The Indian Shitizen*

Cut-Paste: 2007, the year Delhi's trees were massacred

2008-01-20T23:54:00.000-08:00

And Sheila Dikshit does it again and again and again. By the time the Hon'ble Chief Minister of Delhi goes out of power, she would have raped the city of its water, its trees and every single thing that makes Life. At times, she is so much like a locust, sucking life out and destroying everything. Delhi had always been known for its greenery... But if this lady and her so-called development loving government are not stopped, there won't be much recognisable in the city that was once Indraprastha. For those NOT aware of Sheila's other development plans -- Yarra to Yamuna anyone? -- please follow these links.

Commonwealth Games 2010: The real-estate and environment SCAM

1. Games village: Delhi's death trap
2. Games village: Flouting ALL environmental laws
3. Games village: Sitting duck for disaster
4. Games village: The REAL estate SCAM
5. INTERVIEW with Sheila Dikshit: 'Delhi should be second to none' (at what cost?)

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From the blog: Parvinder's Space
As the National Capital prepares to usher in the New Year, the year that steps into the past will be remembered most for the massacre of thousands of trees of Delhi that have seen many New Years come and go.

An unofficial count of the trees felled in the past four to five years is estimated to be around 40,000, the official figures are not forthcoming and vary as per the individual departments. However, the felling in the year 2007 was the most brazen and painful, as the chainsaw drew closer and closer into the very heart of the city's green lungs, with the trees planted when the capital was envisioned, and some even older, were cleared for the High Capacity Bus Service (HCBS) corridors and road-widening.

The needs of a "transport plan" to see the light of the day made the Delhi Government sacrifice its green heritage, even at the cost of losing its most recognised character and rejecting concerns of eminent citizens, who rallied together through a petition against the felling

But the outcry against slaughter of old neighbourhood trees was answered by Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit, heading a government that up to now has projected a strong green image, by stating that the trees will have to go and the citizens of Delhi will have to sooth themselves with images of planned sapling plantations on the outskirts of the National Capital Territory.

Many present at the meeting kept fumbling for an answer to the question of what happens to our neighbourhood trees, right where we live?

The meeting with the Delhi Chief Minister was a high point for a citizen's forum, "Trees for Delhi", that sprung up almost spontaneously and grabbed media attention through very visible candlelight vigils at traffic intersections along the route of the proposed HCBS.

The trees of Delhi, gained a voice and the attention shifted to the neighbourhood trees. From housewives, to students and from the local vendors to academics, all began reacting through various platforms. A singular demand that was raised by this very diverse movement was "Plan around the trees and not without them".

While the chainsaw massacre continued in the capital, surveys were done by volunteers to show that the trees were being felled and chocked unbated as the planners, officials and contractors saw them as dispensable items in a city starved for space. The markings were wrong, trees were being cut mistakenly, machine were ramming into the exposed roots of those still left.

Remember the headline grabbing incident of 1,000 trees to be axed for a rugby match? For those who are willing to axe thousand trees without a blink for an exhibition match, trees have little meaning, global warming or not.

Different parts of the city started witnessing silent residents suddenly step out to claim the ownership of the city's green space. Retired civil servants and housewives started informing press and demanding answers. Some even physically stopped the felling, forcing the contractors to seek the cover of the dark to pace up the massacre.

The debate of transport versus trees was resurrected, by transport planners, who so far have failed in offering any hopes of a usable mass transport on the roads of Delhi. Trees of Delhi became, enemy of the grand plan for a seamless flow of cars and buses that will run on a platform one day.

A conversation between those talking for the trees and those cutting them never really took-off, as the planners never believed that the trees ever had a chance. Call it the death of reason or something deeper, while thousands of trees were cut this year, and many more will continue to be felled, we will wait a long while to see the strange and deadly diversions on Delhi roads to metamorphose the Capital into a world class city one day.

Cut-Paste from: Itching To Write

2008-01-16T22:19:00.000-08:00

Lurking somewhere, another citizen, do read her. No she didnt ask to be promoted, just 'found' her.

Take you for a Ride

A unique initiative by residents of Valmiki Nagar Chennai... They have 10 Lift points within Valmiki Nagar where they have placed signs with their logo. Participating residents also sport the logo on their vehicle. Anyone needing a ride may stand at any of the lift points and request the participating vehicle to stop, at their discretion of course. Interesting idea that could be adopted by any colony. Wonderful chance for people to socialize. Great for the environment. No more hassles over auto fare. Wonder how they take care of the logistics. I mean anyone could get the logo made and use it to con people or abduct.. I am getting filmy here but possibilities are there....

Read full post: Itching to write a blog

Lesson 30: Welcome to the rat race

2007-12-05T06:49:00.001-08:00

Hello Readers,
Those who are there, those who are not. Sab chalta hai?
Will make this sweet: Welcome back. As with all good intentions, hope this carries on without too many breaks. First post after the first silence has been written by our old mate Sahasra Shatru, Hyderabad.Meanwhile, Delhi felt tremors a week back. Area of origin, near abouts the Commonwealth Games 2010 Village site. And the audacious silence continues…

WHERE DID YOU WANT TO GO?
- Sahasra Shatru
My ex-comrades-in-arms have an interesting approach to life now... Once they delved deeper into the business of making money and discovered the beauty of life deliver goods at the terms they wanted. These were the same guys who had brainstormed over a cup of iced tea or a glass of rum. They had expressed dismay at state of things and had relate stories of their conquests over even the 'little' injustices they witnessed whether at work, while commuting, near their townships, in government offic and with neighborhood morons. These were the guys who had sparks in their eyes that could have set a nation afire. They had lived for ideas and fought for them. These were the same people who once, would have jumped at the idea of any organization that tried for any change.

Then they branched out to their various professions. They started facing bigger troubles, perhaps tried to fight them. Some alone and some with allies, groups or organizations. Suddenly, they stayed quiet when 'such' topics were discussed. Life's 'sober phase' had dawned upon them.
“Life is not a morning walk, sir, it is a race” – they now quote enthusiastically from the movie Metro, that they could watch having commuted by their second car and spent Rs 150 per head in a multiplex, and not feel the pinch on the pocket. “You have to stop looking microscopically, which magnifies trifle things but ignores the big picture”. “Grow up”. They do not call me to attend parties any more for fear of my inadvertently creeping conversations on “issues”.

The more philosophical of the crop goes on saying that it is only that we have to grow so powerful that these things cannot touch us. Have so much money that neither police, nor infrastructure or the lack of it, nor politicians or economic policies can affect our scheme of things. Gain contacts, spend money, become powerful, and you don’t have to live in India even as you live in the “Geographical India”. Pay for the media or police or municipal officials just
like you pay for event managers of birthday parties, and watch the drama unfold, where you are the scriptwriter. Enjoy the fruits of your labor instead of trying to harvest a sterile crop. And then, when you have ensconced yourself comfortably in seats of power, money, fame, and influence, and if you find time, can unravel your grand schemes of “social work” and watch things materialize.You wont have to taste frustration then, as you do now with every battle.

As I heard “social work” in that context, I felt dizzy, my head spinning, felt sick, almost threw up. It is only much later that the amusement dawned on me of why such fine examples of humankind in our “Jamboodweepam”; inheritors of the great civilization that taught the world mathematics, logic, yoga, and philosophy have been reduced to shrewd businessmen, successful in personal endeavors yet mere mute spectators to injustices and gross corruption. The arguments were flawless, “If you have a private aircraft, your schedules are not contingent on airline delays”. The brilliance of the arguments and the soundness of the logic somewhere led me through the alleys of baffling awe to the realization of the pregnant evil. It is not wrong to be callously selfish, and neither is it necessary to be involved in every issue that affects “you” as a category. It is the resources that you can realize for yourself to create personal immunity that matters in a life – so short, and so painful otherwise. It is power to do things that matter to you that you should be after, and then, probably, can try to engage in activities such as are perceived to be social in nature.

I saw the big picture like Keanu Reeves was enlightened about the agents and the architecture of the world. There is the catch 22 situation that will make you so firmly interwoven in the filth of convenient existence by then that you wouldn’t care much and then, some times, in a charged emotional situation when you come out of cinema theaters, that buried bug of conscience springs up, bringing you to tears if you are a sensitive person or a sudden flow of adrenaline and you will go out clapping your hands and feeling so good for having watched that film that espouses such wonderful ideas woven in a beautiful narrative construct – that the collective psychodynamic construct suddenly feels exhilarating patriotism - and you can go home, sit relaxed in designer couches washing down the dinner with nice premium brandy in crystal ware, as you watch late night news while the remote plays god with the set, jumping portals from entertainment to sensational stings, titillating you for the sexual content in it, and you long for more. You stretch on the bed, and probably do not want to have sex – with all that stress of handling business, people, money, busy schedules, frequent flying, credit cards and the next most popular car, you
probably have developed erectile dysfunction, or loss of libido.

