Before I start this blog, I would like to state that I consider myself an agnostic – I am not religious at all. I am also impartial in the great Indian Caste System Debate; you know, the one where many people insist that certain castes are “backward” and a few are “forward”. I also like to think myself as colour-blind, when it comes to judging people on the basis of the colour of their skin. I also believe that women are as capable and intelligent as men, if not more so. The only way I categorize myself is by stating that I am an Indian.
Unfortunately, not enough voters in rural India appear to think so. This is because our politicians insist on dividing people on many different criteria. The two main criteria for dividing Indians are caste and religion. So we have politicians who tell us that they hate Brahmins, because they are secular. We have politicians telling us that we should tolerate terrorism because we are secular. We have politicians telling us we should stop using computers and discard the English language; because use of the English language means that we are somehow “inferior” and have a colonial mindset. These last statements come from Mulayam Singh Yadav, India’s own answer to Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe. Yadav has much in common with the infamous Mugabe, who is a Robin Hood in reverse – he steals from the nation and makes himself rich.
Like Mugabe, Yadav also believes that everything in India that has gone wrong is because of “progressive forces”. The English language? It cannot be good, because it is a colonial hangover. All of us must communicate only in Bhojpuri Hindi, for the true glory of Indian civilization to return. Never mind the fact that English is the only truly common language that binds the entire nation. Never mind that English is the language of business, and is the main reason that India’s GDP has surged so remarkably in the last few years in a globalized economy. Never mind that Mulayam Singh Yadav’s own sons were educated in Lucknow’s finest English-medium schools and did their college education in Australia (where the last time I checked, they speak English and not Hindi).
Computers? Never mind that India’s software service providers are now among the best in the world. Customers the world over have heard and often worked with Infosys, Wipro and Tata Consultancy Services. Indians make good software engineers and millions of jobs in the information technology sector have given rise to a new breed of confident, educated, urban middle-class Indian; professionals who live and work all over the world. India’s software services are the envy of the world. But not for Mulayam Singh. He believes that the use of computers must be banned, because they create unemployment. He has no scientific basis for this statement, but who cares? Computers and the Internet are the libraries of the 21st century. And in Mulayam’s rulebook, education itself is a bad thing (except for his own family of course). His vision of India is one where all Indians are poor, illiterate, live in mud huts, commute in bullock carts and practice subsistence farming. All Indians except for him and his family of course. Everybody and everything must be reduced to the lowest common denominator. This is Mulayam Singh Yadav’s version of socialism.
His vision of “secularism” is equally frightening. It means doing vote-bank mathematics, and cynically pitting the so-called Other Backward Castes (OBCs) and Muslims against everybody else. Luckily, neither the OBCs nor the Muslims in Uttar Pradesh (India’s most populous state) bought his vision of “secularism” the last time assembly elections were held there two years ago. Mulayam Singh Yadav’s Samajwadi Party was wiped out. Like all Indians irrespective of caste, colour and creed, Muslims and OBCs also want jobs, education for their children, security and a shot at a decent life.
Secularism as it is defined in India, is used to divide, not unite. The definition of secularism means that all people are treated equal in the eyes of the law, irrespective of race, religion, gender or colour. Unfortunately, in India, secularism is used as a weapon to confer special status on groups of people in return for votes. This brand of secularism has been practiced by all our political parties, irrespective of ideology. It has caused a great deal of damage to the social fabric of India and it is time to say “Enough”.
Is it possible that the hundreds of millions of the rural poor in India’s hinterland are slowly waking up and realizing that they have been cheated time and again since independence with empty promises? Are they realizing that they have been betrayed time and again by the so-called “secular forces” they have voted into power? Will these millions finally stop voting on the basis of caste and religion, and vote based on good governance instead? Will we see a time in the next twenty years when politicians will have to work hard to actually deliver education, jobs, healthcare and security to the hundreds of millions who constitute India’s poor, instead of merely parroting that they represent secular forces, as if this was some sort of badge of honour?
I hope so. Until then, I hope that you, the educated, urban voter take this opportunity to hold your local politician accountable for good governance and not be fooled by him or her saying that they represent “sakoolar phorsej”.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Football: The Great Leveller
Footballing legend Pele once called soccer the “beautiful game”. He didn’t just mean that football was a pleasure to play and watch. He also meant that football, unique among all sports, has the ability to unite people across the world, irrespective of language, race, gender or culture.
I understood what Pele meant at a soccer game recently, here in Vancouver. The wife’s office organized a round-robin football tournament, and all the games were played yesterday afternoon. The wife, who was nominated to play for one of the teams, was a little nervous. She had never played soccer before. She ended up enjoying herself a great deal.
