Shefaly Yogendra

Adults who slap and beat others, or why abuse of power imbalance must be challenged…

by Shefaly on February 4, 2010

Some of us remember the uproar in the media about the beating one of the Slumdog Millionaire child stars received from his father. And then it all went quiet.

Children and servants in India are often at the receiving end of physical violence, in the form of slapping or beating, from adults who hold power over them. These adults include teachers, masters and mistresses, and sadly, some parents.

It is not uncommon in India to see a minor car crash, followed by the two drivers getting out of their cars to assess the damage. If both drivers are sahibs or owners of the cars, rude words follow but then things are settled. If one driver is a sahib, and the other merely someone’s employee-driver, the latter almost always gets a slap and a few choicest, abusive epithets about his mother or his sister. Mind you, the person slapping (slapper?) is a complete stranger to the person being slapped, but that doesn’t seem to bother the slapper in the least. The sahib presumes a superior power position and acts accordingly. Unfortunately, the employee-driver doesn’t always presume his right to self-defence or even offence-as-defence.

Likewise with children. Indians who were in school during the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s were commonly beaten up as part of the disciplining process. Note I did not say “slapped”, I said “beaten”. I have heard of and seen the sharp edge of rulers, canes, and once a blackboard duster, being used to discipline some boys in a manner totally out of proportion with their mischief or misdemeanour. I particularly remember two teachers mainly for their violence towards students; one used his hands on the faces of 10-15 year olds while the other’s favourite tool was his ruler. I also remember noticing that the same boys and girls were repeatedly punished in many ways, including being asked to stand on a bench for the entire day, or being asked to kneel down for hours outside the classroom or worse, in front of the school assembly. Clearly violence-as-disciplining wasn’t very effective! While I made much mischief, I never got caught and my strong academic performance, a big “character reference” in India then and I suppose even now, made sure I never got punished. Clearly the threat of violence was also no deterrent for the determined.

This morning, I heard how an 11 year old child, who has just gone to live in India for a short while, was slapped by his teacher. The child comes from a very different culture. To him, this idea of disciplining is alien. When I heard I felt instantly livid and embarrassed. It seemed the barbarism is alive and kicking, and now we are passing it on to our children. So much for India Shining!

I decided to probe further. I asked this question of Indian users on Twitter:

Has your child been caned/ slapped by a teacher? What was your response?

I also asked some Indian friends the same question by email, and sought to clarify the legal position on the matter.

Now these are no scientific surveys of opinions and attitudes, but it was an interesting exercise. The answers were variable, as expected (the ages are my guesses based on my interactions with some respondents). Those in their late 20s and early 30s, who do or do not have kids, took strong exception to the possibility of their child being physically disciplined at school. Most of the DMs (direct messages which are not in the public stream) came from mothers who protested against such slapping etc; they report being told variously by the school to take their child elsewhere or finding their other children expelled or disciplined, as if to make a point. There was also a disappointing chorus from men and women alike to the effect: “We got beaten too, we turned out ok, didn’t we? Why this fuss then?”. Why disappointing? Because this sounds like a defence of the practice as if there is some kind of licence in perpetuity for slappings and beatings to continue. Oh, and it is not a school-specific issue. Some of India’s best known schools were mentioned as being the purveyors of such beatings!

The legal framework disallows the use of beatings/ physical punishment as a method of disciplining. But it seems to be deterring few teachers and school principals! (Ed. note, added Feb 5th, 2010, the source is a barrister friend in India: Rule 37 of the Delhi School Establishment Rules was held as unconstitutional by the Delhi HC in 2001. This was the provision that permitted corporal punishment as a permissible form of punishment for extreme indiscipline. Incidentally, even the old Rule 37 authorised only the Principal/Head to mete out corporal punishment. That too in narrow circumstances. The Rule also took into account the possibility that a cane may be used to dispense corporal punishment. If a cane is used, it must be limited to 10 strokes on the palm and nowhere else.) One has to wonder who dreams up and drafts this sort of precision in cruelty!