Anyways, you can now afford 18-year-old ‘prostitutes’ (my apologies for using that word – because ‘you’ do not think they are ‘prostitutes’, but upper middle class college girls looking for the little extra bit of luxury and a good time). Your wife has sagging skin, like the contours on the political landscape of youth wings of parties of regional and national character, despite her frequent visits to the spa, parlor, and the surgery that you could so easily afford for the tucks. You get up in the morning and get charged with life. Your car is so beautifully equipped with perfumed conditioning and shocks that the drainage that overflows, mixed like colors on Vincent Van Gogh’s palate with the rainwater being splashed on walls, pedestrians, and children just
adds a pleasant sound of squish, intermittently enhancing the RJ’s garrulous endeavors on some channel named after some spice. And the cycle follows.

‘You’ will probably still socialize with ‘me’ (the category), and probably sympathize with me, what with the hangover of that film and all and say, we could do something. And there are tax exemptions for donating to charitable organizations, which have the likes of people at the steering wheel who say, “Dear Sir, the institution is charitable, not the people who run it”. You need power to do some things, and when you have gained it, you need to do other things to
preserve it. You will need to protect your image, ensure the perpetuation of influence and the continuation of resource channels. You are that Pig of the Animal Farm that started out to be some thing else. You are the PIG that has lost its conscience and concept for want of things that could be achieved even otherwise, without having to eat shit. You began somewhere, and somewhere on the path, you found the shortcut strewn with flowers more colorful and the terrain less demanding. You have reached a destination alright, but is it where you wanted to go?

PS: Initially, I considered editing the piece - as is custom - I did edit a bit. Let it be then, for there were couple of things I wanted to add... decided to state my views here. Sometimes, power and wealth breed a strange mistrust around them... the more you have it, the more people expect you to misuse it and thereby assume that you MUST be using it. It's perhaps idealistic (or stupid) to think that those in power or with wealth do not want to help out/do their bit/as you like it; or that they would "only if" they "found" the time. Perhaps, who knows? There are those with the power and money who do their bit and there are those who don't. Power by itself perhaps does have a certain bit of corruption in it's nature; more to do with what it puts you through than any other sinister connotation. Hmm. I would want power. Yes, would like to help WITH the power than without it. Each to his/her own? -- JB

You got cold feet?

2007-12-03T23:17:00.000-08:00

Some have been waiting, some have not... I have been writing and thinking, without putting up my words or my thoughts out here. Shrug. Shitizen is on, or rather, this citizen is on... But is waiting for something... what exactly, I don't know yet. But I will find out and write back. Meanwhile, this email came in a few minutes back: am responding here. My responses in red.
rgds
JBo

Hi,

Recently I was fumbling with my firefox browser options and accidentally tripped on this bookmark labeled "The Indian Shitizen". Kindly excuse the sarcasm but then whats happening with the blog?
1) Have you got cold feet?
No, uterus problems that make it tough to sit up and write.

2) Is it becoming a professional hazard?
No, technical one since laptop crashed and am scared to operate it at the risk of losing my data.

3) Your parents disapprove of it?
They are quite proud, but would appreciate more thought and more participation from others as well.

4) You find the subject uninteresting now?
Silly question.

5) etc. etc.
Answered above: ALSO, for those showing concern, i am deeply touched. Would be even more so, if along with well-worded emails, some well-worded posts and thoughts vis-a-vis the Shitizen are also sent in.

I can understand time constraints. If its so, at least write that as a NOTE.

Sorry to barge in your personal space like this but as a regular shitizen I suppose I have a right to know (or let you know)

Lesson 29: Charansparsh... We can stoop reallly low!

2007-10-26T01:36:00.000-07:00

This post has been written by Citizen Kavitta

The reason for us to be there: To get an interview of the CM. We were doing this story on the Commonwealth Games Village. A story about how the banks of the poor Yamuna are falling prey to the greed of some influential well-connected people. A story about how the fragile, ecologically sensitive river bed is getting consumed, first in the name of God with the Akshardham and now in the name of development with the Commonwealth Games Village.

Anybody who is a Somebody was there. That was the day when the palatial lawns of the CM's house were open to the Khaas Admi. The vote bank or the people who could generate the vote bank. Some 500-odd people; young and old, politicians and political aspirants, men and women, industrialists and beauticians. Hindu fanatics and Musalman Fundamentalists. We were the only two people there who were the actual aam admi.

But wasn't this the same CM that we had elected five years back? Why was she available to only a selected people and that too only on a special day? Why did it take us a week to get an interview that we wanted to air for the public? Why meeting the same CM – who we, the aam admi elected – an almost impossible task? We were not there out of choice. There was no commonality – except perhaps one – in all those were present. They all had the same desire: Madam ke pair choone hain. Madam ke saath photo khinchwana hai. Sole motive: Madam ko khush karna hai. (Have to touch madam’s feet. Have to get clicked with madam. Have to make madam happy.)

The party went on. Silver-haired men and women, children in all sizes, their mothers, everyone had this sudden pang, to touch the CM’s feet every time she came out of her Special Enclosure (The enclosure: A brilliantly white shamiana, with twinkling fairy lights meant for the special invitees, the 'more' influential and the 'more' powerful). The aroma of good biryani and tender kebabs filled the air. It took special security services to protect this space from the visiting throngs and visiting bats.

I was in awe. Wondering what was everybody up to. And why? I always knew that ‘this’ happened. I always knew that the pair choona policy was the only way the politics of this country functioned. To see any, especially this performance LIVE was a warped celestial experience. Big stars and small, the politicians, were performing: Continuous, uninterrupted performances with utmost brilliance. One star falling down to another's feet and rising; shining brighter with the I-am-suddenly-more-powerful look. This repeated, bending-double action lasted for over four hours.

Caught between the shooting stars and falling ones were us.

I tried to justify: We are a country with temples for film stars and the Chief Minister should them belong to more hallowed circles. She was our leader, our big GOD. She had the power to turn, immortalise other non-Gods into smaller gods when they touched her feet. I wondered: Could I be the next youth leader if I touched her feet enough enough number of times at such iftars? The concept of Parmeshwar suddenly became clearer.

Maybe this is a country progressing. From the days of black and white movies with their pallu-covered, milk-glass bearing woman, a sati-savitri, now we have a woman as our CM, our God. She is neither sati nor savitri. She is a woman in power and the men touch her feet instead. My head was in a mess: Wanting to accept, to ignore or just wanting to forget about the interview and run. But we couldn’t: This was the Chief Minister of Delhi. We had pitched really hard for this interview. We stay.

We stand in a corner quietly while the others are busy putting up this act. She notices, walks up to us almost five in the middle of the chaos and insists we eat. There are biryani and kebabs goddammit. She invites us inside the Special Enclosure. We insist each time we need the interview first.

After her second invitation to join in the enclosure, even the others started approaching us. Primarily to find out who we were and WHY their God was so interested in us. Others came, some just to drop in their visiting cards others with their visiting stories. One needed to talk about other politicians, another one wanted to show off his community initiative and the third wanted to report a scam being perpetrated by a man in a green kurta. Apparently, someone really big’s son.

People now start to bend double for us, this time with their hands folded in a namaste. Probably I was mistaken about being the Aam Admi. Probably after the politicians the media is God. Probably they could not tolerate my harem pants anymore.(hahahaha) Probably they are showing us the way out. No. They were inviting us to eat! I did understand it was another trick to please the CM. Impress people she talks to.

We got the interview. The CM nearly convinces us that Delhi, now a developed city is the best place in the world to say. Water problems were a thing of the past. The year 2010 will see a new face of Delhi, courtesy the Commonwealth Games. We eat in the white enclosure, food perhaps bought with the taxpayer’s money. My money. I enjoy and appreciate the biryani and her charm and hospitality work on me. The charisma of the woman who had for years been a mother, a home-maker and a true politician hits me in the face. I feel a sense of her power too.

I don’t want to think of the Yamuna, it’s still flowing, can’t we eat first? The aroma of power and food was intoxicating me. I felt part of some episode of Star Wars. Colleagues from rival channels were curious to know our special status to be sitting inside the special enclosure. Overfriendly people, sweet people, nice people, they were going out of their way to socialise with us. As we leave, the CM gives us a little bow and thanks us for coming. And oh my god, I am not the part of the crowd... I am the new God. I too was bitten by the power bug. Thank you madam ji aap ki kripa hai; ab hum bhi bhagwan hain. Charansparsh.

Liar, liar, pants on fire OR…

2007-10-24T01:10:00.000-07:00

The river bleeds black

Circa September 2007: River bank, semi-naked men, soaking gods

It’s noon when we reach the banks of the river. And yet the harsh sun cannot pierce its black waters. It’s disgusting to think I wash my face with this water every morning. The government says it ‘treats’ this water. The government says many things.

There is a flash of blue in the water. It’s a polythene bag from the fancy store, Westside. A flash of gold. A recently immersed idol of Ganesha; next to a lump of…. One had recently eaten and did not want to verify that lump. Splash! A boy dives in… right amidst the plastic, Ganesha and lump. Only the top of his head and eyes can be seen. Then he goes under the surface of the water. Under the lump.

He comes out two minutes later and spits out something. What? He swims back and holds out his hand. A cube of some sort of metal rests on his palm. Apparently, devotees throw these cubes into the river and the boy (and more such boys) dives in to pull these out. The cubes sell at Rs 70 a kilogram and are inscribed with words, alphabets and symbols. One of the inscribed words is Ram. But the government says there is no Ram. The government says many things.

