Remember Remember the 5th of November

For me, its been an emotionally nerve wracking week. For five days now, I've held this rant inside me and that's something what I call, a self imposed form of mental constipation. I know, its kind of a grotesque start. But well, I'd have to say its much less of a bullshit story than that by the media and the so called "social scientists", whining about India's Mars Orbiter Mission (MOM).

At a personal level, I've held astronomy close to my heart from the time I was a child. In fact I still prize the "Earth, space and the universe" paperback quiz books my mother bought me a long time ago. I believe it was only natural to feel a very real sense of crackling excitement to have heard ISRO's ambitious plans and finally, to have seen PSLV-XL take India's maiden interplanetary satellite into space. But then of course happiness is an evanescent thing. That vicious question repeated yet again; and again and again. "Is India really justified on spending so much ?" 

I am not really interested in specifying "spending on what" because as a matter of fact, to the assailants, if I may take the liberty of calling them so, it does not matter. Not one bit! As long as the BBC can show a photograph of a rag picking girl from a garbage dump, any expenditure that is not directly linked to feeding a destitute is unethical. I cannot agree enough that a large number of people in India live in ruthless poverty. I cannot stress enough that empathy and action from the state and from each citizen towards such grossly underprivileged people is of paramount importance. But it needs to be understood- India is not merely a monochromatic, painfully romantic BBC photograph.

And what numbers are we talking about..?! Taking into account the complexity of such a mission, I think the project is quite literally, a complete bargain. At a cost of INR  450Cr (c. USD 73 million)  the mission is a meager 0.02% of India's 2013 budget. An interesting comparison would be an Indian family hatchback which takes roughly the same amount to develop. Speaking of cars, a friend of mine posted this a few days back for the mileage obsessed Indian: "The orbiter is slated to travel a distance of roughly 780 million km on its journey to Mars which works out to be less than 7 Rs/km." That is in fact cheaper than a god damn auto rickshaw in Bangalore although I think actually anything is cheaper than an auto ride in Bangalore. Even if you smoked a few less cigarettes during the course of the project, you would have contributed to a better probably a little more useful form of fire and smoke. Apart from the fact that it is genuinely low-cost, I wonder the critics know how much space missions generally cost. The Curiosity rover project was developed at a cost of $2 billion. That's twice the amount of India's entire annual budget on space research. Agreed, the size of the project is much smaller. But even on a comparable project, the US would spend close to ten times of what ISRO has managed to do it in. And given the extremely tight schedule of 15 months, its a no brainer that the effort is by any yardstick, a commendable one.

Here's another thing that really baffled me. This tweet aired on a BBC telecast said, "I think they do not want our aid money anymore" Unfortunately, that's the bane that follows the position and title of being a fast growing yet 'developing' nation. From personal experience, for many Europeans, India is typically a place with a lot of slums and a lot of call centers - both of which, take away tax-payer money in the form of aid and take away jobs in the form of back office services. The tweet reflects a very human tendency to prescribe to a rather sanctimonious ideology of relegating beneficiaries to servile yes men. In an interesting turn of events nonetheless, India has pledged to contribute $10b to Europe's aid as a part of the IMF 'firewall' against further economic crises. I'm not too sure India is really telling the IMF or beneficiary  countries what to do or not to do with their own tax payers' money and I think the gesture needs to be mutual. And speaking of foreign aid by the way, India is the largest donor towards polio eradication, having contributed a total sum on $2 billion. This is from a WHO report - Not Indian propaganda. Aid is charity, a sign of solidarity and most of all the epitome of benevolent human relationship. Its never a license to dictate.