Most interesting has been the high volume of messages that suggested that parents really should not do anything such as trying to escalate the matter, or take the school to task otherwise. Why? Because almost certainly the child will be ostracised, or otherwise made to feel humiliated in the school, or worse, will be expelled altogether. The story – as stories do in India – will get around and the parents won’t be able to secure any place for their child.

The issue therefore boils down to the same old: the school has power over the student and by extension, the parents; the teacher has power over the student and doesn’t hesitate to use it and slaps and beats the student; the parents keep quiet for fear of blowing up the situation; the teacher continues unchastised; the school continues to mouth clichés with nary a dent to their reputation.

If the behaviour goes unchallenged, what is the message to the child?

That violence, especially if you are the powerful one and hence the perpetrator, is acceptable as a problem solving method?

That violence is tolerable, because you have to keep your eye on the big picture (such as staying in school)?

That violence is valid to use against those powerless against you?

Excellent and consistent message, I think. Institutionalising such violence is a proven way to ensure we turn out generations of the same solid characters that people now in their 30s, 40s, and 50s turned out to be, thanks to all that slapping and beating and kneeling down.

One thing is also certain. That way we keep these servants in their place. The drivers – and perhaps domestic maids and servants in India – can happily look forward to years of beatings at the hands of their masters and mistressed, thus educated. They too should look at the big picture. At least they have jobs.

PS: I was struggling to find a good, catchy title for this post. In the end I settled for what this is about. Please do not offer Victorian explanations (we are in the 21st century!) or “it also happens in other countries, why are you singling out India again?”. I don’t care about other countries. Besides, are we lemmings that we must follow every one else off a steep hill’s cliff?

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A Hindu Education aka A Study in Secular Exasperation

by Shefaly on January 29, 2010

It is apparently a first in the UK. Krishna-Avanti Primary School that recently opened in Edgware, North London, is the first school to promise its pupils that they will receive a Hindu Education. (Ed. The description “Hindu Education” was used to describe the school’s offering in the 8am news bulletin on BBC Radio 4, on January 29th; I add this clarification because several people have said to me that they didn’t find the exact expression in the BBC news article I linked to. Thanks.).  The school is state-funded but “to gain admission, pupils will need to get a temple priest to confirm that they are regular worshippers“.

If this surprises some of you, it really shouldn’t. State funding of faith schools is common in the UK although a majority of us civilians and teachers’ unions oppose it. The “worship” requirement is also not unique to this school. Over the years of living here, I have known many a convenience-worshipper, who will join a church just so their child can get into a certain Church of England school. I am sure some Hindus too will conveniently take out their Sunday best and make a beeline to Neasden to get their kids into this school if they are keen.

Is it discriminatory? You bet it is! It is also unfair. A Muslim friend of mine, who pays the whopping council tax to Westminister City Council, can not even apply to get her sons to be considered in well-performing but state-subsidised CoE or Catholic schools within the Council area. It is also a criminal waste of state funds. And for once, I am not the minority. A majority of this country’s population agrees.

But the million pound question rankling me is this: what is a Hindu education?

According to the BBC news article, “… pupils chant each morning in the ancient Indian language of Sanskrit, before lessons that include meditation and yoga. They will study the national curriculum, but also tend the garden and learn Hindu concepts such as the equality of all living things.”

The website of the school has more information with statements like “..where Vedic values and culture are a part of everyday life” and references to vegetarianism (also see link to Vaishnava Values where they generously inform visitors of the other three strands of Hinduism, namely Shaivism, Shaktism and Smarta).

I must admit, I am impressed that such profoundly knowledgeable people exist who can summarise all of Hinduism in 4 strands. It is also impressive to compress a complex, organic, ever-changing philosophy into these building blocks, which I suppose, good Hindus must be made of.

The school’s claim on Yoga may further solidify the belief in some Muslim communities that its Hindu roots could corrupt their religious beliefs. Some Christians too think of Yoga as a Hindu thing, never mind the many Christians in America and elsewhere who practise it.

About meditation, I am not so sure. Buddhists meditate too. So is this kosher (!) Hindu education? Point to ponder.