I went to the matches, as a spectator and cheerleader. It was amazing to see people from different races and cultures, ethnic and linguistic backgrounds, playing for the love of the game. There were older British bosses chasing and trying to keep up with their younger, nimbler Chinese and Italian subordinates. There were Indians yelling out encouragements in Hindi, and Chinese exhorting their colleagues in Mandarin. A Chinese lady who had never played the game before, scored a goal. It was hard to tell who was more ecstatic about her goal – the lady herself, or the hundred-odd office colleagues who roared their approval.
For a couple of hours, everybody forgot about office politics and (dare I say it), religious, ethnic and cultural prejudices. None of it mattered. When your teammate scored, you cheered just as loudly for him if he was German as you would if he had been Indian or Russian. There were some very good players, and there were many who had never played before. That didn’t matter either. The better players passed the ball to their inexperienced colleagues. The objective was to ensure that everyone had a good time. Even the wife came close to scoring a goal! Like with most things she does in life, she gave it everything she had. She now wants to join a local league and play every weekend!
Unfortunately, since I do not work for the wife’s office, I was ineligible to participate. That did not prevent me from giving what I thought were insightful inputs into the game! You will never find a more incisive armchair critic than Your Truly!
After the game, everybody went to the local pub down the road, to soothe thirsty throats with a couple of cold beers and reminisce about the game before going home.
Football is a game that is truly egalitarian. Anybody can play it. It does not require any equipment or training, it is inexpensive, and it is beyond class, colour or creed. In many parts of the world, including Brazil, it is a ticket out of poverty.
I am glad I went to the game. I finally understood what Pele meant. Football will teach you how to respect and admire people based on their talent, enthusiasm and ability, irrespective of the colour of their skin, nationality or gender. Football will also teach you to respect your fellow players. It will teach you how to be a fierce yet respectful competitor. It will teach you to communicate in a universal language. It will teach you the value of teamwork and collaboration, and how to contribute to an overall objective that is bigger than yourself or any single individual. Aren’t these the greatest lessons life can teach a person?
Football is the great leveller in life. If you love football, you will never walk alone.
I understood what Pele meant at a soccer game recently, here in Vancouver. The wife’s office organized a round-robin football tournament, and all the games were played yesterday afternoon. The wife, who was nominated to play for one of the teams, was a little nervous. She had never played soccer before. She ended up enjoying herself a great deal.
I went to the matches, as a spectator and cheerleader. It was amazing to see people from different races and cultures, ethnic and linguistic backgrounds, playing for the love of the game. There were older British bosses chasing and trying to keep up with their younger, nimbler Chinese and Italian subordinates. There were Indians yelling out encouragements in Hindi, and Chinese exhorting their colleagues in Mandarin. A Chinese lady who had never played the game before, scored a goal. It was hard to tell who was more ecstatic about her goal – the lady herself, or the hundred-odd office colleagues who roared their approval.
For a couple of hours, everybody forgot about office politics and (dare I say it), religious, ethnic and cultural prejudices. None of it mattered. When your teammate scored, you cheered just as loudly for him if he was German as you would if he had been Indian or Russian. There were some very good players, and there were many who had never played before. That didn’t matter either. The better players passed the ball to their inexperienced colleagues. The objective was to ensure that everyone had a good time. Even the wife came close to scoring a goal! Like with most things she does in life, she gave it everything she had. She now wants to join a local league and play every weekend!
Unfortunately, since I do not work for the wife’s office, I was ineligible to participate. That did not prevent me from giving what I thought were insightful inputs into the game! You will never find a more incisive armchair critic than Your Truly!
After the game, everybody went to the local pub down the road, to soothe thirsty throats with a couple of cold beers and reminisce about the game before going home.
Football is a game that is truly egalitarian. Anybody can play it. It does not require any equipment or training, it is inexpensive, and it is beyond class, colour or creed. In many parts of the world, including Brazil, it is a ticket out of poverty.
I am glad I went to the game. I finally understood what Pele meant. Football will teach you how to respect and admire people based on their talent, enthusiasm and ability, irrespective of the colour of their skin, nationality or gender. Football will also teach you to respect your fellow players. It will teach you how to be a fierce yet respectful competitor. It will teach you to communicate in a universal language. It will teach you the value of teamwork and collaboration, and how to contribute to an overall objective that is bigger than yourself or any single individual. Aren’t these the greatest lessons life can teach a person?
Football is the great leveller in life. If you love football, you will never walk alone.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Observations: The Happiest Person I Ever Saw
The last few days have been lovely and sunny here in Vancouver. The cherry blossom trees are just beginning to well, blossom, and it feels so good to get out in the sun, and walk through a temperate rainforest that is just beginning to visibly come to life. Days like these make me happy. So I thought I should write a blog about happiness. No, this is not a blog about the secret to universal happiness. I am not qualified to write about that, and I do not think that such a state exists. Different things make different people happy. Happiness means different things to different people. I cannot reveal the secret of happiness, because I do not know it. I can only report on happiness when I see it.