“Eww,” she says, holding her packet to throw in the river. “I didn’t know the river was this dirty,” she says to friend, as she pays another boy to immerse her Ganesha amid the floating lumps. “So don’t add to it then,” one had opened one’s big mouth again and instantly felt like a lump. “I know,” she said, with a weird look on her face, clutching her polythene packet tighter, “… I work for an NGO; but, years of habit, religion… Where else do we immerse our gods then?” Where indeed: The Arabian Sea, Hoogli, Ganga, are all taken. Teesta perhaps? We have many rivers, much water, says the government. The government says many things.

Flashback April 2007: Home, toilet flush, boiling babies

The nameplate reads, “So-and-so, DRYCLEANER.” This person’s neighbours are a butcher, three auto-drivers, Mishraji and yours truly, having recently moved to the colony. Most others have lived together for the last two decades or more. They ‘share’ everything: Parking space, water and cable connections and even helpfully borrow from each other’s electricity supply. But things changed.

Mishraji – in one of his let’s-read-the-paper-loudly-for-no-one moods – announced that our locality was one amongst many more to have ‘some’ water trouble. This was before Mishraji still read newspapers and had not declared violently that they were only good for thwacking people. So we had water trouble. Mishraji broke his back lugging water buckets. Mrs Mishraji cracked her voice rationing the water. Mishraji got into a fight with Colonol Sahab – lives on the floor above the Mishras – because the Colonel’s pots were overflowing while Mishraji’s Sintex-tank was dry. The drycleaner’s year-old baby erupted in ugly, pink boils because there was not much water to wash the baby properly. All private water tankers refused to enter the colony because they were beaten at the gates and the water was stolen.

One needed water as well and lugged two buckets of water every morning and evening. Water conservation is an art. One would stand inside one bucket and bathe, to reuse that water to flush the toilet. One considered using the open fields for further water conservation but was daunted by the sheer numbers already heading towards the fields. A good idea always has many takers. And the government says Delhi has no water shortage. The government says many things.

Circa October 2007: Sheila Dikshit’s iftar party

We stood there patiently, in dirty jeans and harem pants while the other media and bedecked politicians clamoured for Delhi Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit’s attention and her feet. The media bent high and low for the right angle, the visitors bent low for her benedictions. Everybody smiled, everybody ate and the Chief Minister posed with everyone, for everyone. With you, for you, always.

All people fit on her lawn and there was room for more. It was a huge lawn. It was moist. One saw sprinklers. They could perhaps fill 18 buckets of water. “Not now,” the Chief Minister told my colleague as our paths happened to cross. Happened to, because while we had not changed our standing-spot since entering her manicured lawns, the Chief Minister’s frequency of appearing exactly where we stood and generally looking in our direction had increased. Perhaps it was because we were the most inappropriately dressed for a party at the Chief Minister’s house. We didn’t know the Chief Minister would invite us for a party; she had so far refused any interview. We wanted a byte, she offered bites instead.

Five hours later, she spoke to us. She said development was needed for Delhi. Development for her means the Commonwealth Games village. It’s on the riverbed of a dead, black river. But the Chief Minister and her government say the river will be cleaned. The government says many things. The games village is also being built on a fault-line that will lead to earthquakes. But the Chief Minister says, “development has to take place.” The Chief Minister says a lot of things.

The Commonwealth Games village will also concretize the last ground-water recharge zone in the capital, the floodplains of the black river. But the Chief Minister says Delhi has no water trouble. Of course there are none in her house. The Chief Minister says adequate trees will be planted, so far no plans have been heard. We have proof the government doesn’t have the approvals. The Chief Minister says she has all. The Chief Minister says a lot of things.

PS1: And we believe her. Why?
PS2: READ the official stories -- we did two parts -- Delhi's death trap and Games village, sitting duck,
see the VIDEO 1 & VIDEO 2 and
the PROOF that we got for YOU (please go to end of story to read the documents). Decide for yourself.
Does the Chief Minister say the right things?

Lesson 28: And Dijkstra says...

2007-10-08T23:35:00.000-07:00

"The average customer of the computing industry has been served so poorly that he expects his system to crash all the time, and we witness a massive worldwide distribution of bug-ridden software for which we should be deeply ashamed." -- Prof. E.W. Dijkstra, from The End of Computing Science

Hello Readers,
Again, profusely apologise for irregular (read non-daily) updates, as stuff at work demands more attention and of course, laptops being laptops, mine has decided to behave more like a temperamental boyfriend (who needs to be dumped). And yes, talking laptops… this post is contributed by our new contributor Useless Banter. She, in her own words, is a computer scientist and NOT a software engineer. (Smiles)
So here we go, something different, something technical and something that she reworked twice. The mention of algorithms gives me heebeegeebees. Also, thanks to Useless Banter for shifting the links-to-follow at the end of the article instead of punctuating the text with links. Do read those, quite interesting… even to someone who has been way scared of vectors and algorithms since class 11! Happy reading. Also, for those contributing articles, please remember: Short sentences make for far better and easier reading than rambling sentences that run into four lines. Also, Useless Banter’s copy was the most spelling-error free. Do run a spell-check on your files before sending me; I will still check for spelling errors, but a little help from you greatly reduces boring editing. I do it for a living, you know, so would LOVE to not do it here.
_____________________________________________________________
Here is what Useless Banter has to say:

A recent article on The Indian Shitizen about the Great Indian Software Engineer who is really the "Bechara Software Engineer" got me into some serious soul searching. That, combined with influences of some of the recent lectures of the professor teaching my Advanced Distributed Computing class, made me think: Why not put my "higher" MS degree-education to some use, and look at this problem – like a good scientist would – from a research perspective.

So although I agree to most of the things said about the people encompassed under the umbrella of "software engineers" in the article, myself included, I would like to conduct myself in the spirit of a true Computer Scientist. Basically, it means I would like to tie this discussion to a more interesting and perhaps more productive analysis by turning attention to the question of: "What real value can software engineers bring towards ensuring mature thought processes in problem solving?" (Think "algorithms"!!!....)

Basically, what role can Software Engineers (ugh!! I hate that term, so shall stick to the personally-preferred ‘Computer Scientist’) play, in inventing novel approaches that can solve fundamental problems in any scenario? Say, even one such as making an underdeveloped nation wrought with problems, become an efficient developed nation?

As its most preliminary steps this process actually involves a lot of reading between the lines, quality research and a special genre of laziness. Yes, a laziness that can effectively cause sharp research minds to come up with elegant solutions and novel ideas such as the shortest path algorithm [2][3]. For this, even if we have to change our education system, which is currently engaged in the task of producing ‘clones’, then so be it. We shall have to be lazy enough to reject the ‘standard’ paradigms given to us, and create an education system that teaches people to be truly lazy, i.e. by "inventing".
Will sign off with this quote, as food for thought, from a paper by Dijkstra [4] (in which he presents his views on the flaws in Computer Science education. Nevertheless, it has a lesson about education in general, so it is a must-read):

"The usual way in which we plan today, for tomorrow, is in yesterday's vocabulary". -- Prof. E.W. Dijkstra

We need just a few hundred people in the nation from our vast pool of software engineers that think like Dijkstra[1]. Are the computer scientists listening?
Best,
Useless Banter

PS1: My contribution as a bechara software engineer towards this end: Pledging that I will not be bechara any more. I will (at least try to) get a PhD degree that advances a computing concept, and start a personal venture that provides a tangible solution while providing employment to others, or even a revolution if you will, and not just be happy to take up an offshoring job with a multinational. What's yours?
PS2: Next lesson - Distributed Computing (read "Effective Management of Distributed Resources")

References:
1. Edsger W. Dijkstra
2. Shortest path problem
3. Dijkstra's algorithm
4. Dijkstra's views on Computer Science education and his rant on the irony presented by "radical novelty" (hand-written) / (transcribed)
Appendix 1 - What computing science is about
Appendix 2 - Dijkstra's "EWD" series

Lesson 27: Did my father murder Rizwanur Rehman?

2007-10-04T12:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Papa, hope you don't misunderstand this, if and when you do read this.

I had always thought it was Papa's 'over-protectiveness' that made him dislike the idea of me talking or befriending any boy. I say 'boy' because the first memories of Papa reacting adversely to any male company around me goes back 20 years...

I was 9-years-old and the said boy was 12. We were stationed at Jabalpur (Madhya Pradesh), one of the cities where any Ordinance officer will spend a considerable part of his tenure. This boy was a visiting relative of one of our neighbours. He was about two inches taller than me, had nearly blonde hair (called it 'English' hair back then) and very, very red lips. So he would play with us and we became playground friends. Till the day he pecked me on the cheek for some reason and there was "scandal" amongst the kids. I promptly reported the transgression to the Aunty whose house he was staying in; who in turn 'apologised' to my mother. That should have been that, only that Papa decided to have a mini-talk with me (over the years the length of those chats grew, much to my alarm).

The only thing Papa said was, "You stay away from that boy, he is not a good boy. All these Punjabi boys." After that I stayed away from 'Punjabi' boys for a long time. Till Papa found that one of my closest friends was a Tamil boy. Then he said, "All these Tamil boys..." and then it was "All these Jat boys..." and 'Nepalis', 'Sardars' and 'Christians' and so on and so forth. Towards the fag end of adolescence I realised that Papa perhaps just did not like boys. Or boys who were my friends.