Their aim to teach Sanskrit is also valiant, as dying languages almost always take a whole body of literature, and cultural text and subtext with them. I would like to see someone from this school produce a thoughtful commentary on the Vedas, of course, after they have read them in original Sanskrit.

That shouldn’t be hard, should it? After all, the school embodies Vedic values and culture as a part of everyday life. I wonder what that means. Beyond the Hindu Arabic numerals (although if you have “Arabic” in there, is that really Hindu education to teach children that?) Does it mean Vedic maths? Will science lessons include a reading of Charaka Samhita and Sushruta Samhita? Does that also include study of the Vedas?

Or does it mean that the supremacy of the patriarchy is preached and practised daily in the school? How about the caste system? I am curious to see how it will be practised in day to day life in the school. Do only Brahmins get to teach and study, while the Kshatriyas can have a PE period all day long? Let me stop there. Or not. What about Manusmriti? It is not a Vedic period relic but a classic piece of work it is in how it shaped Hindu societies.

And that aim to promote equality of all living things? Is that Hinduism? On the one hand, if living things are humans, we have the caste system ensuring they are anything but equal. Hindus, unlike some other religious folk, don’t hold any animals as impure but that doesn’t mean that human beings are equal to a horse in stature. Or a cow. Wait, a cow is different, sacred, ok?

While we are disagreeing, may I also say that not all Hindus are vegetarians? Eating meat or drinking alcohol are not proscribed practices in all branches of Hinduism. In fact, the followers of Shaivism will be within their rights to claim their human rights are being violated if they are forced to be vegetarians. Indeed some Vaishnava sub-sects may object too, but that is between the Vaishnavas to sort out.

On a serious note, some Hindus do feel ignored in the UK. Search for “Hindus Crime Rate UK” on Google and you will see why. Not for Hindus, those column inches given to religious fanatics, petty criminals and violence-inciters! The Swastika, an ancient symbol of well-being in Hinduism and other religions, nearly got banned in the EU at Germany’s behest but was saved by a Hindu protest. You see something must be done to be noticed, not to be ignored any more. Sometimes the desire leads to extremely questionable stances in public, helped not a little by some journalists, whose real agendas are other than being pro-Hindu or liberal in a broader sense. There is a long-running court case where a Hindu man is fighting the state for his right to open air cremation.

Why spoil this record of being good citizens in the UK by creating a school based on religious segregation? Why label a motley mishmash of ideological precepts a “Hindu education”?  Is this the only way to stand up and be counted? And if it really is, and the commitment is real, why take state funding?

Surely, like Hinduism, a Hindu education could stand for inclusion and tolerance of a diversity of view points, as well as people. For free discussion in the spirit of the debate culture embodied in shaastra-artha (Lit. Meaning of the scriptures) that could lead to informed choices, whether on vegetarianism or on meditation. For true equality in a way that the caste-system entrenched in Hinduism does not enable.

Even as I write I realise such idealism is probably at best, asymptotic, at worst, a divergent function of some kind.

Meanwhile, a friend of mine humorously suggested on Twitter that Hindu education was “remember your caste, honour your parents, pay the Brahman, study for a profession, own a Mercedes“. I suspect he may be more right than he knows.

Post-script:

The following comment came on email from a friend, who attended a tough Jesuit School in 1950s Scotland:

“Why not faith funding for state schools?”

I think many of us would like that to happen. All the money wasted in donations to temples, churches, and other places of worship should be collected and used to improve state schools. Two can play the game, I am sure.

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Scoop on iPad, aka iSay

by Shefaly on January 27, 2010

All that hoopla over the last few days and what does Apple launch? A tablet device unimaginatively called iPad. The unfortunate associations surfaced immediately as was evident from iTampon trending on Twitter within minutes of the announcement.

Dear readers, seeing the enthusiasm, I have decided not to conceal the secrets of future versions any more. Here is what iSay:

  • The next iPad version will be fully edible and called iPadThai.
  • Also available, a special version for Mother’s Day and for your Buddhist friends: iPadMa.
  • The Indian Government announces an addition to the National awards: iPadMaShree.
  • Neigh-sayers not be damned. For your pony, a special iPaddock.

