent their free time (may be, most of their time) cocooned in their own small world, cut off from the extensive human contact the earlier generations enjoyed in joint families and with the outside world.  The downward spiral in terms of emotional bonding had begun and YG connected better with a few friends, that too through social media than with family members.  Later, when youngsters saw some moolah without too much pain or struggle and realised that they need no longer be under the thumbs of their elders for survival, the tenor of their interactions with the elders changed.  What aided in this process is the enormous influence of higher education, media and travel, which exposed the youngsters to wider horizons in all directions, desirable or otherwise.  They started questioning beliefs and expectations, which were dictated by societal norms of yore, while purposefully moving away from the submissive tone adopted in their interactions with elders.  Things tended to become matter-of-fact, more pragmatic than emotional. These features ended up being interpreted as disrespectful and offensive behaviour by GPG and PG, while YG continued its merry ride on its own revolutionary road, which became the new-normal!  When you look from this angle, yes, YG does come through as less emotionally giving and more selfish than the earlier generations.  This is evidenced by the plethora of troubles marriages go through nowadays and the phenomenal rise in suicides and divorces - some of them for the flimsiest reasons.  These things do point to an inherent inability to deal with other people with tolerance and the desire for quick retreat into one's own personal space for security, regardless of the damaging fall-out all around.

But, let us temper that observation a bit.  We see more youngsters seriously involved today in all sorts of attempts to teach/educate the poor and readily helping with other social causes - be it cleaning a neighbourhood or fighting the mafia to save a water-body in a city.  They are much more politically and socially aware (I am not talking about discussing political issues threadbare from arm-chairs!), thanks to the media in general and to being part of the social media networks, making them willing participants in political and other rallies demanding changes for the better.  I have personally known many young men and women who have ventured into disaster-hit places far away, to bravely put up with dismal conditions and help the affected people.   All these are definitely not the signals a completely selfish brat-pack would send out.  So, YG is not without its redeeming features here too.

What is happening is, overall, financial independence has given youngsters the ability to operate independently outside the influence of elders who are anchored in their conventional wisdom.  Enormous amounts of time and money is spent by YG in what the elders see as trivial pursuits, primarily to pamper its own superficial cravings and to satisfy its urge to be abreast of peers in such material endeavours.  While GPG and PG may have watered down their expectations from YG, based on experience, the chasm between what they want and what they get from YG is too big to bridge.  And, I see no reason to hope for a change in YG's ways - it is probably far too enamoured of its new-found ways and more importantly, has neither the desire nor willingness to change!

Hoarders and Discarders!

When our housekeeper materialised from nowhere and announced that my wife desires urgent conversation with me, he was trying hard to suppress a gleeful smile.  That was a dead give-away, since that specific signal emanates from him only when his antenna picks up an `exciting' situation, with immense potential for entertaining fireworks, culminating in some form of discomfiture to me. You see, he is firmly plonked on my wife's corner for the past 25 years and I would be an imbecile to expect that status to change, ever.  To his credit, his judgement is generally sound on these matters, since he would have already had an advance exchange with Memsaheb on the emergent inquisition and would have helpfully organised the stake for the forthcoming scalding, if not burning!  I found the presiding deity, arms akimbo, face creased into a furrow, intently scrutinizing the contents of the cupboard, which is the repository of old magazines, newspapers, and the like.  The housekeeper followed me and as is his wont in such situations, took a comfortable position at a distance, from where he can jump in to add fuel to the raging fire as and when such intervention is required or even if it is superfluous.

My wife hissed to me `How many times should I tell you to leave my papers alone????', even though it would be well nigh impossible to hiss a whole sentence without too many sibilants in it.  But I swear she hissed and very well, too! Ah, now that the portends had appeared on the horizon and the tone was obviously ominous , I found myself already on the defensive, even before the arguments were presented and the judgement pronounced.  For, I was on familiar ground and knew from experience that even without any paraphernalia, the prosecutor-cum-judge (convenient, isn't it?) would find me guilty as charged. `What seems to be the problem' was my brave rejoinder, under the circumstances.  She dispensed with preliminaries and just summarily apportioned guilt without any fuss - `Yesterday you threw some old magazines that I had `preserved' for a long time for eventual use'?  `I did remind him, madam,' interjected the housekeeper very helpfully. He did and I did discard a load, because how was I to know that the day after disposal, the time for such `eventual use' would arrive?  And that she would barge in seeking a 3 year old magazine, which she has never so much looked at again after the initial browsing; how uncanny would that be? But, there I was, in the dock for having committed the heinous crime.  I did all the usual fidgeting the underdog does in the presence of a powerful judge - sucked my breath in soundlessly, mumbled meaninglessly, shuffled my feet a few times, wrung my hands continuously and finally confessed to my sin! Which was throwing away loads of stuff, residing in a whole cabinet for a few years, without anyone seemingly opening it except for adding more junk  to the pile.  This had happened to me earlier, simply because I am a `discarder' and my wife is a `hoarder'.