For the record, detractors are not just outside. There is a large breed of home grown critics as well. For obvious reasons, they are the ones that irk me the most. First of all allow me to say this - "Get a life !" Having said that, allow me also to give you reasons so as to why they should get a life. The primary objection is very closely linked to expenses. About expenses, noted journalist and social activist Praful Bidwai, for example, is of the opinion, "Completely disproportionate in quantity". He says that while a multitude is living in poverty, spending 450Cr on a space mission is totally disreputable. Now, lets take some stats into account. India, in 2013-14 will spend Rs. 27250Cr on the Sarva Siksha Abhiyaan alone, Rs 37330Cr on Family Welfare, Rs. 33000Cr on Rural employment and a whopping Rs 125,000Cr (estimated) on the Food Security Bill. By any standards, these are really, really large numbers. For a moment, I'd have to agree with Mr. Bidwai that the expense on the MOM is disproportionate, albeit only in the diminutiveness of its financial backing.  So the argument that India doesn't have its priorities sorted out with regard to social welfare begs to be thrown out of the window. And for God's sake, Mumbai alone spent 600 crores on crackers on Diwali night - by the way some of which were rockets too. Instead of pinning the blame on a handful of scientists and engineers who've made the most out of the bare minimum offered, probably people such as Mr. Bidwai may better serve the nation using their journalistic skills and 'activist' clout to help figure out where these enormous funds go.

But then of course, you might ask, what's the point of it all? Why do it in the first place? Let me start with the less important financial part. From Aryabhata to Mangalyaan, there have been 72 Indian satellites sent into space. When Aryabhata was launched in 1975 we were completely dependent on the Russians and the Europeans with 60% of the first 25 satellites being put into orbit by a foreign launch vehicle. Today that figure is down to 16%. In fact, India launches satellites for developed nations such as Japan, Israel, Germany, France among others. To be exact with figures, ISRO has helped launch a total of 35 such satellites. With the cost of launching a satellite being anywhere between 50 and 400 million USD, I can't comprehend how someone is unable to see the savings and the potential income ISRO's missions entail. And by the way who are these people employed at ISRO? Indians. Who builds most of the infrastructure? Indian companies. That's home grown employment from home grown revenue generating work. Last time I checked, that's the most robust way to a society's economic evolution. Did I miss a meeting..? Antrix, ISRO's marketing wing reported a net income of 1.5 billion Indian rupees in 2008. Do I need to say more on how space exploration is profitable.. or that if it is of any use at all ?!!

So much for the present and the future. Take a peek into the past too. Cyclone Paradeep made landfall on the shores of Orissa on 28 October, 1999. By the time the storm had subsided, over 10,000 people had lost their lives. Our main handicap was the lack of advanced remote sensing satellites and Doppler radars. In stark contrast, Cyclone Phailin's death toll was 45. Are you listening ? 45..! Among other things, a direct result of investment in satellite technology. Can you put a price tag on the expenditure on technologies such as these that have helped save countless lives..? One should probably google the Cospas Sarsat system to know how space technology has direct impact on lives here- close to the ground. And where do you think GPS and your SatNav comes from? And what about national pride..? Where did that go..? Has it come to mean nothing! Does Rabindranath Tagore's Nobel prize for literature have no meaning because it has no substantial economic merit. Does the fact that one can't put to use the contents of Gitanjali onto an assembly line and churn out low quality so called 'blockbuster' bollywood movies make it irrelevant to national pride.

All this so vividly brings Oscar Wilde to mind who defined so accurately saying, "A cynic is a person who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing." No country has succeeded on its maiden attempt to Mars, more than half of all Mars missions have failed. Can one not foresee the challenge, the immense national pride if we are to nail it or even the courage to have attempted something as audacious as this? I hope we understand the role this will play on the young minds to whom the older generation will bequeath the role of carrying India's technology and status to greater heights. Somewhere in the last 10 years, an ever growing number of young Indian engineers have gone from I want to join NASA to I want to work for ISRO. I'm not convinced the critics actually appreciate the gravity of a shift or even the beginning of such a shift that's taking hold of India's enormous youth. I so wish they could stand from my viewpoint and watch the vista - a view that has infinite hope, boisterous energy, a calm assured confidence and deep down inside, a sense of innocent pride.