I am sure you all have some secrets too. Come on, share them with us too.

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Looking back, looking ahead

by Shefaly on January 12, 2010

(Long post alert!)

The new year 2010 isn’t so new any more. We are already nearly 2 weeks into it. Presumably much has already happened. Indeed it has. For those who were keeping an eye, I obtained my driving licence last week. On the only day of the week when tests had not been cancelled due to icy roads. Lucky me! Since then, more snow has been dumped by the skies and shovelled than I had experienced in the UK over the last 12 years. And as you can see, this blog is back online, at a brand new address, even though at the moment it is a work-in-progress.

So if you are still reading, thank you and here is a run-down of some of the best and worst of 2009.

Most exciting sight: Seeing the Tata Nano on the test track inside Tata Motors in Pune in January 2009.

Meeting people: This was the most wonderful, recurring highlight of 2009.

Web-to-real-world transitions: Meeting Prerna Jain and Nita Kulkarni, my blog friends, and Netra Parikh, in person. In Delhi, Prerna came to lunch – with presents, including a bandhanwar she had made herself. In Mumbai, Nita came a long way to Worli to meet but thanks to my over-run schedule, we managed to meet and chat for just 20 minutes. Which was regrettable till Nita visited the UK later in the year. Netra is the most amazingly generous person I have met thanks to the web. We had sizzlers and chatted over dinner  for an insufficient amount of time.

Twitter friends - Manu and Nikhil - turned out to be like they are on the web. Manu has a sharp sense of humour and excellent comedic timing, while Nikhil is always reading and connecting things. I also met other people I had only known via my blog and Twitter before.

The hiatuses that ended: I saw four of my very good friends after a gap of 14-18 years.

“Our celebrities are not like your celebrities”: With apologies to Intel for mangling their line, I can’t hide my joy at having met some people last year. In April 2009, many of us read about “frugal innovation” in the Economist. The opening story was about surgical innovation. And in June 2009, at a Bangalore Bio reception hosted by the British High Commission, I met Dr Vivek Jawali, who pioneered the technique! After a short presentation, I was talking to many biotech CEOs and was excitedly talking about “frugal innovation” and how impressive the surgery story was. Dr Jawali smiled indulgently, then quietly told me in a low voice: “That surgeon is me.” At the same reception I met Dr Kiran Mazumdar-Shaw about whom I had written earlier in the year. I also met – and am working with – one of the scientists who was of crucial importance in enabling Dolly The Sheep.

Most memorable cultural experience: “Waiting for Godot” with Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart in July 2009. McKellen and Stewart are old sparring partners in theatre and their mutual comfort with each other made the relationship between Estragon and Vladimir truly fascinating to watch. Ronald Pickup gave Lucky’s monologue a twist I do not imagine seeing again while Simon Callow as the callow Pozzo, unaware of his ill-treatment of Lucky was astounding (he can go red at will as if holding his breath!). There, in very simple words, my experience of one of the most discussed and interpreted works in the Theatre of the Absurd. You can see some photos from that production here.

The play competed for the “most memorable” slot with:

In February 2009, the exhibition Indian Highway at the Serpentine Galleryshowcased MF Hussain’s works amongst others;

In April 2009, an engrossing panel with Amartya Sen, Vikram Seth, Ramachandra Guha, David Davidar and Nandan Nilekani (why, oh, why?) during London Book Fair, discussing The Many Avatars of the Indian Creative Mind (you can listen to the audio link here);

In June 2009, BBC Radio 2’s recording of a concert with Yusuf Islam, formerly Cat Stevens; for 90 minutes, he sang his old and new numbers, acoustic and despite my mixed feelings about the whole withdrawal-from-then-return-to public performance, I came away thrilled.

In August 2009, BBC Proms Khyal and Kerala session in the morning; this was the first time BBC Proms have had an India day. Pandit Ram Narayan’s performance was very moving and I count it as one of the most fortuitous things I have experienced.