It was confirmed when I heard him telling Ma, "Ei je mein, ekta jhola-pora Marxist dhore aan be... nahole tattoo-kora Panjabi ke" (This girl will either get us a jhola-clad Marxist or a tattooed Punjabi boy) When I was getting close-to-marriageable, Ma said, very concerned, "Whatever you do, don't bring us a Christian, Muslim or Sikh." I pointed out that given Papa's restrictions and now hers added to it, there wouldn't be any/ many men left to marry. I had suggested a Nigerian and a horrified mother had said, "Bachcha gulo koto kaalo hobe". (The kids will be so dark). Funny because I am bloody dark-skinned too. Back then, it was a joke.

My father also had a gun (two actually, licensed) and would often say that if I got him a "bugger" he didn't like, he would use it freely. Papa never used that gun (or perhaps I was smarter). But many fathers do use their guns. Or hire thugs and policemen to yield their guns. They kill Jat-sikh boys for marrying a 'Pappa-Sikh' girl -- I still don't know the difference but three years in Amritsar taught me there was 'some' difference. Or a newly-wed couple because one of them is a 'Dalit'. Or a Muslim, Calcutta-based graphic designer called Rizwanur because he married a girl called Priyanka, Hindu.

Sometimes these MURDERS are called mob violence. Sometimes Panchayat justice. Sometimes they are labelled honour killings. It is supposedly honourable to slaughter your child. Wah. Sometimes -- like in the case of Rizwanur Rehman -- the Police Commissioner (Calcutta) calls it a suicide. It is not about the poor. The more money you have, the more you seem concerned about HOW you appear to society. The more you have to protect your 'honour'.

It is not even about people falling in love. It is about Hate. You just hate if someone wears a patka, or a skull-cap or a janeyu. We hate the "spineless and loud" Bengalis. We hate the "crude" Jats. We hate the "dosa-loving Mallus". We hate the "converting" Christians. We hate the "bloody uncouth" Biharis. We hate the "stingy-stinky" Maharashtrians. Wherever we can find ANY reason, we hate. And we murder.

And the lawmen of this country, the protectors', they commit these murders. Sometimes the police reach the site late. Sometimes they don't find witnesses. Sometimes they drag people behind their motorcycles. Sometimes they watch many being massacred. And in Rizwanur's case, it seems the policemen, the bloody protectors, are the murderers. WHY? Because a poor boy loved a rich girl... or a Muslim boy loved a Hindu girl?

Our attitudes are so clear. Team India whopped Team Pakistan in the T20 series. I got two messages on my cellphone. One read, "Chak de India, **** de Pakistan" and the other... The other commented on certain anatomically missing parts and how "we" took care of the rest. Wonder what Zahir Khan and the Pathan brothers have to say about it or if they are lesser players for missing anatomy.

And yet, no posts will bring Rizwanur back.

_________________________________________

Praanadhika from Elaan sent me this --- ALL those in Calcutta or those who know people in Calcutta, please inform, PLEASE join. It's not about religion. It's about MURDERING someone who had as much right to life as you and me. Whether Hindu or Muslim.

We believe that Justice is a Constitutional right for every living being, regardless of nationality, caste, religion etc. What happened with Rizwanur Rehman and the circumstances that surrounded his untimely death have raised both hackles and questions. We want answers, fair and just ones. We don't care about the politics behind it, we don't care about the big guns with their (bigger) mouths.. we care about what matters at the end
of the day - Human Dignity. However, since violence and war only lead to more of the same, we have chosen to join hands with some fellow crusaders outside St. Xaviers College, Park Street as part of a silent and peaceful candlelight vigil in Rizwanur's memory. The Elaan supported vigil will be held from 6AM to Midnight on Wednesday October 10th outside St.Xavier's College. Many of you might have read about the candlelight vigil in the papers or seen photographs of it in the papers. It is part of a 100 day protest for justice and it would mean a lot to the people of this city if you could devote just 2 hours of your time to it. If you are interested in being a part of the Justice for Rizwanur Campaign, please email - elaanspeak@yahoo.co.in / mansi@trisyscom.com

PS: My househelp and companion is a Muslim. The other day, while oiling my hair, she said, "Didi, some Hindus in our colony had a fight with some Muslim boys. The Hindu boys threw bottles in my house. I am scared." She works very hard, pays a huge rent because she does not want to stay in a jhuggi (slum/ghetto) and wants to send her 6-year-old son to college someday. The 'fight' took place somewhere near Connaught Place. We live near Vasant Kunj. So WHY her house? I am scared too. ---- J Bo

Lesson 26: It is always YOUR fault.

2007-10-04T01:04:00.000-07:00

This post was written by our new contributor Citizen Kavitta. When she’s not writing for us – hoping she will write a lot – she masquerades as a rule-abiding, blame-shifting producer on various cracking TV shows. In her spare time, she wonders about the blame. I like her style of writing. Do read on… Welcome, Citizen Kavitta.

________________________________________________

The favourite pass time of us Indians is to shift the blame. We blame the Rams and the Rahims. The divisions, the states, the politics, the castes. We blame because it is always someone else’s fault. My neighbour is responsible for the dirty street outside my house. Well, it doesn't matter if some kachra is mine too but my neighbour's kachra is definitely more. It has to be, because I am blaming him.

I blame LK Advani for raising the Ram-issue and further dividing this country on religious grounds. My best friend is a Muslim. See I have done my bit, I am a secular citizen. The Advanis and the Modis are to be blamed because they are ones who started it. It doesn’t matter if my voice could be the one of the many smaller voices that might just end it. But of course I keep quiet. It doesn't matter that my blood boils if Karunanidhi challenges my faith... Why should I? I am not to be blamed.

And it’s not just religion or garbage where the shift-the-blame attitude comes through. It is also leading us to the end of the ‘relationship age’.

Today, we decide to end the relationship that might mean the world to us… Again, we blame the other. Some of the smallest and the strangest things turn around and stand in our faces after we have already finished playing the blame game. I will not blame it all on my ex- boyfriend because he never understood nor did he have the brains (or balls) to do so; even the fact that he was two-timing me. His ex-girlfriend decided to linger on. Did the woman never get the message? Uff, what a spineless woman! Of course it is not my fault, I was always there you see. So what if I refuse to stoop down to the levels the other woman did to win him back? I am not the type of woman to play games. I am a simple woman. So simply, I blame her.

I come out happy after watching Chak De. Bingo! Here we are back to feeling true Indians months after the Rang De Basanti euphoria. After RDB, we raved about the potential of the youth, the power Generation X (or Y, Z, theta). Back then our blood had boiled (for a bit) and we were euphoric (for a bit). Then the 'Indian Youth' was out on the streets to get justice for Jessica Lall. All through the protest marches, we blamed the inefficient judiciary, the politicians and blamed the 70 mm for shaking us out of our slumber.

Today, yet another 70 mm bonanza gives me the same orgasm. Again I come out of the theater: A proud Indian wanting to change the face of the country. Again I blame the game of cricket for hogging the limelight. And the cricketers for not playing hard enough despite the big bucks they earn. Again I blame the babus sitting on the top. I blame the systems, not just for the bad state of the hockey team but also because the public transport is so bad that I can not find an auto to take me back home and I don't want to get into a bus.

The problem is not even me. It’s genetic you see. I was three years old when the '84 riots happened. Delhi shook. My parents blamed Indira Gandhi. Circa 2007. My parents blame Indira Gandhi yet again. Each time their normal, 9-5 lives are thrown off the track. That is when the seedling of the 'I Blame You' emotion germinated and infected the 'youth'.

Over the years I learnt to blame the municipality for no water, the traffic police for jam-packed roads. No electricity? Why couldn't the government do something about it? My maid was illiterate and still is. I don't have time to teach her – and neither do you – why can't we have a system in place to educate the poor? Oh, did I say poor? Well, it is her fault that she is poor. I continue to go to the best school; it’s not my fault! Basically, I learnt to blame. If I did not do my homework I simply said there was no electricity. “Sorry ma'am, not my fault.” Surprisingly, my teacher understood and she too blamed the government.

Today, I am a grown-up earning a good salary. However, my classmate from school in the same company earns a couple of thousands more... Goddammit, F*&^ the HR! All my colleagues agree too, we all blame the HR. I shall be honest now and blame Facebook for getting me hooked. Oops! Writing this post, I lost track of time and am now late for my shoot. The politicians waiting are going to throw a fit. I will take the familiar route. “Sir kya karein? Traffic hi itna tha. Sir, aap log kuch karte kyun nahi?”
(What can I do sir, there was much traffic. Why don’t you do something about it sir?)

It’s an instinct honed over the years, almost as if the mind has been left on auto-pilot and does not know another way to navigate. See it is not my fault...

PS: And yet, do we ever realize – or will we – that we are as much part of the same blame game?

Lesson 25: Bechara Software Engineer?