And hey, the ISRO guys seem to have a decent sense of humor too. Especially with regard to the subtlety in timing. So, the title of this piece in their honor.

In the 'Fairness' of things

Somewhere in the vicinity of 10pm.

Barkha Dutt speaks about today’s cabinet reshuffle as she approaches a break. “Stay tuned! When we come back... blah blah black sheep”

Commercial: “…New Nivea whitening deodorant for fairer underarms!”

Come again…  Fairer what..!? “New Nivea Whitening DEODORANT FOR FAIRER UNDERARMS”

Instant Thought (IT) 1: Think of Salma Hayek or Capt. Niobe, using the New Nivea Whitening Deodorant For Fairer Underarms ( from hereon referred as NWDFFU).

IT 2: How do you ask for this ‘product’ at the store... “Arrey, woh fair underarms wala deo dena(or deejiye)!” Like, you know, for places where you don’t really have something like a Big Bazaar and the gali wala cosmetic store called Ladies Paradise is the only place where you get this stuff. Interesting people might as well call it the Ladies Parasite.

IT3: This is awesome shit!!

I’m mean, seriously. Fairer underarms! That’s the new thing after the natural nikhaar!? Its hard to believe. So... ahh…well… I went on to go check it out. No. Online. By no means a minor feat… you know, to lurk around a website that is completely pink; filled with hearts and stars and small cute dogs and designer nail polish( ? what the hell is that) - www.makeupalley.com Those interested can visit. Surprisingly, there is a considerable amount of statistical data available on the website. NWDFFU is not doing too well with a lowly 2.7 lipsticks out of a max 5. And I am not bloody kiddin' you. This is too just too silly to make up; this one comments says, “…As for the whitening, I did see a little, but not enough…” Not enough..!!?  What do you mean “not enough”. Bleach yourself lady and hope you shine like a fluorescent bulb. I mean.. i don't get it.. of all the things, you would want to brag about your fair underarm..?! Really?

Enough crap. Truth be told, I never really pictured Colonial hangover get this far. Never. I’m dark; but then I’m a bloke and for some(& that) reason I’m not really expected to compete in the marriage market. (Alas!) Okay some competition in the dating market. But what the hell... this is absurd! Shameful; not to mention. In this part of the world you could ridicule someone calling her dark.  I mean, ‘Ja Kalmoohi’ is just not the same as ‘Ja Chudail (Also a Delly Belly song now)’. NWDFFU is a surprising new product but in many ways not surprising in the entirety of the way our society thinks. Sad...! And that is to say the least. Six and half decades have not been enough to clean up the Gori mem psyche. I’m but a nobody to impose my ideas. But ‘Fair is beautiful and dark is not’ That’s an idea I have a problem with. I do not want to start with Halle Berry, Beyonce, Nandita  Das and some of my own dusky friends who are just as lovely as women get.  This whitening thing, quite frankly, freaks me out. 

These are some possibilities for the future... I don't rule out anything now.

New Complan with fairness additives.

Gillette shaving gel, advanced bleach formula.

L’Oreal fairness lipstick- because you’re worth it.

Shalimar Basmati – Now genetically modified for fairer Indian Skin.

Who knows! Some day Dell will come up with an India special version of its laptops with lower radiation, lower brightness, lower whatever LCDs for reduced skin tanning for the obtuse fairness obsessed Indian market.

Dark is good. Dark is awesome. Most importantly.. its YOU that are awesome. 

Women, Get over it.

More importantly: Men, Get over it too.

Did I mention ba ba BLACK sheep anywhere? Oh..! The Cabinet reshuffle..damn.. chuck it now.. next time. I feel so totally stoned by stupidity. 

Have a nice day. Outdoors.

Mrs. Dalloway - Let it sink in.