In more intellectually stimulating events, notable was when Dr Raghuram Rajan, an alumnus of IIMA and former Chief Economist at the IMF, spoke at a small IIMA Alumni event. Few people know that he, like Nouriel Roubini, had predicted the financial bust of 2007-08 in 2005. I also attended a fascinating session with Robert Shiller on How Human Psychology Drives The Economy. You can hear the audio recording here.

I ended the year by watching the ATP Tour semi-finals at the O2 arena, whereDavydenko thrashed Federer. Which was just as well great because I am not a great Federer fan.

Most humbling, emotional and speechless moment: Meeting Karambir Kang, when I was on a British trade delegation and we attended a lunch to show solidarity with the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel and Tower in Mumbai, January 2009. If you don’t know who he is – most on our delegation did not know – please click on the link and read about him.

Last but not the least, on October the 24th, 2009, I finally graduated with my doctorate.

The year 2010 is off to a busy start. Time to build on the foundations laid in 2009. On y va!

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Losing the p(i)lot

by Shefaly on November 19, 2009

Lekhni’s post was the first I heard of remarks made by Vice Chief Air Marshal P K Barbora of the Indian Air Force on women fighter pilots. She has excerpted the interesting bits on her post, so you may want to read it in full. The thrust of Barbora’s comment is that the IAF invests a lot in training fighter pilots, therefore women fighter pilots getting pregnant means a definite economic loss and he would rather they did not get pregnant until their late 30s.

Lekhni is understandably upset. If it were a large corporate discussing a managerial job, I would be miffed too. But not in this instance.

If it weren’t for laws making saying so illegal, few small businesses would willingly hire women of child-bearing years as employees. They just cannot afford the costs of replacement hiring, statutory pay, the need to keep the job open etc. Some small business owners in the UK, including women, have gone on record to say so and face much malign.

Fighter pilots, because they make a tiny % of all trained pilots, have to be looked at like a small business inside a larger IAF. They are in-charge of extremely expensive equipment and are trained accordingly. The recruitment process is extremely tough which means only a small % of pilots can actually get in to train as fighter pilots. After all that, would you begrudge an employer for feeling upset about losing their prize assets?

While Barbora’s arguments are crassly-made and hugely non-PC, they actually articulate what many employers think and practise as far as they can. If it weren’t so, pipelines for senior roles and board roles in corporate organisations would be far better populated with women! But they are not. Discrimination in hiring and promoting women is rife and institutionalised.

The solution is not in getting upset and criticising each time the issue is raised – however badly or smoothly it may be worded – but in larger organisational change. In what Sylvia-Ann Hewlett calls “on-ramps” and “off-ramps” for women who wish to have families. So who’ll be first to bring about that change? I haven’t seen a mad scramble amongst corporates and other employers yet. Have you?

What about the social imperative to maintain a certain rate of population replenishment as it were?

Well, statutory pay and maternity leave are some of the measures legislated by the State to serve this exact purpose. But to impose them uniformly is to obligate everyone to the social cause. That is unfair and counter-productive. Barbora’s comment as far as I can see are about fighter pilots and not widely about IAF pilots, serving in transportation or other functions in flying.

There is a systemic limitation: only women can bear children. Organisational change has to come while this remains a reality and in fact will only come when this reality is acknowledged and built into hiring, promotion, development and other human resource planning schemas. If we pretend that women’s pregnancy is not a “real” issue, what is there to change?

There is, of course, a second part to this debate: that of a woman’s choice and her rights. I may do a post on that some other time. My stance on women’s right to equal opportunity is well-known enough not to warrant a reiteration here.

Related reading:

British Vogue’s editor Alexandra Shulman on hiring women

Nichola Pease’s recent testimony to EHRC in the UK

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Is there such a thing as "maternal" instinct?

by Shefaly on November 14, 2009

So, how many mothers do you have?, asks Jackie.

This is a question few feel compelled to ask, especially since most seem to have enjoyed regular relationships with their mothers, uninterrupted by behavioural issues or events such as divorce or death. Fewer still know that asking such a question is not an affront to their real mothers but an acknowledgment of the fact, that much as some parents do not like it, their children are shaped through their life by far numerous people than just themselves. That is why Jackie’s question strikes a chord with me.