So who is the happiest person I have ever seen? I would like to have said “happiest man I ever met”, but I did not meet him. However, I did see him, last November in the Indian mountain temple town of Rishikesh.
My wife and I were wandering through an area of Rishikesh called “Muni Ki Reti” (the Hermit’s Sands). This is the place where the fast-flowing Ganges River emerges from the high Himalayas and meets the vast plains of Northern India. “Muni Ki Reti” is a sandy beach, which overlooks the swift Ganges River and the bustling town of Rishikesh beyond. It was a cool sunny day, and across the river in the distance, the temple bells were tinkling. There weren’t too many people walking around “Muni Ki Reti” apart from us, a few white-water rafters in the distance and an assortment of dazed backpackers looking for nirvana. Their search seemed to be going nowhere.
Suddenly in the distance, by the riverbed, I saw a lone “sadhu” (hermit) who was relaxing on his “charpoy” (a wooden cot bound together with rope). It was obvious that he lived on that riverbank. His sole possessions were his “charpoy”, a couple of tin drums that contained his meagre personal belongings, a stove, and a battered old transistor radio that was playing old Hindi film songs sung by Kishore Kumar. Like many other sadhus, he was dressed in only a loincloth, though the day was quite chilly. His hair was braided and dreadlocked as is the sadhu custom, and he looked like an Indian version of Bob Marley. He was lean and muscular, and his age was undeterminable. He may have been thirty. On the other hand, he may have been seventy. It was hard to tell, just by looking at him.
Many sadhus are usually looking for your money, and since most of them live alone, they tend to be a garrulous bunch who will take every opportunity they get to chew your ear off with stories about spirituality and God, in return of course, for a little cash. Having been the reluctant victim of such sermons from sadhus in the past, I was a little wary and gave the guy a wide berth. But I could not help but notice how happy he looked.
As I walked past him, he turned around and gave me the happiest, sunniest, laziest, most welcoming smile I have ever seen on the face of a human being. It was such an infectious, contagious smile, that I could not help but smile back. I observed him closely. He did not look like he was under the influence of the potent local “ganja”. It was also obvious that he was not looking for an audience. Nor was he looking for a handout. I was in his neighbourhood, and it was just his way of welcoming me to it.
Four months later, that smile has still stayed with me. The next time I am up at “Muni Ki Reti” in Rishikesh, I will keep an eye out for this guy. If I see him, I will ask him what makes him so happy. I may also learn a thing or two about happiness.
So who is the happiest person I have ever seen? I would like to have said “happiest man I ever met”, but I did not meet him. However, I did see him, last November in the Indian mountain temple town of Rishikesh.
My wife and I were wandering through an area of Rishikesh called “Muni Ki Reti” (the Hermit’s Sands). This is the place where the fast-flowing Ganges River emerges from the high Himalayas and meets the vast plains of Northern India. “Muni Ki Reti” is a sandy beach, which overlooks the swift Ganges River and the bustling town of Rishikesh beyond. It was a cool sunny day, and across the river in the distance, the temple bells were tinkling. There weren’t too many people walking around “Muni Ki Reti” apart from us, a few white-water rafters in the distance and an assortment of dazed backpackers looking for nirvana. Their search seemed to be going nowhere.
Suddenly in the distance, by the riverbed, I saw a lone “sadhu” (hermit) who was relaxing on his “charpoy” (a wooden cot bound together with rope). It was obvious that he lived on that riverbank. His sole possessions were his “charpoy”, a couple of tin drums that contained his meagre personal belongings, a stove, and a battered old transistor radio that was playing old Hindi film songs sung by Kishore Kumar. Like many other sadhus, he was dressed in only a loincloth, though the day was quite chilly. His hair was braided and dreadlocked as is the sadhu custom, and he looked like an Indian version of Bob Marley. He was lean and muscular, and his age was undeterminable. He may have been thirty. On the other hand, he may have been seventy. It was hard to tell, just by looking at him.
Many sadhus are usually looking for your money, and since most of them live alone, they tend to be a garrulous bunch who will take every opportunity they get to chew your ear off with stories about spirituality and God, in return of course, for a little cash. Having been the reluctant victim of such sermons from sadhus in the past, I was a little wary and gave the guy a wide berth. But I could not help but notice how happy he looked.
As I walked past him, he turned around and gave me the happiest, sunniest, laziest, most welcoming smile I have ever seen on the face of a human being. It was such an infectious, contagious smile, that I could not help but smile back. I observed him closely. He did not look like he was under the influence of the potent local “ganja”. It was also obvious that he was not looking for an audience. Nor was he looking for a handout. I was in his neighbourhood, and it was just his way of welcoming me to it.