2007-10-02T17:04:00.001-07:00

Contributed by Citizen Mohit (do read his blog for the complete, unedited text)

There is a very old joke about Bangalore that a friend of mine told me the day I reached Bangalore for the first time after its new found status of India’s IT Capital. It goes like this (told in Hindi first for maximum impact):

Bangalore mein kuchh Chaalees Hazaar (40,000) kutte hain; Itne hi kareeb software engineer hain. Sadak par ek patthar utha kar maarogey to ya to kutte ko lagega ya software engineer ko. Aur Kutte ke galey mein patta ho ya nahin, software engineer ke galey mein jaroor hoga!

(Bangalore has about 40,000 dogs; about the same number of software engineers. If you throw a stone randomly, chances are, it will hit the dog or the software engineer. While the dog may or may not have a strap (a.k.a. leash) around his neck, the software engineer will definitely have one.)

Alright, the half of you can stop laughing now. The other half are of course, the software engineers.

While there are no official figures to support this (meaning I have not researched), I can safely say that more than half of the current youth does something that can be slotted under the title of ‘software engineer’. If you are not a software engineer, there are all chances that either your brother or sister, or your spouse or your best friend or your neighbor or someone else you know closely is on.

It’s funny. What started out as a profession that needed a whole lot of technical expertise, was supposedly ‘niche’ and somewhat glorified, has now become as mundane as any other profession, or most other once-upon-a-time-talked about professions. And not just mundane, it’s become one of the most accursed jobs to have as well. In a way, the software engineer of today is what the babu of the English government was, back in the pre-independence era.

For one, most of a software engineer’s hard work, his day’s energy and all his knowledge goes into productive work (mostly) for the United States (or some other country). His only contribution to the country is the tax that he pays (which is a significant amount) but no one cares for something that you do once a year and that too just a day before the extended deadline. But there is no satisfaction value to his hard work; he is not like his Airtel or Reliance engineer friend who can boast of working to increase the country’s communication bandwidth.

Not like his stock broker friend who invests in the local stock markets (even though he might be working for a Franklin Templeton); doctors, of course, have that halo value; journalists can boast of reporting corruption; even a management professional working for the countless multinationals that have made their way into the country learns stuff about the local market because local is how he deals. But the software engineer learns everything about the US industry but ZILCH about the corresponding Indian industry. He may know loads about the US insurance industry but how things work in the Indian market are quite different.

It started as an esteemed profession (it still is, but a tad too common). Everybody and their bagal waali aunty ka ladka (neighbor’s kid) worth their “Hello World” program wanted to be a software engineer. The charm of sitting on a cushioned chair, complete with the ergonomic works, in an air-conditioned office, the potential of getting the Gurgaon flat (or the Bangalore, Hyderabad or Chennai flat, consistent with your geography) along with the Tata Safari as ransom, oops, dowry, an overall enhancement in the family status, the not-so-proverbial but very filmy samaaj mein gardan oonchi (high status in society) and the ultimate dream of flying “abraawd” (which, for a desi, means any country apart from Nepal, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Burma and Sri Lanka) was just too much of an opportunity to overlook.

And thus started the revolution that would take India from the spiritual tourism pages of the Time magazines to the business section and even the cover story. Young college pass outs left their hometowns for their dream jobs in often far away cities. But is it a Dream Job?

In these far off big cities, the software engineer is no longer looked at as the nice kid who made it from a humble background; he becomes just another bachelor who only rents apartments to cast an evil eye on the landlord’s daughter, or the neighbor’s young wife or to cook non-vegetarian food in the vegetarian landlord’s “pure” house. He also has a tough time with auto drivers; now auto drivers can anyway be a pain; but when they see these 20-somethings with loads of cash, they often hear stuff like “you have taken away our jobs coming from other states”.

Sky-high rents are another reality that becomes a reality only when he gets married.

And if you want to see the software engineer, where do you go? His office is a good answer but you won’t be allowed to enter his actual office area these days with the security arrangements such that I cannot go to my friend’s seat who works for a different client because my tuin-tuin card does not have the access for that bay. Well, so you go to the malls. Those people that you see all over the mall; some sipping their Café Coffee Day some-difficult-to-pronounce-ccino; others waiting in the multiplex line ready to dish out close to a grand for a movie for two (with popcorn and Pepsi, large please).

And is that enviable chance at a life abrawd really that enviable? The Software Engineer neat stuff all around him but does not buy it because he is there only for a year or two; to save for a lavish lifestyle that everyone expects him to have back home. So, he settles for a lifestyle quite opposite to what he had back home. While he shops only branded stuff from the best shops in India, he is always on the lookout for ‘deals’ and sales announcements and buys the cheapest stuff without caring for a brand name in the US! Not to mention the weird looks he gets from all the natives for taking their jobs away. A few “lucky” ones have seen protesters at bus stops with signs saying “I was Bangalored” and “Say No to Offshoring”.

In a way, it seems that the software engineer of today is what the babu of the English government was back in the pre-independence era. The babus joined the British government in a hope for a good job and a prosperous life for their family. They did their work and even though a large section of the population would have lived off servicing that class, they were often considered as people who just wanted to make money by turning towards the tide. A large section of the youth turns towards software jobs today because that is the area where the largest number of jobs is.

Does that make The Software Engineer a selfish lot? The kind that works for itself and does nothing? (And which is the Other kind of people anyway?) So the abroad-going-software-engineer population is rising (and perhaps not with much returns for India) and so are the numbers who don’t get a basic meal a day. Both are realities of today’s India. I know that the software engineers definitely want to see their country progress. There are small ways in which the software engineers can help the country – even while you spend most evening tracking your Twitter account.

Like making government offices and services tech savvy. Or even teaching your mom the basics of the internet to make banking easier.

Apologies and encouragement

2007-10-01T03:08:00.000-07:00

Hello!
Apologies for not being regular with the updates, my back has been acting up AND my laptop has been crashing. Have been scared to operate the machine for fear of losing all material. (scowl) There are three contributions sitting in my inbox -- excellent ones -- and unfortunately, have not been able to go through them. However, do wait up for a very nicely written piece on the Indian Software Engineer by Citizen Mohit.

Meanwhile, here's what Prasanna (@muziboo.com) wrote on his blog, while he will still perhaps write a post for Shitizens' someday, we sincerely thank him for his encouraging words. Am pasting a bit of what he has to say, for the whole thing, do click on his blog link.
Love, peace and faith -- J Bo

Prasanna writes:

This is dedicated to two different sets of folks. For even if what they do, what they dream, what they see that the rest of us don't, are entirely orthogonal and unrelated, they are not so fundamentally different from each other in spirit.

Here's a toast to the folks behind theindianshitizen.blogspot.com and www.muziboo.com!

Here’s to the crazy ones...

PS: More to come Readers and soon... Don't lose the faith...or the patience!!

Lesson 24: Justice... is blind?

2007-09-27T09:39:00.000-07:00

or, Where the courts are beyond the law...

The Judges Inquiry Bill (2007) should be introduced in the Parliament next week. The bill is all about holding the Judiciary accountable for what they do -- if and when one feels that either justice has not been meted out or if a judge has been 'corrupt'. Remember the movies where we have seen judges taking bribes? Now think... So you have been harassed by the police, your neighbour, your in-laws, whoever and decide to move the court to help you out. You move the highest court of law for a case and perhaps the person sitting on that esteemed chair is not honest. Will you be sure that you will get justice? When studying, one of the chapters in my civics book said that when a citizen does not have anywhere to go, the Supreme Court will listen. It will give you justice, it will do right or at least try. Now... the SC is perhaps becoming a body that becomes all-powerful; but that power perhaps will not be used for the people. Judges will perhaps become prosecution, defence, jury and executioner; all rolled into one. And if perhaps there is money involved, the verdict might not make any sense to you and me. WHAT will we do? WHO will we go to?

Here, is You Don't Know Who (YDKW1) makes a reappearance now to give us the juice on what the entire Judges' Inquiry Bill is all about; why we need it and what the court has to say about it. Read on, it's important for all of us.

Contributed by You Don't Know Who 1

There is a saying along the lines of, "It doesn't matter to the grass if the elephants make love or if they make war, it gets crushed either way."

At times, when huge institutions are in conflict, it can feel like that for ordinary citizens. Frankly, all you want to do is get the hell out of the way, but that may not be the best way to deal with things.

Most people in India will not really know about this, but the Parliament is currently looking at a Judges (Inquiry) Bill. Knowing this may not make much difference to your day as an Indian citizen, but it should, because it is quite likely to affect your life. And just because the judiciary and the Parliament are calling each other names, shouldn't make you forget that the primary purpose of these huge institutions, these elephants, is to serve you.

The Judges (Inquiry) Bill, 2007, is supposed to replace the Judges (Inquiry) Act, 1968. The original Act was brought into force to investigate complaints against judges. It has been used. Once. Unsuccessfully.

This was in the case against the Supreme Court judge, Justice Ramaswamy. Despite the fact that the Inquiry Committee found the judge guilty of 11 out the 14 charges including those of financial fraud in which his actions were "were such as to bring dishonour and disrepute to the judiciary so as to shake the faith and confidence which the public repose in the institution," Ramaswamy was not removed from office. In fact the impeachment motion against him failed, and he happily went back to his job. No other Inquiry into a judge's behaviour has taken place, ever.

For the last 15 or so years MPs have been trying to figure out a way to make sure that something like this does not recur, and during that time we have all heard many stories of judicial misbehaviour. A few of them are listed here but the thing is that the Supreme Court has ruled that the judiciary is off-limits.