Given my credentials of not having attempted a single review in my life, I think a ‘Mrs. Dalloway review’ is almost at the edge of travesty. To be frank, I believe there may be very few among us, who could

actually do justice to a book as compelling a Mrs. Dalloway.

I was drawn to the book following the film, ‘The Hours’ based on Michael Cunningham’s novel by the same name and Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. While The Hours (film) left me shell shocked and jolted to the core by its sheer brilliance of screenplay and acting prowess; Mrs. Dalloway left me speechless, literally. I feel so utterly handicapped over words and ideas to describe it, let alone critique it. This is but a very humble attempt or perhaps even a tribute to a great book by a greater writer.

First and foremost, you need to forget any and every preconception you have about how to write or read a novel before you embark upon the Virginia reading experience. Woolf does not comply or confine herself to the structures of chapters or volumes. No chapter, no volume in the entire book. Woolf does not feel the necessity of a central plot to bring forth the very core of our emotions. She does not feel also, that it is so awfully necessary to terminate sentences with a period because she wants one to flow into the other. She therefore, is undoubtedly, a maestro at the usage of the semicolon. If you ever lecture to a class full of English literature students and wanted to cite an example of the ‘stream-of-consciousness’ style; Mrs. Dalloway is the piece.

Woolf accomplishes, with almost eerie and spectral freedom, movement in and out of the heads of her characters. She meanders (for that could be the only possible word) through Clarissa’s (Dalloway) thoughts about a black car with royalty inside, Sally, ‘her’ Elizabeth; husband Richard, her lover of yore Peter, her parties, her ideas of life and freedom and inexorably … Septimus. Septimus, is a character that went on to become my personal favourite due to the absolute lucidity with which Woolf portrays the horrors of war through a man ripped apart by voices, daydreams, hallucinations and finally death. But even death is put forward in such sobriety that it shouts out what were but hidden words of Septimus. Virginia’s characters in the book are never larger than life. All placed rigidly in the post World War I era, each having their own unique, queer, yet ‘real’ niceties, opinions and prejudices of the English elite society to which they belong.

In ways more than one, it is a work on social issues through inner sentiment. It is a work on mental trauma, its obscurity and stigmatization. It is also, to a large extent a work to the cause of feminism. It is also a work on death, its various forms, its precursors and consequences. Mrs. Dalloway is not your regular novel to be read once and put back to the shelf. It demands re-reading; because the more you read, the more you realize what you missed out. It glues you and you live with its words.

Woolf once quoted, “A good essay must have this permanent quality about it; it must draw its curtain round us, but it must be a curtain that shuts us in not out.”

This is an excerpt from the book.

“Death was defiance. Death was an attempt to communicate; people feeling the impossibility of reaching the centre which, mystically, evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone. There was an embrace in death.”

I think she proves her point.

Love and Hate

I’m writing this for one: not to forget that I can/ I do write some spiteful stuff. And secondly, to vent out this sense of limitless frustration credited to a harrowing time I have had off late. Some related, some not. My head is such a storm its probably stupid to bind it in words. Stuffed. Stifled. Enraged. Bogged. My head is such a storm with so much of random annoyance that I can’t seem to figure out a structure to this piece that would even start to make some sense; So much that you don’t want me to get started. Or maybe you do, because you all, like half a billion other people in this country, me included, put up with so much of ridiculous shit everyday with no accountability or justification or even a basic wakefulness of shame on the part of the ones we rely on: Government, Brethren or Ourselves.