Four months later, that smile has still stayed with me. The next time I am up at “Muni Ki Reti” in Rishikesh, I will keep an eye out for this guy. If I see him, I will ask him what makes him so happy. I may also learn a thing or two about happiness.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Economics: The G-20 Summit and A “Cho-Chweet” Moment
The CNBC television channel today indignantly reported the extremely high compensation figures for Chief Executive Officers of several U.S. companies, at a time when their organizations are getting hammered by the stock markets and their revenues and profits are falling. This newscast was featured against the backdrop of violent protests outside the venue for the G-20 summit in London, where leaders of twenty of the world’s most powerful nations are meeting to try and figure out how to nurse the world’s economy back to health. People are beginning to get really angry. Of course, there was the usual assortment of Luddites and anarchists among the protestors. But for the first time, there also were sober older people who have lost their jobs and savings in the current recession.
It was obvious that Barack Obama’s charm and charisma stood out at the G-20 summit. Obama and his wife are still getting rock-star treatment in the U.S and around the world. The charisma, promises and potential that the Obama administration represent are all very good; but very soon, people all over the world are going to start wanting results. It is a little bit like the Beatles re-uniting (if they were all still alive). Everybody would be excited, but at some point people would start expecting a hit new song or album.
The breathlessness and excitement that the Obama family causes was evident during a press conference at the end of the G-20 summit. The U.S. President held a press conference. As usual, he was a mesmerizing speaker, and had the world press eating out of his palm. The speech was long on promising rhetoric but short on real progress made by the leaders of the world’s top twenty nations (which now includes India).
The Obama-mania came to a head when a pretty young Indian journalist with the Times of India who identified herself only as Simran, asked him what the U.S. planned to do regarding terrorist activities emanating from Pakistan and directed at India. You could tell that young Simran was trembling with excitement and anticipation. Obama started answering her question by saying that he thought that Indian Prime Minister was a very decent and good man, to which Simran said “Thank you”. I am not sure if Obama’s assessment of Manmohan Singh is accurate, but that is not what this blog is about.
Simran’s response to Obama’s praise of Singh raised a few laughs among the audience of journalists. Obama then teased her by asking her whether she had anything to do with the (perceived) fact that Manmohan Singh was a nice and decent man. You could tell that young Simran was completely and totally overwhelmed by Obama’s charisma. It was one of those “cho-chweet” moments that the U.S. media telecast over and over again; one that will make a 15 minute celebrity of Simran. You can bet that talk shows back in India will start interviewing her about her momentary brush with fame. She is going to be talking about this moment to her grandkids.
It looks like Obama’s charisma is still working its magic. While that is good for him, his administration needs to head to the studio and start making that new hit song or album. The whole world waits with bated breath. Hundreds of millions of jobs and the world’s return to economic health are in the balance.
It was obvious that Barack Obama’s charm and charisma stood out at the G-20 summit. Obama and his wife are still getting rock-star treatment in the U.S and around the world. The charisma, promises and potential that the Obama administration represent are all very good; but very soon, people all over the world are going to start wanting results. It is a little bit like the Beatles re-uniting (if they were all still alive). Everybody would be excited, but at some point people would start expecting a hit new song or album.
The breathlessness and excitement that the Obama family causes was evident during a press conference at the end of the G-20 summit. The U.S. President held a press conference. As usual, he was a mesmerizing speaker, and had the world press eating out of his palm. The speech was long on promising rhetoric but short on real progress made by the leaders of the world’s top twenty nations (which now includes India).
The Obama-mania came to a head when a pretty young Indian journalist with the Times of India who identified herself only as Simran, asked him what the U.S. planned to do regarding terrorist activities emanating from Pakistan and directed at India. You could tell that young Simran was trembling with excitement and anticipation. Obama started answering her question by saying that he thought that Indian Prime Minister was a very decent and good man, to which Simran said “Thank you”. I am not sure if Obama’s assessment of Manmohan Singh is accurate, but that is not what this blog is about.
Simran’s response to Obama’s praise of Singh raised a few laughs among the audience of journalists. Obama then teased her by asking her whether she had anything to do with the (perceived) fact that Manmohan Singh was a nice and decent man. You could tell that young Simran was completely and totally overwhelmed by Obama’s charisma. It was one of those “cho-chweet” moments that the U.S. media telecast over and over again; one that will make a 15 minute celebrity of Simran. You can bet that talk shows back in India will start interviewing her about her momentary brush with fame. She is going to be talking about this moment to her grandkids.
It looks like Obama’s charisma is still working its magic. While that is good for him, his administration needs to head to the studio and start making that new hit song or album. The whole world waits with bated breath. Hundreds of millions of jobs and the world’s return to economic health are in the balance.
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