If you are an avid and shrewd observer of life, as this scribe is, you will see many kids showing precocious signs of compulsive accumulation of anything - chocolates, toys, hairpins, bangles, marbles, stunted pencils, whatever. If you fancy yourself as a genuine well-wisher of those `gifted' children and their parents, you should alert the latter to channelize the energies of such kids into an activity which legitimizes accumulation and hoarding.  Like, stamp collection, coin collection, card collection, book collection etc, which can be pursued as grown-ups also, without causing damage to the environment and people in some way.  This is a monumental task, which requires sustained and committed efforts from all around.  Otherwise, even if parents and teachers combine their efforts and manage to lull this hoarding instinct somewhat (that is, if such parents and teachers themselves are free from the virus of `hoarding') in growing children, the remedy is just temporary.  The somewhat stifled fervour resurfaces, pretty much like chicken pox not dealt with properly in childhood. With a vengeance, when such children are adults and are no longer parentable or teachable (true, many reach this stage quite early in their lives, well before adulthood for sure)  and they promptly start hoarding all sorts of undesirable things, causing tremendous grief to others around them.  The resultant problem is multi-dimensional - one, someone, who is usually a pathetic victim, has to find the space for such hoarding because hoarders themselves do not care for such niceties and living space gets encroached and eventually taken over; two, since the rule of limitation is not enforceable here and there is no oracle to say when someone would find the courage to discard the stuff, if ever, the demand for expansion of space is perennial and it is impossible to satiate that kind of hunger.  

I know of male friends who have hoarded every marble they have used as a kid.  One has accumulated thousands of discarded movie film rolls, with his favourite actor in diverse striking poses, singing various popular songs or in different stages of delivering declamatory dialogue.  One guy has got copies of all the `letters to the editor' he had written over 20 years. He uses the rationale that since no editor was good enough to publish any letter, his copies are the only ones left for posterity and so deserve the honour of being hoarded.  One friend has a few thousand cassette tapes of old, pre-CD songs (which are coated with dust and grime, from disuse) stored in various nooks and crannies in his house, even though he has graduated to other media for listening to music long back. None of these people is known to go back to their collections for any purpose, but would not dream of cleaning up! As for females, without being pilloried, one can safely say, hoarding begins with clothes and footwear and never ends; not even when the hoarded clothes and sandals are quarter the sizes they fit into currently.  Even the incentive of being able to buy fresh ones to fill up the space occupied by old stuff is not attractive enough for them to begin discarding.  They want to do both, hoard and buy new ones!!

On the other side, is the true-blue discarder! He just revels in tearing up everything he fancies; the sooner, the better, even if common sense dictates that a piece of paper may  be retained for a while and is going to be pertinent to his life in the next fortnight.  I know of people who destroy bank statements received two days back, after a cursory look and then go running for duplicate copies one week later from the bank because they cannot identify one transaction!  These specimens are more likely to discard stuff first and find themselves short of socks or underwear, because they have not had time to replenish! Many times they destroy photocopies of papers just in time; two days later they find that they need those photocopies again but unfortunately they had already disposed of the originals much earlier because they had photocopies!  They will gleefully tear up the boarding passes immediately after landing and wonder where they can get copies from, when they find that miles have not been credited to the frequent flyer account!  They would vigorously advocate throwing away yesterday's newspaper and run around like headless chicken to find the same newspaper two days later, when someone points out to them that they missed something interesting or important!

Interestingly, all hoarders are not savers of money and accumulators of wealth; and there are a number of discarders I know, who are very serious about savings to the point of being stingy! Such empirical evidence just baffles me.

