Baccalaureus In Arte Ingeniaria!

Finally, it's over. Engineering could well classify as one of the Seven Plagues of the Heavens, what with all the trials and tribulations it inflicts upon those who seek to walk in its path. And yet, it has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life so far. I have found friends, friends whose company I have come to treasure more than anything. I also got to understand that although failure is to be avoided at all circumstances, but it isn't the end of things; rather, it is the beginning of a new struggle, to better oneself, to face the world in a better and more effective manner. I also came to realise that I wasn't as dumb as I thought myself to be. True, my friends would beg to differ, and I might even agree, but then I never deny that I am sometimes dumb, maybe just as much as to be completely condemned to an institution.

Having those two letters B.E. (with the two periods in between as well) is perhaps the greatest prize that one can achieve after having tolerated tortuous lectures, numbing practical sessions, and dumb assignments and journals. Suddenly all that time seems so very bearable, because now in a moment, one has suddenly grown from a nervous student to a confident engineer, a person in one's own right. The convocation is in December, and maybe I will be here in Mumbai, or maybe not. Whatever it may be, there's no force on earth (other than my boss) which can stop me from attending my convocation, and wearing that black robe, with the chocolate (don't ask me why chocolate) sash.
Could there be a more delightful thing in life? I am still trying to figure it out.

Humanity at its best!

I guess it was expected. Mumbai would fight back, it won't be cowed down. She has seen too much of this to now be affected by this. This may seem inhumane, for one needs time to recover from such a fatal blow, and yet, Mumbai knows that to stop, even for a moment, in its pace would be even more fatal to it. And won't she be playing into the hands of those who have desecrated her peace? Won't she, by slowing down to grieve, demean the memories of those who have died, for did they not live to work, in all their industrious and determined spirits? No, she must go on, as before. She will survive this day, and many more like these. Justice will be done, one day, but it will be done, either on earth or above.

It is humbling to see the people of this fair city come forward and assist total strangers in this crisis. And this comes from a city called the 'rudest' city by a periodical? Wonder what they will say now? The timely assistance delivered by the passer-bys to the injured may have saved countless lives, for had one waited for the official arrangements to arrive, god knows how many more would have died. And the system also must be credited in its quickness to react. One could see policemen at every corner, in a reassuring manner, to tell people that even if such dastardly acts have occured, they must maintain their calm and composure. The radio spoke of the need to be calm, people poured in with information, about the traffic conditions, about their desire to be of assistance. This is the true face of Mumbai, a city of love, compassion, humanity. Stripped of her garb of fame and glory, and stark in her humane glow. Living her motto, 'I Will Survive'. Gloria Gaynor would have been pleased.

A city bleeds!

My city bleeds again, and I weep for it. I weep for its people, industrious, noble, good at heart, unconcerned with what their neighbour is doing, and yet eager to rush to his succour should he need it. I weep for the land that has seen so many of her children fall to the crazed mania of demented souls. I weep for the skies that had to behold the painful sight of watching the tongues of fire consume bodies and souls. It is in these moments of anguish that one questions, "Has He forsaken us? If not, why does He torment us so? Why does He question our faith in Him?"
And weeping is not the only thing I wish to do. For there is rage, anger, wrath to be felt as well. Anger at those who believe the senseless killing of innocents, oblivious to the cause of their to-be murderers, will serve any purpose. Rage at those who assist these demons in the guise of human beings, and condemn their fellow beings to a most dastardly death. Wrath at those who will offer these sons of Lucifer support, even if it even be moral and diplomatic.
What good will this violence serve? Will the blood of innocents be the standard of the nation they seek to form? Will the cries of widows and orphans be the song of their rejoicing? Will the tears of those who suffered be the water that they partake of? And do they expect their own state to be in peace when bought at such a horrific price? Thou shalt reap what thou hast sowed.
I can offer nothing but my condolences to those who have lost their loved ones in these cowardly incidents. It is hard, and I cannot even begin to imagine the pain, the suffering, and the horror that they are going through right now. I ask of them to take some comfort in this that their beloved at least must have felt no pain when they died, that the unholy cataclysm in its flares granted them the most peaceful of departures. Of those whose beloved have died of injuries, believe that he/she has finally been freed of the pain, the suffering, and that it is just a silent sleep for them. Those whose loved one(s) are still in hospital, I pray and hope that they recover well and as soon as possible.
To the government, I ask: Will we get to see a State that is for its people, or will you again bungle up and deny people justice? Let this be a warning, the penultimate one! No more, I pray!