Since my mother died very early in my life, I have benefited from the wisdom, love, teaching and understanding of many mothers. Not many were related to me. Not many were even my mother’s generation. Most, in fact, were my friends’ mothers and my gratitude extends to cover my friends who did not and do not mind my having independent relationships with their mothers. Recently on a significant death anniversary of my mother, I wrote a tribute to all those wonderful women, outlining what I had learnt from them all. Then I sent it to them and to their children who are also my friends. It surprised many and several phone conversations followed in which the depth of our interactions was further explored.

That said, I am increasingly on the view that there is no such thing as a “maternal” instinct. The term, I believe, is an unfair and narrow appropriation of a “human” instinct which one either has or has not. That is why some people, who have no desire to have children, demonstrate far greater skill, patience and encouragement with children (and indeed other human beings regardless of age) than some of those, who have manifestly demonstrated their “maternal” instinct by having a child. Or eight.

That “human” instinct, where present, morphs based on the needs of a relationship at a given point in time. Being an auntie, for instance, is sometimes as important as being a mother. And as I am wont to cite songs, those of you, who understand Hindi, may want to listen to some of the lyrics of this song from Khamoshi (1969)!

Where the instinct is allowed to engage without the need for specific role names, much positivity emerges. I have provided care, warmth, attention, advice and tough love to perhaps as many friends as have done the same for me. Mending of broken hearts, swapping of recipes, buying of indulgent and practical presents, fixing furniture, helping in moves and settling in after moves, as well as cooking and freezing food for busy times are some of the things moms may or may not do for grown children. But I have been at the receiving end and the giving end of some or all of these.

Some modern friendships, with all their multidimensionality and richness, defy any simple labelling or classification which maps to our existing names for “roles” people play in our lives. Is it the lack of expectation of a “return” of some kind that makes us classify such behaviours as “maternal”?  If so, we do a great disservice to the many people, who engage in tiny and random acts of kindness towards people, who are not their progeny or even their family. Jackie uses a nice word – object constancy – for just remembering that people exist and letting them know when they least expect to hear from you.

There is a greater humanity around us. If only more of us recognised it in ourselves and in others, this world might just be a happier place. Every day.

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Raj Thackeray : Mumbai :: Nick Griffin : The UK

by Shefaly on November 13, 2009

Raj Thackeray is the founder-leader of Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS), a regional political party in the state of Maharashtra in India. The party are best-known for their interest in promoting the Marathi language and denouncing non-Marathi speakers immigrating into Mumbai in large numbers. This is generally reported in media as a pro-Marathi agenda. Violence against outsiders as well as run-ins with Hindi cinema have been some of the recent outcomes of this policy plank. The MNS has elected representatives on several city councils as well as the State Assembly of Maharashtra.

Nick Griffin is the Chairman of British National Party (BNP), a far-right political party in the UK. It is a whites-only – more accurately in their words “indigenous Caucasians” – party although following a recent court case, the party has agreed to change its constitution to remove any racial or religious discrimination. Prior to the change, the party’s constitution said that the party remains “committed to stemming and reversing the tide of non-white immigration and to restoring, by legal changes, negotiation and consent the overwhelmingly white makeup of the British population that existed in Britain prior to 1948″. The BNP does not have any elected members in Westminster or the Scottish Parliament or the Welsh Assembly, but they do have several elected councillors and now, two Members of the European Parliament including Nick Griffin.

Now whilst practical interpretations of democracy may vary from the textbook definitions, it would be churlish to deny that electoral outcomes in a democracy – as long as elections were free and fair – are a reliable indicator of broader political legitimacy of a political party. It does not matter how distasteful we as individuals may find those outcomes. Both MNS and BNP have that legitimacy.

Most poll data on broad support on MNS is unimpressive but it is not difficult to understand that the issue of ‘outsiders’ immigrating to Mumbai and stealing jobs is economic in nature, affecting poor people disproportionately. I’d recommend you read Nita’s post on the topic here.