It has served contempt of court orders against journalists investigating or even the CBI conducting a raid without the Chief Justice of India's permission. Even the Right to Information Act has been declared not applicable to the judiciary.
Now this might not be all that bad. The impeachment process against a judge of the High Court or Supreme Court has been made tough for a reason.

Judges should be independent and not be open to coercion. But it is also common sense to understand that if somebody has power, and no oversight whatsoever, they might be tempted to abuse it. If they cannot be investigated, cannot be questioned and cannot be removed, there might be a bit of an issue. In fact the Supreme Court has interpreted the Constitution to mean that even appointments are done on the advice of the serving judiciary. So appointments of the judge, any oversight or punishment (and we would never know) is all in a few people's hands.

Previous governments have tabled a number of bills until we had a draft version of the bill in 2005. It was sent to the Law Commission, headed by Justice Jagganadha Rao, came back with a report that judicial oversight should be exclusively by the judiciary, and the judiciary alone. The Law Commission argued that this is the case in (most of) the rest of the world. The funny thing is that the National Advisory Council had come out with a report saying the exact opposite, that in most parts of the world judicial oversight is by a wider body. For some reason the Law Commission in its 400+ page report somehow forgot to even mention the judicial reforms undertaken by the UK, and the Act passed in 2005 appointing a committee to appoint judges (none of whom are of the judiciary) and an ombudsman to investigate judges (who is not a judge). So we have the current Bill, about which one of the Members of the Parliamentary Standing Committee has said, "we talk about accountability, instead of Judges appointing Judges, which is bad enough in itself; Judges judging judges, even when there are complaints against them, I think, is worse".

And in the midst of all this when Mid Day magazine raises the issue that the sons of the former Chief Justice of India, Justice Sabharwal, were members of a mall and building development agency that made crores when the Supreme Court forced the implementation of the sealing drive, the Supreme Court cries, 'Contempt!" and sends the editor and reporters to jail. It really makes you suspicious.

Do you really want such judges passing judgments over your cases? With no oversight, no transparency, nothing? Think about it. Inform yourself. It is your country, these are your institutions. Hold them to account.

PS: HOW??? WHO do we go to? Even 'truth' is not seen as enough -- even with proof -- to bring a judge under the scanner. Andha kanoon? And again I ask, how long will you keep quiet?

Lesson 24: You bloody Baingan aka Brinjal!

2007-09-25T20:36:00.000-07:00

Contributed by Citizen Sahasra Shatru, Hyderabad

People have peculiar attitudes shaped by the cities they live in, so much so that we come to see stereotypes – that are almost, always strangely true – of people with regards to certain attributes. A beautiful old-world charm used to pervade the city of Hyderabad, which was and is famed for its laidback attitude.

That attitude is celebrated to date, notwithstanding the advances in technology, businesses, pub culture and life in the fast lane. Yet, what deeply supports the laidback attitude -- that is so proudly worn on sleeves by Hyderabadis -- is the "Brinjal" Attitude. Now, let me elucidate.

Look at a few everyday encounters that an average commuter or bystander is witness to:

At signals, when someone is obviously jumping one
Person 1: “Arre Bewakoof, signal nahin dikhtha kya?.
Person 2: “Baingan kee meri Signal”……….vroooom….
(Yo, idiot, can’t you see the red light?
My bloody baingan to the signal!)

On the roads, where someone is liberally pee-ing on walls
Person 1: “Arre yaar, thodee hee dhoor mein public toilet hain naa?”
Person 2: “Baingan kee meri public toilet”
(Yo, there’s a public toilet at a short distance you know…)
(My baingan to the public toilet…)

Any given place when women are being letched at
Person 1: “Maal ke tamaatar dekha hai kya?
Person 1½: “Rapchik hai chichchaa…khaali thodee sadelee hain”
Person 2: “Abbe there ghar mein maa behan nahin hai?”
Person 1: “Voh tho hai, par theree behan ko kab bhijaaraa rey, baingan ke baal”
(Yo, haven’t you ever seen a tomato? Don’t you have your mother/sisters at home?)
(Of course I have a mom/sis; but when are you sending your sister over, you bloody brinjal)

In a Government office, obviously stuck at the red tape
Person 1: “saab, yeh kaam thodaa urgent hai, aaj sham thak ho sakthaa hai kya?”
Person 2: “Baingan hota”
(Sir, this work is important, can it be done by evening?)
(By evening? Right. My brinjal…)

In a queue, when someone’s obviously breaking the line
Person 1: “oye theree tho, kathaar nahin dikhraa kya?
Person 2: “thereko dikhthaa hai naa, thoo khade rah”
(Oi, can’t you see the queue?)
(Well, you can see right? So keep standing.)

At a market (with vendors) where stuff is obviously over-priced
Person 1: “uthnaa bhaav kyoon bhai, main ithnaa eech dethoon”
Person 2: “mere mooh pe baingan likhaa hua hai kya, chalo, giraak kaa time hua”
(Why is it so expensive? I usually pay a lower price)
(Er, do you see ‘brinjal’ written on my face? )

With auto driver, who is obviously refusing to budge
Person 1: “Punjagutta chaloge?”
Person 2: “ .....“ (the ‘baingan’ gesture)
Person 1: looks at his watch, the sky, and to the next autowallah
(Will you go to such-such place?)
(Makes the brinjal-finger-sign. No response)

It is that stoicism that I am in awe of that is so homogenously present with the display of this Brinjal attitude that kills any prospect of conciliation with the people that one has to interact with everyday.

The city lives on and grows organically as people move to other cities and exchange their ‘gifts’, the best export from Hyderabad being the Brinjal attitude, thanks to their strong rudimentary principles in the art of living. It is there deep in skin, bones, blood, and sputum, and some times only a dandaa will set them right, albeit temporarily. I keep fighting with the ‘Brinjals’, some times with upper hand, some times vanquished. What do you do with yours?

J Bo says: An eye for an eye, a brinjal for a brinjal?

Lesson 23: Have you been to a Rae-Bareilly?

2007-09-24T23:56:00.000-07:00

This was contributed by Citizen Mohit.

“Have you ever been to Rae Bareilly?” I was stumped by this question coming from my neighbor’s 7-year-old kid. How and why is this little kid interested in the Gandhi family’s constituency? Well, my fears were unfounded. After some rounds of Q&A, I understood that he wanted to know if I had been to a library (lai-ba-rairy in a kid’s voice became Rae Bareilly!).

Hmmm, I told him that I had been to libraries in my schools and college. But this little chap wanted to go to a library near his home. So I took him to my stack of Champaks, Bhokaal, Chacha Chaudhary and Archies comic books; the 7-year old was satisfied with that but not me.

I have never seen a library in my town Ghaziabad. I have only heard of the British Council Library in Delhi and one probably in Bangalore. But apart from these ‘exclusive’ libraries, don’t we need more libraries across the country? Our politicians call bandhs for providing so many commodities either cheap or free to the common man but they never hold the parliament down for providing free/easy access to books and other reading materials. Is this part of their evil scheme to keep the man on the streets forever on the streets?

Here are, what I believe, the benefits of having a library in all towns of our country:
1. Access to books for people who cannot afford to buy them; access to books will not only enhance their knowledge, but also widen their horizon about issues facing their own towns, districts, states all the way up to the country and even world.

2. The self-appointed darogas (policemen) of Indian culture will also get an opportunity to spread word among the people about the value based sanskriti (culture) by showcasing Indian literature especially in the regional languages to the youth of today who are blamed for embracing Western influences while ignoring the rich cultural heritage of their motherland. What else can they embrace when the only public face of Indian Cultural heritage that they see is some hooligans burning down public property or breaking window panes in a card shop on Valentine’s Day or turning a blind eye to any constructive suggestion by terming it as an insult to their religious sentiments?

It just dawned on me, while writing this piece, that this library effort is especially critical from a regional language literature because a failure to do this (in the way I am suggesting or any other) could very well mean pulling the curtains on those precious gems forever from the general landscape. Sounds exaggerated?
Consider this: you and I still have heard in bits and pieces about Prem Chand (frankly, he is the only Hindi author I can quote, I know, shame on me) because our parents came up from villages and were in touch with these but keeping in mind the amount of Indian literature we know, how much do you think can this generation pass on to its children?

Just putting books in a building is not my idea of a library; the library complex should allow place for small gatherings as well where learned scholars from local universities, colleges and other affiliations can hold short discussions or discourses on some key topics including the importance of the Vedas in these days, the lessons of Bhagvad Gita, the teachings of the Quran, even controversial topics like whether the Babri Masjid was actually a temple with both sides being allowed to put their points across.

These debates, discussions and the resultant awareness and knowledge in the common man should allow for greater understanding of the complexity of issues and hopefully should result in a society that is more civilized and aware of the real cause of problems (also understand if there is a problem at all).

If we follow this, I am sure the next time some mischief mongers deface an Ambedkar statue in Kanpur, people in Mumbai will understand that no amount of kaalikh on Ambedkar’s statues all over the country will lessen even an iota worth of his contribution to the Constitution of this country and beyond. This is the respect and tolerance that is the hallmark of any civilized society.