And it gets livelier and entertaining when a discarder is juxtaposed to a hoarder through marriage or otherwise.  Clashes of interest are intense and objectives are diametrically opposite; the scene is set for frequent flare-ups and fierce arguments, if both parties are likely to dig in their heels.  Mercifully, if one is weaker, things subside pretty quickly and normalcy is restored.  More often than not, the discarder gets away with bouts of quiet  spring-cleaning; only because invariably the hoarder never seeks to retrieve anything from the hoard and derives satisfaction from the `idea' of hoarding.  There is absolutely no need for a 'touch and feel' kind of experience.  That would complicate things, as explained in the first two paras of this script and then all one party can say is `I am guilty' and hope to get away with that.  Because, this scene will play out again and again and again!! Neither party learns, let me assure you.

Questions and counter-questions; no answers!!

Even if you are an occasional watcher of that abomination called news hour on prime-time TV, like this scribe, you don't have to be very perceptive to figure out something rather ridiculous is going on. This tactic all mediocre politicians (mostly that is what we can boast of) use, when they are painted into a corner by a disturbing query from the opposite number or the anchor about some misdeed of their tribe.  They try dexterously to dance around the periphery and stonewall (for exactly these skills they are the anointed spokespersons of their respective parties) because the answer is something which will show them in unflattering light.  When they realize their plight, they use the final asthra in their armour in order to wriggle out of the tight corner - they effortlessly slide back to the oft-used tactic of delving into their archives and posing a counter question in the same domain, which shames the opposition .  No answer is provided, but the problem is solved.  While the younger generation of politicians attempts to provide some answer, however weak, the old bandicoots are shameless experts in exploiting this strategy.


The 1965 Thamizh movie `Thiruvilayadal' is about how Lord Shiva physically comes to the rescue of serious devotees in times of trouble.  One episode shows Shiva trying to help a small-time struggler of a  poet compete in the king's court, in a contest of verses to answer a question giving the King sleepless nights.  Shiva descends to earth, commiserates with the poet, who is desperately trying to compose the verse for the contest and without disclosing his own identity, offers to provide the verse, encouraging the poet to plagiarize - not the right role model for kids,  but then Gods can do what they please, right?   The poet bristles at having to borrow the verse of the stranger and pooh-poohs the idea, expressing doubts about the capability of Shiva.  So, Shiva wants to settle the matter through a session of catechism between the two and asks the poet `do you want to ask the questions or do I ask them'?  The answer from the poet - and he says this without even pausing for breath or batting an eye-lid - is etched in the memory of all Thamizh moviegoers for life - `No, No, I will ask the questions and you answer; because I only know the questions, never the answers'.  This classic line repeatedly plays in the absurd theatre of contemporary Indian politicians, whenever they are asked an inconvenient question.  In response, they go through plain evasion, then switch to equivocation and finally, when they see no way out, they raise a counter-question, knowing fully well that an answer will not be forthcoming.

Take the latest example of this worthy from Congress, who will remain unnamed (a clue: he is highly prone to this foot-in-the-mouth disease, his first name begins with D and ends with Y and  is a shameless practitioner of sycophancy) and who had this laughable poser in the context of the Supreme Court saying that the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) is a `caged parrot, with many masters'.  Not a single person with even a modicum of intelligence and understanding of ground realities of Indian politics, would have a problem with that super-accurate statement of the court, since CBI has long become subservient to the government of the day and has been a tool to beat its opponents with.  Obviously this individual does not measure up to the parameters specified above and fails to comprehend why the court said what it said.  He wants to play holier than thou and develops a sudden love for our institutions overnight.  So, instead of providing a rational answer to the court and public to rebut or explain as to how the government can improve things with reference to CBI, he has the temerity to ask his own question: `Are we not belittling our institutions by calling them parrots etc'? What an astounding level of brazenness in one who is a seasoned politician? Or is this so only because he is a seasoned politician? If anyone has unabashedly belittled our institutions day in and day out, there should be absolutely no doubt that it is our politicians of all hues.  Just look at our parliament and assemblies when they are in session and the charades that go on in the name of democracy, if you need proof.  And here is D......Y saheb, shedding tears even the crocodiles would find hard to match!