So what about the BNP? Some of you may remember this old post where I argue that the white people of the UK (92% of the population) feeling they have no voice in the UK is more a class issue than a colour issue, and pointed out that the unskilled working class make up about 57% of the UK’s population. “Class” is a complex construct but broadly it is an economic classification that then drives certain cultural and behavioral preferences. Some links in that old post are instructive in this regard.

Both Thackeray and Griffin have touched a raw nerve with their campaigns. Their solutions are also remarkably similar and involve repatriation of ‘outsiders’ or ‘immigrants’ (voluntary, in case of BNP, as any other language may bring charges under ‘incitement to violence’; but from a distance, it seems MNS seems to suffer no such limitations!).

Old readers may know that I have written earlier about ending all immigration, and conducting an intellectually honest, socio-political experiment. Perhaps now is the time, eh?

As it happens, both MNS and BNP propose populist measures which will, without a doubt, bring them political gains in the short-term. But they will also mark out the state of Maharashtra and the UK as regions focused on separatism and discrimination, which really should not bother them if they do not care to participate in the broader economy of their country and the world.

Anyway, so what are MNS’s and BNP’s policies on education, training, enterprise and innovation? Will they really help skill up the illiterate, unskilled, untrained workers in Maharashtra and in the UK become globally competitive? Oh wait, I forgot, they do not want to engage with outsiders.

So the million Rupee/ Pound question: Are MNS/ BNP really enabling better futures for those they claim to represent?

You tell me.

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Remembrance Day

by Shefaly on November 11, 2009

In memory of those who died for great causes, and whose deaths we insult every day with our petty hatred (poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye):

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

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Pointless pursuits: driving

by Shefaly on August 5, 2009

I think I am Forrest Gump. Except that I walk instead of running. I walk everywhere. If you visit me in London, and I give you elaborate tube and bus directions, you can be sure I am giving you the run-around because chances are, I know a short walking route between the two points already. Ok I am joking. The pace at which I walk is not easy to match so if you did walk, you would probably take longer than I do.

In the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that never mind my walking, the first time anywhere strange or new, I take a taxi. I have been known to take a taxi from Green Park tube station to Murano on Queen Street, which is barely a 7-8 minute walk. That was just the one time though. Since then I have walked as I also now have a client on Queen Street and it damages my margins if I take taxis to their office every time I see them.

Since we are on full disclosure, I should add that thanks to my mother’s early death, nobody really taught me cycling. And since everyone in my house is taller than I, there never was a bicycle around that I could ride. That is my story anyway and I am sticking to it before you probe further as to why I do not ride a bicycle.

Which brings me to driving. I have fond memories of my dad’s sky blue Ambassador. Except the one time when I was standing on the back seat, resting my arms on the back of the front seat – yes, we were reckless in India in those days – when my dad had to brake suddenly. I was sent flying nose down to the front of the car. It wasn’t very pleasant.

Bleeding noses apart, to be fair, I cannot claim nobody taught me how to drive. Four people tried. And failed. In four countries. In two continents. Pretty spectacular, huh? One of them was India so may be I shouldn’t count that. Then there was Holland where my Surinamese/ Dutch driving instructor spoke a 300 year old version of Hindi I could barely comprehend. He saw me and switched to Hindi with a mix of Dutch. I did learn to look over my shoulder for cyclists though, a very important skill on roads anywhere. In Switzerland, my driving instructor successfully taught me how to park on undulating roads, of which there are plenty in Switzerland making that kind of parking a required skill. He also taught me how to tailgate, which is illegal but practised daily by Swiss drivers. He successfully got me driving on Swiss motorways, top speed 120 kmph, which was handy when I moved to England and had an official car for a few days, that I drove on an international driving permit from, you guessed it, India. In England I took what seemed an interminable number of lessons from a British-Punjabi instructor with enormous patience. Before him I experimented unsuccessfully with a screechy English woman instructor, whose end – with me, regarding driving instruction – came swiftly when she raised her volume with me. Yes, I made a complaint against her demeanour. In writing.