1. Recent Rambling

The Bangalore Metropolitan Transport Corp makes roughly 1.5 rupees as profit for every kilometer it runs which I hardly need to tell (unless you are a complete imbecile), is an awful lot of money. I pay 20 rupees up from my flat to my office and 20 rupees back. It’s a distance just over 8 kilometers at the other end of which I reach my office at 9. Strikingly, I would now have been one and a half hours in traffic, jostling human beings, human-like beings and outright devils, all damned to a fate similar to mine. I deserve better. Enough said..? No! I stand; Almost all the while, almost all the days. I can’t hand over a ten rupee note to pay the bus conductor five bucks. Lest, Lo and behold: the over lord yells, snarls, grins, swears, (farts?) among other gestures repeating the phrase ‘change daena boss’ at least three times to reemphasize his authority and my stature as a monetary retard. All this in return to the crores and crores of rupees we contribute to the exchequer. All this in return to a requirement of paying 20% more tax if you don’t possess a PAN card! Very particular don’t you think. Inflation, Taxes, looting auto-rickshaws with meters as decorations, bribes: Nothing ever seems to get the constructions to finish, the dust to settle, the crowd to diminish, spay the littering stray dogs, calm reckless raging drivers, stop the air to literally stink from the open drains, stop every single day from being a maddening adventure to keep oneself in one piece. And I’m still talking about one of the most ‘cosmopolitan’ cities in the country. How do we manage to put up with all this? Wrong question. Why? Be extra cautious; you might just land up in shit here, in every sense of the word. Not trying to paint macabre images into your head, giving you an objective view on reality; if you didn’t notice you know.

2. Religion, Region and the Rest

I don’t hate India. I’ve been a passionate Indian all my life. I wear blue for an India match: hockey, badminton or cricket. I cheer for Force India, even though there is so little Indian about it except VMallya & NarainK, debated and sometimes even fought with foreign nationals, mostly white guys (no offence) for my national pride. I’ve been a big ass lover of India. I will remain so because I choose so. A bit too passionate sometimes. Although even in a secular country like ours, you sometimes need to wear your patriotism on your sleeve if you are not a Hindu. No No! Don’t give me that! No communal jargon here. I know better ‘coz I’ve been asked once to address my problems to Bill Clinton. I know better ‘coz my parents have been notified, more than once, that their Hindi sucks because well, they are Christian. Yes! To clarify however, both of them are Keralites, or popularly/derogatorily Mallus. So as per me, they can speak much better Hindi than most of Hindi speaking India can speak Pashto, Cantonese or Bulgarian. Dodge this: “Teri Englisss toh achi hogi… tu Christian hai na !” I mean, where do I start to explain things to someone who starts a dialogue with a statement like that? With a punch to the nose?!

I’m a rather dark skinned; malayali Christian who’s lived almost his entire first eighteen years in Varanasi; home to a so called ‘fairer skinned’; demographically Hindu and linguistically Hindi dominated ancient civilization. So word for word, I’m a fairly rare breed, having quite some hands on experience on the famed Indian diversity. The great melting pot of history, today I feel, is boiling to the brink. We have seventeen languages written on every Indian currency note which I once proudly explained to a German who said Germany was an extremely diverse nation. What is pride in an alien land is the source of political plundering back home. Demand for as many as 10 new states presently exist: so much so, one could make a famous, historic, founding father kinda political career out of a regionalist agenda: I don’t even want to get started with religion. I wonder how long it will take them to pillage this nation over region and religion; I hope it takes a wild blue yonder in eternity. But why point fingers at the ones who are always pointed at. We ourselves are no mean replicas of the devil himself. ‘Saala madrasi’, ‘jahil bihari’, ‘UP wale bhaiyya’, ‘a complete behenji’, ‘illad hi rahega’ are perhaps a few examples of a ‘tolerant, civil India’. Although proud of its better faces, it’s a dirty diversity in some ways, which in no measure rises above the level of racism over which the western world is so brutally patronized. In a society which still conforms to castes, religious stereotypes and even untouchabilty, we carry out the worst form of racism. Yeah, I heard you, “Common, no untouchability anymore. At least among educated”. Advice: Google ‘Doms of Banares’ and try speaking to one if you ever get a chance to. It will change your life. No one of the majority of India, dead or alive, can do without him, but no one will treat him human.