How about the Gujarat riots of 2002, consequent to that horrendous incident at Godhra?  Nearly 1100 people perished and the arson scarred the Indian psyche for good in the aftermath.  Various inquisitions might have been held and the inconclusive verdicts issued, deliberately or otherwise.  But, there is no doubt that ultimately the government of the day should bear at least moral responsibility if not more.  Congress never tires of raising the uncomfortable question of the government's and Chief Minister's culpability for the pogrom, especially when they find themselves mired in more than the usual quota of scams.  Tired of squeamishly providing unconvincing responses for over a decade, of late BJP has started countering with their own question: `What happened in 1984 after the anti-Sikh riots? Did the government and the Prime Minister (since this happened in Delhi) accept accountability and resign or what?'.  Now, between the two parties, they probably think the matter is settled and they can move on to the next phase of their diabolical existence. But the general populace, the most affected party, is left in the lurch, still looking for some kind of closure with judgements from the courts delayed for almost one generation in one case.

Thanks to the devious practices of the political bigwigs, even common men, who are sympathizers of these parties, resort to similar tactics, when confronted with uncomfortable questions.  Recently, during a heated discussion involving a mixed group of people owing allegiance to different parties, a rabid BJP follower wondered why our External Affairs Minister should visit China and kow-tow there when the Chinese army had ingressed into Indian territory in Ladakh, obviously with the approval of the government.  He averred that Salman Kurshid's visit as well as the visit of the Chinese Prime Minister to India should be summarily cancelled by India, until China restores status-quo-ante.  There are a hundred diplomatic nuances surrounding such visits, which could have been the basis for a smart, well thought-out response from the Congress member in the group.  But his retort was typically shallow -`Aha, what was the venerable BJP Prime Minister doing, fiddling with his Pakistani counterpart, when that country was setting Kargil on fire'? This is what happens when leaders do not display the maturity and political savvy to provide reasoned responses to questions; how would the tiniest cogs in the wheel and minions behave differently?

When the 2G scam was raging and the details were being discussed threadbare everywhere, fortunately for the ruling party, the mining and land allotment scams surfaced almost simultaneously in Karnataka as minor reprieves, even though the numbers involved were nowhere comparable.  The demand of the opposition for the resignation of the Prime Minister was met with a cool `Why is not the Karnataka Chief Minister resigning, even after having been indicted by the court for corruption in land allotment?' was the answering question from the ruling party.  This did puncture a hole in the wheel of the opposition, regardless of its hoarse protests that the situations were not comparable (are they not?).  But once again, instead of a question and an answer, we ended up with two questions and nowhere to go.

This pitiful game will continue until our political culture changes and for that we need a good crop of genuine leaders with loads of maturity and willingness to accept their mistakes.  That is not going to happen in a hurry because as my wife usually says, one can wake somebody who is actually sleeping; how do you wake up someone who is pretending to be asleep?  Yes, our politicians have to crawl out of their own self-inflicted coma first, for things to show semblance of transformation.  Until then, we can only dumbly watch the flow of counter questions!!



 

Awkward Memory Outages

Recently, a good friend was explaining to me how acutely stricken he was when he suddenly blanked out on the name of the wife of his closest friend and neighbour for fifteen years.  The fact that my friend turned beet-red in the face even as he was describing this to me a few months later, told me something should have been seriously out of kilter with him.  The neighbour had come asking my friend, who was trying to fix something in his car, where Sunita was.  Half concentrating on what he was doing, my friend turned and looked at the neighbour blankly, not comprehending why he was being asked the question, since he just did not `recognize' the name in that context.  He must have been gaping pretty stupidly for the neighbour to repeat the question irritably before moving away in his quest of a more responsive audience! For the next half an hour the witless man had ignored his car and struggled to retrieve that single nugget from his memory bank - who was Sunita and why was he being questioned about her?  Since the thorough internal search did not yield any dividend, he had to seek enlightenment from known external founts of knowledge; without losing time he turned to the one he had close at home. He explained the context to his own wife and asked her, knowing vaguely that he was well on the way to making an ass of himself and providing fodder to his wife for the next millennium to tease him. When his wife gave him that especially odd look (which translated into `why are you being more of a mutt today than usual'?) and exclaimed that the neighbour was indeed looking for his spouse, my friend soundlessly dissolved into a heap of embarrassment.  Deservedly so.  And he avoided crossing the path of his neighbour or his wife for the next few weeks (he would  have gladly avoided his own wife too, if he knew how), until he was certain  they had forgotten the rather humiliating affair.  His wife, however, ruthlessly and unabashedly uses that episode as an `asthra' to ensure that the friend maintains the desired degree of malleability and ductility at all times.