And Then There Were None!

Once in a while, one comes across a book, that raises the hair on one's back. Sometimes it does so even without claiming to be a horror novella, or even a thriller. And in that lies its genius, for to claim to be something means one must conform to the basic expectations thought of that genre. But when it doesn't claim to be anything but itself, when it simply is itself, and yet it creates an atmosphere of being something else, of being one thing at one moment, and another at the other, that is the mark of a superb effort, of a magnificent art.
I have always had the highest regard for Agatha Christie's writings, be it her Poirot series, or her Miss Marple books, or her Tommy & Tuppence books. But it is in her unrelated books, books that could not be classified into any specific series that she shows her mastery. Be in 'Death Comes As The End' or 'Endless Night' or 'The Mysterious Mr. Quin', Christie does best when not required to be constrained by a singular character. With all due regard to her heroes and heroines, but I have loved her 'unclassifiables' more than her 'classifiables'.

But her crowning glory is without doubt 'And Then There Were None'. Those of you who have seen the television series 'Lost' will identify the similar underlying story of a group of people stranded on a deserted island and dropping dead one by one. The murderer is unknown, there is no way anyone other than the members of the group could be on the island, and so the blame is pinned on the group itself. One member is killing them all, and then there were none.
I had the ill sense to read this book in the night, in a nearly deserted house, with only one light room, the wind blowing ominously outside, and nothing but the sound of the owls hooting to keep me company. You can imagine how I must have felt as each character starts falling dead. Let me tell you: I WAS SCARED SHIT! Just one suggestion: Never, ever, read this book when alone at night!
The lucid narration and the beautiful descriptions that Christie provides are examples of a finesse most modern authors lack. Her built-up of atmosphere is retained right till the last page, even when the identity of the murderer is revealed. And that is Christie at her best, at her finest. Salutations to the Queen of Crime!

Le Coupe du Monde!

Finally, it’s over. The World Cup has been passed on, new champions have been created, and older ones have been humbled. Heroes have been created and installed on lofty pedestals, while some have been brought down with such force that their pedestals lie shattered to pieces.
Who would imagine that twenty-two men, dressed in flimsy jerseys and shorts, running behind a ball, would be so interesting, so gripping? Who would believe that such play could keep millions, nay billions in its grasp, watching every kick, every move, sighing when one’s favourites are down, and exult when they rise again?
Le Coupe du Monde is not just a symbol of a glorious undertaking, of a magnificent effort; it is the just reward for those who chose not to rest on their past laurels, but forged ahead to receive newer ones. So, it would seem that the Greats forgo their moment of glory, for they were under the illusion of being great, and offered the minnows the chance to shine under the sun, to bask in the warmth of fame.

Italy aren’t first time winners, having won it thrice before in 1934, 1938 and 1982. And yet this victory is special, for it holds the promise of heralding a new era in its domestic football, sort of like the cleansing of the Augean Stables by the floods of the rivers Alpheus and Peneus. France will have another chance after four years, only Zizou will not be there.

Speaking of Zidane, the manner in which he was shown the door was rather unfortunate, and people would say that his behaviour was unwarranted. But given the provocation he faced, maybe this was the least he could have done. True, one expects a man of his calibre to have patience, to forgive the slur as the words of a frustrated man, but then sometimes a slur is just too tortuous a barb at the heart. Many a hearts must have broken at the sight of Zidane retreating to the outer precincts of the ground, many would have wondered whether Les Bleus would be able to grab the Coupe again without the reassuring presence of Zizou. Their doubts came home to roost, and France was denied its place under the sun, and maybe had Zenedine Zidane been there at the penalties, then perhaps it could have been a different story altogether.

The World Cup in 2010 will be a different affair. Most of those whom we saw and fawned over in this session might not be there. And if they be there, it is highly probable that they might be but shadows of their brilliant selves. What one prays and hopes is that the game go on, in its true spirit and that it may confer its grace upon us, and for once, make us believe that we are one people, united in our dreams, in our aspirations!

Prophecies realised!

We stand at the end of an era and on the threshold of a new period of history. Standing on this watershed which divides two epochs of human history and endeavour, we can look back on our long past and look forward to the future that is taking shape before our eyes. Asia, after a long period of quiescence, has suddenly become important again in world affairs.