I have so much more to stab the rosy picture with. Cinema, respect for history-tradition, sports, language, the Indian typecast, friendship, love, intimacy. I will sometime, when I am overwhelmed again with a fit of rage for a nation I so love.

Bangalore

3March, 2011

Au Revoir TechTatva2010

Its been five days of chaotic satisfaction. At least to me on a personal level it marks the zenith of the months of hard work and the sleepless nights of which most among us have now lost count (ref. TextTatva:D ). A bunch of days that would never be forgotten for each one heralded a new facet of the tremendous variety of ideas, discussions, fights and debates life could throw at you. You think you are brilliant and insurmountable with all the meticulous planning but then well all I can remember is what Roddick spoke about Federer: “I threw the kitchen sink at him but he went to the bathroom and got his tub.”

Its been a roller coaster ride for each one of us involved with this li’l fest of ours that has come to mean so much to so many. In the work list that filled the white board (and some great art work too), in the heap of entwined LAN cables, in all the missing pen drives, in the ‘abe printer nai chal raha $@@|#’ moments and some simple plain blond moments too; the ever increasing entropy never seemed more beautifully orchestrated.

Its nostalgia now, that reigns my mind, although its not even one complete day since I last said to myself, “Chal yaar sab ho gaya”. Its the hangover of contentment perhaps, both literal and figurative. To all who have broken their backs and endured the running; to all who sweltered in the sun and drenched in the rains; to all who did everything they could have to make TechTatva2010 and TEDxManipal what it was, this is one BIG BIG thank you, as heartfelt as it can get. Hope you all had fun.

That’s all for this edition. Let TechTatva2011 rock more than ever..!! All the best.

! ! NONE HOLIER THAN THOU ! !

A tribute to perhaps the most beautiful urban sunset i have had the fortune to witness..!! Anything said would be an understatement.

With my gaze transfixed over the western sky... as the golden ball of fire, in its now diminished might slowly drowns into the horizon, nature reveals its painter within. It does not speak in words, but through elysian colours that have no rivals. Spread across the blue oceans above, the foam of clouds, with tassels of mauve and hues of peach; I cannot but feel, like a child - bedazzled by a carnival, lit up in his most fancied lights. A carnival though, so solemn, it makes him travel, and grow in thought; not of imaginary figments but in the art of an artist beyond compare.

The Chirping birds, the gentle echoing breeze through concrete settlements of lesser beings and the rustling leaves... all in a mellifluous harmony of sounds, resounding encomium to the greatest of them all. I feel everything around my being is celebrating its existence. Acknowledging its innate integrity with the universe; and thereby in some inexplicable way have intoxicated my self into a reality as blissful as paradise.

With each passing minute, I feel more and more dissolved its brilliance and enraptured by its benevolent presence. A gait so commanding of respect that it would be a sin not to notice such splendor. Sitting by the window, belittled and ecstatic, my words seem so unjust to the red rays of light that have traversed the vast expanses of space and time to illuminate a solitary eye into happiness and inspire a hand so unworthy. It has been a moment worth a million lives and a sight beyond expression. An evening that shall remain with me and a memory that will die only in the oblivion of my grave.

Nature ... Take a Bow..!!

FATE

I almost thought i may not blog again. Fate compelled me. I hate fate. I like blog-ging.

iLike iLike.

Good Good..!

Let us say and sing, ‘Praise be to you, Oh Fate’

For all that you are: Mighty, Cruel and the ever so Great.

We, litters of the human creed: slaves of a greater plan

Stare and stand - oh you lesser sons of Misery’s clan.

What must I fight…? Whom shall I wrong…?

To the side of an unknown master I must belong…!

Shall I blame providence, fortune or an obscure destiny?

For what good is it, if doomed forever is my silent mutiny?

Tied and tamed in forged shackles of helpless Rage

Joys of the soul are but a generous Fate’s daily wage.

They say, our spirits are free: of bound and of boundary

But indeed, we shall laugh at a world stooped in vicious melancholy.