If we cannot work together as a society for the upliftment of the man at the bottom of the society, we do not have any option but to cry foul when he converts to a religion which did help him get some education, however minimum it was, and raises his quality of life.

Like I said earlier, I do not know of any local libraries in our towns and cities. If you know of some public libraries, do share those with us here so that other towns and cities of this country can hopefully learn from them.

I will try and share my books (at least the ones I don't mind if they don't come back). It will hurt, parting with the darlings, but will try share good books and brilliant authors with people. That will be my contribution today. Yours?

PS: Recommended for science fiction/fantasy readers or simply those interested in DAMN good reading, Samit Basu's Gameworld series -- The Simoqin Prophecies and The Manticore's Secret. The third and final part of the series, Unwaba, hits bookstores this December. Yea!!!!

Lesson 22: Claim your dead for Rs 3000/- only

2007-09-21T20:34:00.000-07:00

Originally titled: Nanamma
Contributed by: Citizen Mads

Greetings people. Lots of angry tales, na? Too much heat and all. You want chilling? Here.

Prologue:
Husband and self, having brought in the New Year, were fast asleep. Suddenly, a phone call wakes me up. My brother.
‘Nanamma’s been stabbed.’
This is no time to tell you what nanamma means, but still. Grandmother. Father’s mother.
‘You’ve downed a few, right?’
‘I’m dead sober.’
Next thing I know, I’m at dad’s place taking charge of the situation.
‘Nobody touch anything.’
My grandma’s dead. Murdered.
This is supposed to happen in films.
Blood on the walls, the sheets, all over my dead grandmother. I huddle the family in one corner of the house and call the police.

They come and start examining the place. There’s a knife in the loo. Dog squad arrives. Neighbours are enjoying the show. After all the investigation’s over, the cops leave. The relatives are here. The drama begins.

Curtain opens:
Twilight. Cremation ground. Funeral scene.
Nanamma has been brought here in a van straight from Cooper hospital after an autopsy, and a bribe of Rs. 3000. For those who don’t know, Cooper is the municipality hospital in Bombay where all cases of unnatural death that side of town are taken for post-mortem. The police and doctors do some paperwork and lock the body of your loved one till you pay up.

Scene 2:
Back home after the cremation. The media is waiting at the door.
Tell me, is the police legally allowed to drag the media into people’s personal lives?1 (NO, every citizen HAS a right to privacy. The police and the media play on the fact that no one will push them away or sue them. PLEASE sue the media.)
Cameras, mikes, reporters. “Aapko kaisa lag raha hai?” I roll up my sleeves, “Come, I’ll show you kaisa lag raha hai.”

Sure enough, the next morning’s papers have us splashed all over them. Long lost friends and relatives dig up our numbers and call to find out kya hua. Trying my best not to lash out, I say. “Jo papers mein likha hai wahi hua.”
The Aaj Tak guys even come to the condolence meeting and dig people for information.

Intermission.

For those who don’t know, here goes. She was in her room; my dad was in the next room. The rest were out for the New Year’s eve parties. She’d probably put up a fight. There were signs of struggle. Knowing her, she wouldn’t give up so soon. She was just back from hospital having beaten age and illness black and blue. Coming back to her body. Diamond earrings, and some gold ornaments she wore were missing. She had been stabbed in several places. And a cushion had been use to muffle her screams. (It was blood-soaked). Yes, she always slept with the windows wide open.

Scene 3:
A dull script would have the police solve the case, get the bad guys and thus help the family, right? Not in this one, though.
Apparently, in such cases, the prime suspect is the family. Dad, mom, brother, us, everyone was subjected to days and days of questioning. And still more questioning. The cops went questioning our neighbours, doodhwala, sabziwala, dhobi, maidservant.
Everyone we even met on the roads, shook hands with or spoke to were caught hold of. Plainclothes cops were all over.
Was my dad a good son? Did mom have fights with nanamma? Was there property involved? We lost a lot of friends who, we realised later, were never friends anyway. The true friends were with us rock-solid. They spoke, gave statements, and did everything they could to help us (bless them all).

Grand finale:
The 13th day ceremony at home. Relatives pouring in. When my family was working round-the-clock to serve nanamma while she was in hospital, none of these even cared to ask if we needed any help. And all these relatives are here to watch the show and point fingers. How could you let it happen? You didn’t take good care of her! You got the family involved with police. All this from people who never bothered about her when she was alive! Curtain closes on my dad who loved and served his mother all his life, now in the middle of all this unpleasantness. His own people accusing him. His friends deserting him. His trust broken to shreds. His mother gone in such a terrible way.

Epilogue:
Mom was out of town when all this happened. She arrived on the morning after the murder, from Rishikesh with Gangajal. Little did she know how soon we’d have to use it.
The windows we loved keeping open now have strong grills that block the view and breeze. We never ever leave my parents or my old father-in-law alone.
And yes, we don’t celebrate the New Year any more.
What happened to the killers nobody knows.
The police never got back to us.
The media never came to follow up the case.

After ruling the headlines for some two days, my nanamma became part of the statistics on the senior citizens’ murders happening all over the city. Our wounds are yet to heal.

Mads' comments:
I too will grow old some day. I don’t know if my children will live with me. Nanamma died like this in spite of living with a family. I’m scared. I can only pray.
PS. If any of my so-called friends/relatives manages to read this, I advice you to stay away from my family. If any of you bothers my people with more questions in the wake of this blog, I swear, I’ll come after you with a hatchet.

PS: And pass on the addresses if you need to Mads, you got another hatchet here. REQUEST to people: BAN the media in times of personal tragedy. Please understand, Indian media SUCKS at follow-ups. Half the time they suck at getting the basics right. Yes, I am from the media and YET I request, DON'T talk in times of tragedy. It's like giving a carnivore a taste of blood. And next time a media person asks, "How are you feeling?", just slap them hard and repeat the question to them. Period.

Beginning 2007, or late 2006 there was a double murder in R block, Greater Kailash 1; one of THE shopping and moneyed hubs in Delhi. An old couple was hammered and clubbed to death, no stabs or quick demise... A blunt object was used and NOTHING was missing. The next door neighbours to the deceased couple happen to be a lead singer (and wife) of a much-loved band. We were all in shock. The murders were committed in the afternoon. There are full-time, stay-at-home househelps in both the houses. No one heard a thing. What were the chances that the murderers should have chosen that house and not the house next door? My friends' house? The case is STILL unresolved.

Lesson 21: The Plastic Suicide

2007-09-20T21:25:00.000-07:00

The post is contributed by Citizen Mads, one of our 'Mumbai shakha', as she calls herself

Me, average middle class Mumbaikar. It means I travel by train, eat vada pav and call onions, kanda. I’m proud of my city. Come flood, riot or blast, Mumbai gets up, dusts the seat of its trousers and moves on. But I have a problem. I hate the anti-Mumbaikar. No, no. Not the one who’re against Mumbai and all. That one I don’t care about. I mean the jis thaali mein khaate hain, usi mein… type.

Let me introduce you to Her. (It’s going to be Her because I travel in the ladies’ compartment, go veggie-shopping, use the women’s loo, etc.). She’s this nice, god-fearing woman who does her puja everyday, handles all the household chores, balances home and work. Nothing wrong with that, eh? Now this goddamn woman travels by train every morning. I meet Her everyday in some or the other avatar.

The first time I saw one I couldn’t believe my eyes. Just as the train moved from Bandra towards Mahim, she braved the crowds and slithered through to come to the entrance of the compartment. She stood on the edge with folded hands and a resolute look on her face. “Is she going to jump?” the mind questioned.

And behold! Come Bandra creek and she throws a huge plastic bag right into the water. And before the dropped jaw could come back in place, she disappeared into the crowd.
The puja ke phool, apparently, have to go in the water. Else, you go to hell. Fair enough.

I make it a point to stand at the entrance and meet the anti-Mumbaikar everyday. I request her to throw just the flowers without the plastic. “Try using newspaper,” I suggest. “Tu (not even tum) apna kaam kar na!” she retorts, “shaani banti hai.” (Why don't you mind your business and not try and be a smartass?)

She also frequents the veggie market. I meet her on most weekends. You could recognise Her by her conversation. “Bhaiyya, thaili do na.” There she goes again! My blood’s turning to steam now. She takes plastic bags, one for each sabzi. “Bhindi alag thaili mein daalna.” I’ve lost it completely. “People are dying every year because this city’s clogged with plastic bags.” With a sneer she looks me top to bottom, looks at my shopping bag teeming with newspaper-covered vegetables and says, “Toh mai kya karoon?”

Whaddya mean main kya karoon? You’re the one who’s strangling my city with bare hands. Strewing plastic left, right and centre. You’re the one who’s drowning all our people. You killer! I want to shoot her at sight. But she’s got so many avatars. What to do? (….)

