Month: February 2012

  • Irascible

    In Nayantara Sahgal’s “This Time of Morning” (review later), there is an episode (p 247- 250) where one of the characters recollects the first time he had seen the British’s Divide and Rule policy in action, in the context of religion.

    To summarise, towards the end of 1919, a Swami Satyanand, who had a reputation for his protests and fiery speeches against the British, and was a hero figure in all communities, once began a speech on the steps of the Juma Mosque in Allahabad. He said he had chosen the location because he wanted to emphasise that the name of the faith didn’t matter. With the mullah standing behind him, he began to speak of the messages in the Bhagvad Gita as a rapt crowd listened. The policemen arrived suddenly, and even as the Swami kept saying that the police were ‘our’ brothers and the crowd should stand still, he was attacked, finally collapsing beneath the arch. The mullah wept as he was carried inside, and later, when he came out to announce that the swami was dead.

    The next day, the English dailies carried the news that the Swami had died at the Juma Mosque and insinuated that the Swami had deliberately tried to incite the Muslim community and had died as a result. It also chose to emphasise that mutual seclusion was the only way to peace among the communities, and this was what the government was trying to do. The regional dailies were warned against carrying the news at all. And though Muslims and Hindus joined the procession which ended with the Swami’s pyre being lit by the mullah, none of the dailies covered it.

    The book is a work of fiction though historical figures also play minor roles. But many incidents and scenarios are based on real events, and the above incident seems highly possible. It made me realise that the only perspective we can derive of the events that happened then are from newspaper reports and in some cases, journals/books written by people who lived then. But the latter is not so easy to find, and we mostly rely on the former.

    I read this book during the time that Mr.Sibal was making his infamous censorship statements, and the internet began its #outrage. (Yes, I did 2) The above episode gave me a glimpse of what the internet has achieved in terms of documenting data and what we, and the generations to follow, would be missing out, if censorship came to life. Thankfully, even George W Bush has said “You can’t put democracy and freedom back into a box” 🙂

    until next time, Jaise Har Ek Baat Pe Democracy Me Lagne Lag Gaya Ban 🙂

  • The Inheritance of Loss

    Kiran Desai

    With two main narratives set in Kalimpong and New York, Kiran Desai’s second book is an excellent read which can be viewed from many prisms – the effect of a contact with the ‘west’ on a person used to his Indian-ness, the mess we make of our relationships, our inner conflicts, the way we see ourselves and the reality we choose to accept for ourselves.

    One of the narratives is of Sai, a teen-aged orphan who comes to live with a grandfather who barely knew of her existence, but manages to uncharacteristically accept her presence in his life. The author manages to describe situations and behaviour as seen by her, in a very convincing manner, and I found that a very endearing characteristic of the book. Sai’s grandfather is a retired judge, who after his education in England, developed a contempt for everything Indian, and became a ‘stranger to himself’. His sole companion is Mutt, a dog for whom he has a great affection. The last resident of the household is the cook, whose existence revolves around his son, Biju, who he believes to be in a ‘very good job’ in America.

    The second narrative is of Biju – an illegal alien in New York, forced to move jobs, and live in the worst conditions possible, a far cry from the rosy picture his father imagines. He fights his own conflicts – from cooking beef to interacting with Pakistanis and has a yearning to go back home, where he feels, he can belong. In between, there is also a smaller narrative of the judge’s life before retirement.

    Kiran Desai has an amazing way words – from the way she describes routine household jobs to the view of Kanchenjunga and the mountain foliage, and most importantly, human feelings. She moves seamlessly between places, and even time, and shows a deep understanding of human emotions. Her prose is such that it somehow evokes vivid visuals, and characters you can identify with at a fundamental level. The best part is how she manages to keep the prose flexible enough to accommodate its view from the character involved.

    The book is still and dynamic at the same time, as though mirroring its characters, and it seems as though the author is trying to make a point of the importance of things we choose to disregard as mundane. It is about journeys and our notion of destinations.

    Mixing a backdrop of Gorkhaland militancy with hopeful teen infatuation and managing to convey the facile nature of how we view ourselves – through the main characters, as well as the lives and perceived realities of minor characters like Lola, Noni and Father Booty, and the desperation in them due to the events that surround them, this book seems seeped in misery and unacknowledged yearning, but still manages to give some vague notion of hope, as though there is a basic version of the self that connects all of us, and keeps us ticking.

  • Travel Disco

    Travel Disco is a deal site that focuses only on travel packages. In conversation with founder Sunil Prabhakar….

    [scribd id=82006127 key=key-2oq7x9hgna9ptek4v2 mode=list]

  • Serendipity in the age of data explosions

    One of the reads I look forward to every week is Neil Perkin’s curated list of posts from across the web. And unfailingly, I get at least a couple of articles that offer me food for thought, and in general, giving me much better fare than the two kinds of automated services I am familiar with – one based on my interests, and the other based on my social connections’ shares.

    A fortnight back, two related articles caught my attention – the automation of online advertising and the client side data revolution, both of which point to how user data is going to be harnessed by increasingly efficient tools built by technology companies. Data that goes beyond the cliched demographic criteria and moves towards personalised marketing that encompasses evolving factors like real-time and social.

    This actually made me think of the joys of serendipitous discovery-the kind that happens when I go book shopping (in a real bookstore) and find a book that I had never heard of but am likely to cherish-and its future in a world of ubiquitous and easily manageable data.

    And guess what I found in Neil Perkin’s list last week – this amazing post at HBR about AmEx’s Nextpedition – a travel service that doesn’t have an itinerary and instead is full of surprises. Towards the end of the article is a clue on how the future could create a well crafted mix of the two – to deliver randomness we will have to be on better terms with randomness. Powered by massive amounts of data, an experience that will be exactly the right measure of customised randomness.

    until next time, a cliched appendage – serendipity 2.0. 🙂

  • A life less lived..

    Quite a while back, I remember writing about people who, despite their circumstances, continue to plod on through life, not giving up on it. I ended it with a quote from ‘The Hurt Locker’ by James ‘Everyone’s a coward about something.‘ I added that sometimes it’s life, and sometimes it’s death.

    I was reminded of this when I read about the Goa couple‘s suicide and another one closer home – a person I knew, if only for a few months – one which came as a rude shock. In the first case, Anand Ranthidevan and his wife Deepa took a very deliberate and seemingly well thought through decision to end their lives, planned down to the last detail. The label I’ve heard several times in conversations – real and virtual – is disturbed. I don’t subscribe to that, it’s probably the reaction from a society which just cannot accept that people without any troubles could really make a conscious decision to end their lives. I can actually identify with it because in conversations with friends, I’ve toyed with the idea of driving off a cliff at say 55-60, when a life has been lived fully.

    But just like the question in the earlier post – why people continued to plod on, I am interested in the flip side too. Why do people choose to end it? In situations where the individual is troubled by something – physical/emotional/under the influence of a drug, there is probably a point where he/she feels the problem cannot be solved, and chooses to end the journey.

    The Goa incident is different because the individuals were in their prime, at least in terms of age. When sports personalities, actors etc retire at the ‘right’ time, they sometimes use the ‘Why retire now vs Why don’t you retire now’ line. Can one think of life that dispassionately? Probably, if one knew what lay after, or if one didn’t care, or thought it wasn’t worth the effort. Or when one felt that one’s existence didn’t matter to anyone but the self. Or maybe there when there was no problem worth solving. What do you think?

    until next, life </span>