You say this happens to everyone?  Probably.  I see brain's memory bank as a whole lot of pigeon holes into which things are archived.  And the holes are all brightly lit, so that one can identify the contents during searches.  What happens when there is a momentary power outage, impeding retrieval of the desired information at a given moment?  Well, one struggles and turns beet-red, as my friend did.  One does not have to be with one leg in the grave or within striking distance of amnesia or Alzheimers to fall a victim to this pestilence.  This happens to healthy people in their prime routinely, so nothing to worry about except the immediate discomfiture.  There may be a thousand unconvincing explanations as to why this happens, but that is neither here nor there.

The other day, I woke up in the morning with a bee in my bonnet, as it were.  There was an intrusive buzz, which I could not banish despite concerted efforts.  I ignored the distraction for a while, but during breakfast it dawned on me that the buzz was actually the tune of a Thamizh film song.  With some unifocal effort, I could decipher the contours of the tune but my success trailed off beyond that. I could not identify or recall anything else - not the lyrics, not the singer, not the movie, nothing else.  I went about my chores for half a day, (which included two seemingly important conference calls on earth-shaking subjects like Liquidity Risk, Capital Adequacy, Governance issues) like someone who had a distinctly alien substance stuck in his throat, neither to be swallowed nor to be spat out.  All the while, this intriguing tune was playing in my mind as if in a loop.  When someone was expressing a serious concern about the extant asset liability mismatch and liquidity problems , I was screwing up my face in agony, trying to remember at least a few words from the lyrics of the song, so that full identification became possible by googling.  Another participant in the call, seeing me overwrought, thought that I was being uncharacteristically and needlessly emotional about mundane corporate matters and wanted to pacify me, offering me a glass of cold water.  Lunch and tea came and went without any improvement in the situation and I was getting increasingly agitated by my failure to put the finger on the nub.  I shed all inhibition about my singing ability or the acute lack of it and actually hummed the tune over phone to a friend, who revels in Thamizh film songs.  Unfortunately, to him, my off-key humming sounded like twelve different songs and when I rejected all his suggestions,  he angrily retorted that I ought to provide a more decent clue.  My glum look during dinner prompted my worried wife to ask what was wrong. Unfortunately she was no pundit with Thamizh film songs, so I did not see even a remote chance of her solving the puzzle for me.  A little after 2 a.m next day, when I got up for water, just one sleepy sip proved so potent that I attained `realisation' - the song came to me in a flash.  `Vannam Konda Vennilave' from Sigaram, a 1991 movie.  I hastened to listen to the song on Youtube a couple of times and with a sense of elation, went back to sleep.  What I wonder about is why and how did that particular song worm into my consciousness like a `canker in the bud' as the bard put it and why the resolution finally appeared on the horizon at that specific juncture.  I will never find out, I guess.

The other phenomenon that always puzzles me is that one can vividly remember inane things from one's childhood (events like the wild fisticuffs after a not-so-neutral umpire sheepishly made a ridiculously late no-ball call off the last ball of the match, to artificially `set-up' victory for one team just to hurt his `enemy' who was the captain of the other team) whereas much more recent events and people involved therein have already been consigned to oblivion by the memory.  How do you explain the fact that I can recall the seating arrangement in my VI class from about 50 years ago, can reel off the names of all classmates while ticking off their faces in my memory, but when accosted by a colleague of recent vintage, I had to awkwardly wait for him to re-introduce himself so that I got his name.  It cannot be because we have lived with childhood memories longer - not all are rehashed frequently in later life.  Is it because childhood memories are far more pleasant for most of us and are therefore entrenched well for retrieval at will??

 May be the answer lies in what my senior colleague proved once with evidence.  He had bustled into the room and asked a bunch of us if we remembered what the bank's revenue numbers were in the year 1981-82 (this was in 1985) and most of us just shrugged him off instantly.  Who was interested in remembering a three-year-old statistic from the bank's performance, now that the bonus has been digested?  This senior colleague then recalled not only that but various other related numbers, much to our amusement.  A few days later, he again barged in and innocently asked a couple of us `do you know which two batsmen were at the crease when Wesley Hall began the last over in the tied test of 1960 between Australia and West Indies?'.  At least three people had the correct answer (Grout and Benaud).  The senior colleague cackled and pointed out that we could not remember revenue numbers from 3 years back , but the other vignette came back to us after 25 years.  His theory was that people remembered what they `wanted' to remember.  Is that it?  May be, but then, strangely even when you maniacally want to recall something, that something eludes you like a veritable eel.