In this crisis in world history, Asia will necessarily play a vital role. The countries of Asia can no longer be used as pawns by others; they are bound to have their own policies in world affairs. Europe and America have contributed very greatly to human progress and for that we must yield them praise and honour, and learn from them the many lessons they have to teach. But the West has also driven us into wars and conflicts without number, and even now, the day after a terrible war, there is talk of further wars in the atomic age that is upon us. In this atomic age, Asia will have to function effectively in the maintenance of peace.

Strong winds are blowing over all Asia. Let us not be afraid of them, but rather welcome them for only with their help can we build the new Asia of our dreams. Let us have faith in these great new forces and the dream which is taking shape. Let us, above all, have faith in the human spirit which Asia has symbolized for those long ages past.

These words are not of some Prime Minister or President of some Asian nation, made at some global summit in recent times. And even if he/she should have, it wouldn’t be completely inaccurate to claim so. For Asia is truly booming, maybe not entirely, maybe it has a skewed development quotient, but then even the West cannot claim that it conferred the awards of progress upon all its populace evenly at the same time. There are bound to be inequities, differences in the manner in which development progresses. But what needs to be applauded is that progress is being made, in baby steps, but nevertheless being made.
Detractors may say that the absence of a responsive and responsible democracy in China and the presence of an over-responsive Legislature in India don’t augur well for Asia’s future prospects per se. I’d say that things are changing, maybe not at the pace some desire, but it takes time for a mountain to rise from the earth, for a rivulet to transform into a river. So it is with the systems of governance in the above said countries.
Asia is looking great, and this time it’s gearing for a bigger pie of the scheme of things. Somewhere down the line, the words of our mystery speaker are coming true, which brings me back to ‘my’ initial sentence. The speaker was speaking at the Asian Conference in New Delhi. However, this wasn’t in recent times, not even 10 years back, nor 20. On the contrary, this speech was made on March 23, 1947, by the then Prime-Minister-elect, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru. It took a wait of more than 50 years, but finally Nehru’s words are ringing true!

Aventures avec une langue étrangère!

This promises to be perhaps the shortest blog I have ever written. The title of this blog reads as 'Adventures with a foreign language', and yet it doesn't seem all that Greek and Latin to me.
Have joined the enunciation course in French at Alliance Française, and it has been a delight so far. Actually, to be truthful, all that has been covered so far, I have some idea of, as I had attended French lectures in junior college for like two months. But then the delight is not so much in learning a new language, but in how we are learning it.
It's a pretty big group, around 26 including the professor, evenly split between the genders (wonder how that happened, by design or coincidence), and man, is it a load of fun. People coming from diverse backgrounds, both academic and otherwise, just forgetting all that, and just enjoying themselves. Ah, is this life or what? All said and done, Viva le Français!

Inspector's raaz!

It would seem like this is fast becoming a forum for opinions that advocate the government’s exit from all interventionist and restrictive areas of civic governance, and permit the parties concerned to govern, control and restrict themselves. And yet, I see nothing wrong in this.
The captains of Indian industry, in the wake of the Mittal-Arcelor triumph, have asked the government to allow ‘self-certification’ and end the current ‘inspection’ regime, wherein the government assumes the responsibility of maintaining the quality at the industrial facilities, whereas all the industrial doyens are to do is to conform to the government’s policies. The problem lies in the implementation.
The government of India is known for its lackadaisical approach towards structural reforms; so it is futile to expect that the government would have the time to periodically or rather frequently review minutiae of industrial control policy in line with technological advancements and altered local conditions. Also, entrenched political trade unions and vested interests in both the industrial world as also the political system are wont to allow such changes, as they would facilitate the efficiency of the industries, ensuring better remunerations to the employees in the wake of better profits, and it doesn’t take an Einstein to understand that it is impossible to induce a happy workforce to strike work and create trouble.
The proposal entails permitting the inspection system to be retained, but with a diminished role as merely akin to that of an independent auditor. This may even mean that the countless corruption issues arising out of industries trying to impress and please the inspection teams could be reduced substantially, as the inspection teams may no longer have the authority to order cessation of operations. At most, they could recommend the revocation of the industrial license, but that too only in extreme cases.
People are wont to say that industry hasn’t had a very good track record on self-governance, and doesn’t exactly inspire confidence as far as self-certification is concerned. I should like to retort: the Government of many a state doesn’t have a good track record on basic governance, so should we dismantle the system of democratic authority therein and install an autocrat, working on the orders of the Union Government?
Reforming the taxation systems, labour laws, the power policy, et al should be the prime priority of the government, and sadly it finds itself grappling with issues which really could have waited, but were raised by the government itself. Maybe we have started on the process, but it is a long and arduous road, and the faster it is traversed, the better for India.