But I never bothered to take a driving test. In any of the countries mentioned. Because I find driving pointless. I mean, why keep your eyes peeled for all manner of idiots zipping around in metal baskets on narrow roads, gradually losing their manners and tempers, when you can doze all the way to your destination? In a train whose motion and noise so easily dispatches you to the arms of Hypnos. Why waste 3 hours sitting on the M25 in a traffic jam when the train takes you across in an hour? I mean all that listening to Chris Rea should have told you by now, this ain’t no technological breakdown… Now, now don’t tell me you didn’t know the song was about London’s ring road, the M25!

Don’t get me wrong. I love cars. My secret love for robots is only topped by my not-so-secret love of fast cars and Top Gear. For a person without a driving licence, I have an unhealthy interest in souped-up clangers. Such as my neighbour’s Subaru which, when he revs, makes my windows rattle. Although I generally do not talk to strangers, I make an exception for people with interesting cars. When I lived in Edinburgh, there was a Mexican cantina opposite the flat. It was open till 4am. The owner’s Pagani Zonda, yellow, saved him from my complaints to the noise warden.  When I lived in Berkshire, I visited regularly my village pizzeria opposite which, on weekends, was parked a purple Lamborghini. And on a recent trip to California, I not only enjoyed all sorts of cars around the valley, I also rudely spent a lot of time drooling at the cars in a car showroom in my hosts’ town. I have never passed up an opportunity for a joy ride in my friends’ Lotuses, TVR Tuscans, and lately Porsche Boxsters.

But then at high speeds, or on windy roads, I throw up. So far so good with the Tuscan, the Boxster, the CLK etc in my life, thanks to anti-emetics and motion sickness tablets.

So why should I bother with driving? I can get places in a green and swift manner. I can sleep or read during my travels. And trains do not make me throw up at high speeds (although to be safe, I don’t look out of the window after the Eurostar crosses the Chunnel). If it is the car I must ogle at, being outside it provides a better vantage point.

But then, there is the possibility of carrying lots to eat or drink, or to change CDs, or to go to the gym in my part of town (40 min on foot, 5 min by car). And the opportunity to go grocery shopping every now and then, rather than weekly. Considering I have an extremely small foot print by way of consumption, why not drive and make it reasonable? Must keep up with the footprint of the Indians, you know, and the Brits and the Americans.

So I have signed up for a few more lessons. With the newly opened Mercedes Benz driving academy. Some of my lessons are on the track. The first one was today. I did well, seeing as the instructor’s scores on most of my stuff were better than my own scores.

I am sort of ready to change my mind. Like always. I am also curious. And slightly bored with my walking. And only cross-training and pilates.. I want to be able to go to the gym. And then there is the carbon footprint thing.

Which brings me back to walking. Since I walk a lot, I wear flat shoes. Always.

They are perfect for driving, you know.

These shoes are my favourite kind - in 11 colours

These shoes are my favourite kind - in 11 colours

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Notes on "prahar"

by Shefaly on July 13, 2009

“Jaco Pastorius“, said the Facebook status message of my friend in California. He was just waking up. Something else had been in my mind since the morning that day. A rather boom-boom tune that I heard on BBC as soon as I switched the radio on.

So I asked him if he listens to jazz in the morning and if it feels, you know, right. He replied that he sets the bar pretty high for the morning letting Monk and Shakti (arguably not quite jazz) punctuate it for him. Sometimes western classical music, which I did not dwell upon. He added that he thinks that while Indian classical music is more evolved and more explicit, perhaps western classical is more implicit, intuitive.

I am not trained in classical music, nor is he. But we both tend to pick similar music for specific times of the day. That is lucky as it helps avoid arguments and keeps world peace intact when we are in the same geographical space.

Are we both essentially reacting to is the intrinsic character of certain combinations of notes? Regardless of the “type” of music? Could it be that the concept of  “prahar” as seen in Indian classical music is nothing but a formalisation of that intuitive feel of the music and a retro-fitting to scale and notes? What am I missing? Beside the obvious lack of musical education?

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