You know what is funny about this whole post?  I have been chewing the cud on this for quite a bit of time and even had a title ready.  It is a phrase used to signify something that is nagging and elusive, remains stubbornly nebulous and perseveres in being unresolved - an answer you know but cannot just put your arms around.  The problem is I have got hit by `memory outage', cannot seem to recollect what that phrase is and have had to resort to a lesser alternative.  It is not one of those run-of-the-mill phrases but something very catchy, used rather selectively but has deserted me completely.   I have asked a few people but they just look at me as if I have grown horns overnight.  It is a pity I cannot give any other clue, because I have no idea.  Can you help??







   

A different kind of migration!

If the reader belongs to the generation which went to school in the 60s and 70s, he/she would recall all those clarion calls made by ancient emperors when their borders were assaulted and the army was short of brawn and bodies.  The king asked each household in the kingdom to volunteer at least one able-bodied man to the war-front.   People did realise that the king was being nice and that `volunteer' bit did not deceive them;  they understood  it was actually a camouflaged mandate to be obeyed by citizens without demur.   Those who were not propelled to comply by bubbling patriotic fervour, were coerced to do so by the stalking fear of humiliation and ostracism from their own folk and the society at large.  The King himself was not overly concerned about the exhortation being labelled `sexist' in calling only able-bodied 'men', because even if the female of the household was bigger in frame, she certainly preferred that the lesser body be always carted to face the poisoned arrows, boiling oil and inebriated elephants running amok.  And more often than not, the men plumped consciously and wisely for what they perceived as the lesser of two evils and were probably happier staring down the dangers of war, rather than live the life of the downtrodden at home, greatly disadvantaged by their own inferior physique! A situation my dear father describes pithily as `the shade of the street-side neem tree being infinitely better than the discomfort of home'!!

One wonders what the citizenry's response would be, if such a clarion call were to originate from our current-day government.  Don't get this scribe wrong, he does not even entertain the vaguest intention of willfully maligning his compatriots as lily-livered.  He is just being a pragmatist in taking cognizance of all the morbid fears and diurnal concerns associated with modern life smothering down the nobler, patriotic instincts somewhat.  While we are good at vociferously demonstrating our love for the country through tumultuous street corner jamborees and in cricket stadia, with pizzas and ice-creams for company, it seems unlikely that we will extend it any further towards to the war-front.  That is probably true of majority of the citizens, this author included.  The overwhelming decree would be that the armed forces are there, they are the specialists and they will get our full-throated support.

What is this leading to, you wonder?? Against this background, think of the hordes of young men and women, voluntarily moving to USA at the mere beckoning, muted-squeak of the IT industry, forget clarion calls.  As a prologue to that, youngsters go by the planeloads thither, to equip themselves with higher education.  It would not be an exaggeration to say that many middle class households in the southern states (may be some other states too) have contributed at least one body to this cause or are in the process of getting that distinction - ah, finally I am relieved I got to the point this somewhat stretched analogy was building up to!  Easy to discern why, though - no danger of combat or bodily harm; on the contrary, the allure of a good life and shining future and why not!  Parents may even feel inadequate if their family is not represented in the USA - a reaction not very different from that of the the able-bodied man who had not gone to war at the king's behest in the old days.  But the `migration' in the title does not refer to the movement of youngsters for livelihood reasons, but what inevitably happens in the aftermath! This is about their parents flitting to and fro, for well-earned holidays and more likely, to provide the familial support that the youngsters desperately need overseas.