Superior - Tagore

I happened to come across this poem, and was struck by its simplicity, its beauty. I simply couldn’t resist sharing it with you. Hope you like it as well.

Superior
by Rabindranath Tagore

(This poem is from 'The Crescent Moon' by Tagore)

Mother, your baby is silly!
She is so absolutely childish!

She does not know the difference between
The lights in the streets and the stars.

When we play at eating pebble,
She thinks they are real food, and
Tries to put them into her mouth.

When I open a book before her and
Ask her to learn her a, b, c, she tears the leaves
With her hand and roars for joy at nothing;
This is your baby's way of doing her lesson.

When I shake my head at her in anger and scold her
And call her naughty, she laughs and
Thinks it great fun.

Everybody knows that father is away,
But if in play I call aloud "Father,"
She looks about her in excitement
And thinks that father is near.

When I hold my class with the donkey that our washerman
Brings to carry away the clothes and I warn her that
I am the schoolmaster, she will scream
For no reason and call me dada.

Your baby wants to catch the moon.
She is so funny; she calls Ganesh Ganush.

Mother, your baby is silly!
She is so absurdly childish!

Shall we gag the press?

Draco would be pleased. For those who are wont to mistake this gentleman with Count Dracula, Draco was the first law scribe of ancient Athens. The laws he transcribed were particularly harsh: the death penalty was the punishment for even minor offenses. Any debtor whose status was lower than that of his creditor was forced into slavery. The punishment was more lenient for those who owed their debt to a member of a lower class. The stringency of these laws gave rise to expressions such as ‘draconian punishment’, ‘draconian laws’, and more generally, the far reaching ‘draconian measures’.

Today I read of a plan to be discussed by the Indian Government that could qualify to be termed draconian. This measure aims to give sweeping powers to the bureaucracy to inspect, search and seize equipment, and even prosecute media companies on a mere complaint from an individual, all this without the customary recourse to the judicial appeal process. It also seeks to create a Content Code, and to enforce this Code by prohibiting the transmission of any programme should it not be in conformity with it. Should the media company be deemed to be in violation of the norms, there is a risk of incurring a fine of at most Rs. 50 lakhs, or even suspension or even revocation of the transmission license.

The Indian measure is thankfully still in the draft stage, and may never be tabled in the legislature, considering the sensitivity of the political class to any measure aimed at the suppression of fundamental rights, a sort of reminder of the dark days of the Emergency (1975 – 1977). But, this is hardly the behaviour of a society dedicated to liberty and freedom, and brings back painful memories of a docile Fourth Estate, reluctant to expose the Truth for fear of being trampled underneath the feet of an omnipotent State. Maybe the truth can be inconvenient at times, but it is necessary always. After all, a truth, even an iota away from perfection, is an untruth. That the State even thought it possible that such a proviso could be introduced and that it would become law speaks volumes about their ostrich-headed mentality. Perhaps, the government has lost its touch, its contact with the aam aadmi. The people need a responsible Fourth Estate to expose the flaws in the system, to applaud all that is being good, even if the State should view it to be inconvenient for its interests. Therefore, I hope and pray that those who matter will rally around and defeat this measure in the bud.

There are those who are wont to say that the media needs to be reined in, that it is often seen to take its liberties for granted. I agree, but this isn’t the solution. And it isn’t that the media doesn’t heed the words of the State. One recalls the case of the Tehelka portal, which even in the absence of such a repressive proviso, was ground to dust by the then-incumbent NDA government for having alleged the complicity of the then-Defence Minister in defence scandals. Imagine what could happen if such a proviso had existed then? I agree that the media needs to control its desire to rake up inane issues, merely to raise their viewership figures.

But then don’t push the control part too far. The operative word should be ‘the media’ and not just ‘control’. Let the media establish its own code of conduct, its own norms on how news should be covered, and what news should be focussed on, and what should be just given cursory attention. Let them come together and formulate as to how the media will respond to the needs of society in times of crisis and natural calamities. If in the aftermath of the World Trade Centre bombings, on the mere suggestion (or so they say) of the White House that the bodies not be shown, the media agencies in the States desisted from showing such pictures, then surely the ‘responsive’ and ‘responsible’ Fourth Estate in India can do better.

What say, Dr. Singh?