In any meeting of friends and families in Bangalore or Chennai or Hyderabad, conversation is not complete without parents exchanging their travel plans to be with the children in New Jersey or Bay Area or some other US city.  The party of the first part (Parents A) gleefully boasting of their forthcoming visit to the Bay Area in the summer months to the party of the second part (Parents B), in all probability means that retired parents are visiting, at a time of their own choice - summer, children who do not have the baggage of their own families to carry.  In response, the party of the second part mumbling something grudgingly about going to Chicago in November/December could mean only one thing -- that their married son or daughter had erred grievously in terms of timing the arrival of their next baby (who will not obviously tolerate the idea of being born outside of the US of A)  in the height of winter or some such similar unavoidable situation.   A typical Madrasi bone-structure (referring only to that which has truly thrived on the humidity and heat of the area for a few decades, has known no other clime and therefore is acutely allergic to anything alien) crackles and rebels at the very thought of being confronted by the icy cold winds of Lake Michigan.  Also, the concept of adding one or more layers of woolen clothing is anathema to a body, which is adept at shedding unwanted layers of clothing with alacrity.  Therefore, if  the party of the second part seems blatantly unhappy, even disconsolate in private, at the thought of having to visit USA in November/December, that indicates it is singularly bereft of options.  It is entirely another matter that what begins as enjoyable summer outings for the party of the first part could rapidly, meaning in a few years, degenerate into the nightmarish trips at inopportune times like the one the party of the second part is now faced with.  This transformation occurs expeditiously when the grown-up-kid in USA decides to get hitched, especially if the 'hitchee' is another kid from the same part of the world, in pretty much similar personal and professional situation as the 'hitcher'!!

For the parents, a trip to US always requires immense and careful psychological tuning, since it results in a temporary but significant life-style change; especially if the SOS arrives at an inconvenient time.  A lack of mental adjustment in the parents is made manifest in the way they diffidently approach the trip and stay there. When one is at the Chennai or Bangalore airport, waiting for the flight to New York or Chicago or elsewhere in the US, one cannot but marvel at the seasonal migration of older people to the US from this part of the world.  The stoic faces of the grey haired uncles and aunts usually give away very little about their state of mind. Some people just breeze through the journey and have a ball on the other side of the globe too.  But for many others, simple folks who have not travelled outside India much or have no craving for such expeditions, it is almost like they are waiting to be brutally launched into deep space without any protection or support. The glazed look screams that all is not well!  The 24-hour rigour of being boxed in an economy seat is sheer torture for most people.  Especially if some sensitive, arthritic limb also hears the pre-boarding announcements and commences those familiar but disconcerting, cracking noises in protest.  The anxiety of being deprived of the essence of life, curd rice, for the duration of the journey and the possibility of having to look at a neighbour tearing his chicken or fish with a fork, exacerbate the discomfort multi-fold for the staunch vegetarian.  If inability to sleep at home in the horizontal position was a minor bother for some, being vertical and sleepless during the journey becomes a major hazard.   If it is an auntie travelling alone, because the spineless uncle cried off and she happens to be parked next to a foreigner on board, the auntie's face remains furrowed into a crease and blanched for most of the journey - as if she has a ghost for company!  There is general trepidation whenever the foreigner tries communicating anything and the deer-in-the-headlights kind of reaction of the lady makes the former beat a hasty retreat, lest he is accused of trying something sinister.

The transit stop en route entails a veritable quest for the holy grail for some inasmuch as the routine chore of identifying the correct gate and flight in a German or French airport assumes gargantuan proportions. For no reason at all, it becomes an exercise of  repeated querying every second step without a clear understanding of the `faulty' pronunciation when the Europeans respond.  Visions of  the whole airport set up conspiring to detain them at the transit stop with some ulterior motive are conjured and the outcome is many more panic buttons are pressed and red lights flash for some time! Add to this, the prospect of facing the biometric ordeal at Immigration after a long wait, saving precious Paruppu Podi from being dumped by the suspicious customs guys with a lucid explanation, the loneliness of living without familiar neighbours, restricted mobility because of the dependency on someone else for movement, inability to go out and wander about in the neighbourhood as is one's wont - the list is unending, for some.

As my wife says every time we meet such parents when we travel, if, despite all this hardship, parents keep winging out to help their kids in the US during times of childbirth, illness, kids' own travels and all other assorted reasons, they deserve kudos for that.  That is the hallmark of that generation, generally speaking I guess - doing this for their children, despite their own apprehensions.  That is why this kind of migratory behaviour is special.  Birds and animals migrate because their current habitation cannot support them any longer with food or water or whatever. But this set of people migrate not necessarily always for fun or survival, but very often against their own volition because their current habitation is probably the best suited for them and they are forced to leave something they love - for the sake of others!!  I only wish they would learn to enjoy such trips.  And the hope is that the youngsters are gracious enough to do as much and more for their parents when the time comes and the need arises.  Actually, I know many who do.  Indeed, that is gratifying!!