PS: (… and 'where to start?') That’s another Yamuna story happening in Mumbai. A common myth is it’s the slum-type and slightly better-than-slum-type colonies that contribute to ‘dirtying’ a city. Those mentioned in Mads’ post are not even slum dwellers. Research by The Hazards Centre, New Delhi, headed by Anuvrata ‘Dunu’ Roy shows clearly that at least in Delhi, the slums on the Yamuna flood plains contribute to ONLY 0.08 per cent of sewage to the river. The rest of it is the imported-car driving as well as the DDA housing-society-living type. You and me. Please look at the picture of the day again. The blue plastic bag has WESTSIDE written on it. Westside is one of the big garment store chains in the city. So are Lifestyle, Shopper’s Stop and a whole lot of international brands that have entered the market. Most of these stores give out plastic carry bags in various sizes. Point to be noted here, there ARE stores that give out handmade-paper bags as well as bags made of linen. Om Book Store for one, The Shop (Connaught Place) for another; and there are more. If these guys can do it WHY cannot big stores, which obviously have the money not invest in biodegradable packaging as well? Hmm. I am going to find out, will perhaps try and rope in the Centre for Science and Environment as well. Let’s see.

Meanwhile, for those who drink beer:
If you break the bottles on the sideways and throw them behind bushes, it really does not help anyone. One, you are dirtying places around you and two, you are preventing those cans and bottles from being reused. What I don’t understand: WHEN you can carry 12 full bottles of beer in your car, why cant you carry 12 EMPTY bottles back? Now you can even stack them roughly as there’s no fear of spilling or breakage. Just bring the empty bottles back next time, instead of aiming to see who throws it the farthest or who can break his bottle into the bittiest pieces.

I will use newspaper, disposable bags and linen shopping bags instead of plastic. That will be my contribution today. Yours?

Lesson 20: Water IS my birthright...

2007-09-20T00:45:00.000-07:00

The capital of India, New Delhi, is one of the few capital cities that BEGS for its water from neighbouring states. Just before the Yamuna enters the capital, it's broken into two and the flowing waters of the river are blocked and released as channels. Six different drain pipes release untreated sewage directly into the Yamuna. Once the water is treated and 'cleaned', people are seen bathing, washing clothes and cleaning vegetables in the so-called treated and clean water. THIS so-called treated water is what comes into your houses. PLEASE go and check inside your overhead tanks and SEE if you find any living creatures in it. Frequently, my taps are blocked -- in 3 days -- because there are larvae and other insects STUCK inside. The water smells as well.

Yesterday, as part of yet another festival, 'Gods' were being immersed into the river. The concept being that once invoked for the festival -- apparently to come and bless the people -- the gods are then sent back home by way of a river/ ocean/ sea. It's actually carnage. What was shocking was that people were actually BATHING in all that shit, were going UNDER, check that picture with the boy's head merely sticking out. A few minutes after that picture was taken, the boy spat out something from his mouth. I did not have it in me to inspect exactly what.

Two women, who were paying one of the boys to take their 'idol' into the water were standing at the end and ewwwing. "Oh my god, this is so dirty", so I stopped and asked as to why they were contributing to it. I will give it to the lady, she looked confused and said, "Yes, I know what you are saying, I had not realised it is this dirty. But... religion says... Is there another option?"

Is there another option? Hmmm. Visarjan (immersion) has been a part of (Hindu) religious proceedings for ages and perhaps demanding that it not be done is... religiously impractical. Common sense though DEMANDS that we stop so immediately. However, common sense and common man -- even the Skoda/Lamborghini driving class -- do not sit well together. So I suggested that she immerse her idol in a bucket of water and perhaps keep him under a tree somewhere. Her response, "No, no, that would be such disrespect to Ganesha."

Well, and Ganesha likes to be dumped into YOUR excreta? Does he know that? Delhi is living like PIGS; we drink and eat our own shit.

PS: Is ANY environmental body watching? When celebrities can petition the government (under PETA) to become 'ele-friends', to save elephants... Can we expect SOME celebrity to petition in FAVOUR of the PEOPLE? I mean, how are we SO moved by every other living creature but our own goddarned species?
Can we ask a Pandit if there is perhaps another option than DUMPING everything into rivers? Will Religion stand by it's people or is Faith always destructive?

You got ideas of HOW we can help; mail me = jhoomur@gmail.com

Lesson 19: Anger is the manifestation of Fear…?

2007-09-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

And are you afraid yet? For till you don't feel the fear, you won't feel the anger.

Suresh* (name changed to protect identity) has old parents at home, he’s their only support. Like any other young guy, he also likes this girl. She stays in his colony. They don’t speak much, except he ensures he takes a round of her house when she is outside, drying clothes or sweeping the porch. He is an autorickshaw driver. Suresh and his family faced a severe money crunch for three years so that Suresh could buy his own auto. Usually, autorickshaw drivers work under contractors and pay anything between Rs 300-350 as daily rental charges. Whatever they earn in a day – or not – they have to pay that amount for using someone else’s auto. Once he got his own auto, the family saw happier times. You and I perhaps would still find their living conditions pecuniary, but they were happy.

Last week, another autorickshaw driver – a local goon of sorts – murdered another auto guy, with a sickle (darati, in Hindi). The police came to their colony and picked up Suresh. He had not even raised a finger. There is proof, there were eye witnesses that he did NOT do anything. Currently Suresh is in jail. His bail has been refused. The murderer is roaming free; he has local-level politicians for friends. Suresh’s parents don’t know what to do. They are scared. Suresh’s friends are angry. Because they are afraid. That despite their friend being innocent, he will probably be booked in a false case.

I am scared because despite knowing Suresh – I know him through Umakant, my favourite auto-wallah – and yet, I cannot do anything… As a professional. They called me, the auto-drivers. I know them, they have my card. I had said, “Bhaiyya, kabhi zaroorat ho to batana,” (if you ever need me, call me). They called. I am media. People are supposed to be scared of me. I am angry. I am scared. Can I do anything? Will my channel/editor take up the story? Will METRO NOW take it up? But then, Suresh is an auto driver and such things only happen to little people. Not news, nah. Not TRP.

On the colony gate of Green Park Extension – one of Delhi’s relatively posh areas – there is a notice. A missing person’s notice. The girl in the picture is pretty… and has been missing since August 8, 2007. The notice is in font size 8, hardly visible; and has other posters sticking on it. I wonder if the girl is alive. Or gang-raped. Or maimed. Or perhaps sitting in a minister’s bedroom somewhere, to be used and then sold off. But you see, that missing girl is not any Adobe officer’s child. So no one in the media will bother about mobilizing forces and cameras to find her. Can I help her? You? Ha ha.

There was a comment on my employee-website… We had broken a story on Ministers being part of a racket where MINOR GIRLS are brought as house-helps, raped and made to have babies. The comment read, “Can you please help us find my brother’s daughter? She has been missing.” It was written by a Doctor… not an anonymous Rupa sticking on a busy colony gate. And yet; is their family angry, because they are scared? And what if tomorrow someone from your family is kidnapped? Will you trust the police or will you hold a press conference?

As a macabre joke, interestingly, my favourite autowallah Umakant, was the man who brought Adobe Anant back home in his auto: It was out in the newspapers, please check. And today, his best friend Suresh languishes in jail.

I had mentioned a DJ-event sometime back (on the sprawling Garden of Five Sense, under the aegis of Delhi Tourism) in one of my earlier posts. The organizers had paid all taxes and taken all permissions to hold an event. Yet, the police interrupted the event much before the sanctioned-time. No one could do anything but go home. Meanwhile, this Italian restaurant flouts rules every Saturday. Why? Because they pay the cops. Tomorrow, when the same cops come and declare they are going to bulldoze the place, I wonder how much money the restaurant would shell out.

Does Delhi remember Turquoise Cottage? THE Media hub on Wednesdays? Quite interesting that despite frequenting that place and joining communities in its praise, I really did not see ANY media support IN the papers on or TV for “our beloved TC”. That restaurant too used to be open till 2 am. Any guesses how? And yet. Shrug.

Do you have a friend in the Air Force or the Army? What will you do tomorrow if you learn your friend was shot dead in Drass; trying to protect a post, the location of which was compromised BY another corrupt official or perhaps some buffalo-loving politician? Or because some extremely intelligent politico – usually with a criminal record and no education – decided that that particular post did not need many soldiers? Or what if your pilot friend crashes, flying the decrepit helicopter the Air Force has? Will you do a Rang De Basanti? It IS a real situation, the b******s really don’t care. And how many times, the Rang De Basanti... for each soldier? Each missing person? Each religious riot?

Ditto for those who might have seen ‘Crash’. It could be your girlfriend and a policeman’s hand under her skirt while you are held at gunpoint. Gurgaon Police nearly did it to me in 2004. We were waiting at a Gurgaon colony-crossing, waiting for another couple to come in their car and lead us to their house. It was 9.30 pm. So these drunk cops come and while they are talking to my male friend, are checking me out. I will never forget. This burly cop, spat, then cleaning his teeth with this little finger, was pointedly staring at my breasts. I could FEEL his look. Then pointedly looking at my crotch – jeans – he asked my friend, “It’s not safe for medam to be traveling with you. Leave her here. Go find your friend.” I took out my press card then, like an ass. It was a lame gesture. The cops started laughing and said, “Arre medam, biyaabaan main camera nahi hote.” (There are no cameras in the jungle.) I swear, IF a policeman EVER touches me…

Yes. I am angry BECAUSE I am scared. And I am thinking. I really did not like the ending for Rang De Basanti. Does it have to be that? What happens when josh (adrenaline) and hosh (intelligence) come together? If a handful FEW can find ways to tweak the law for their benefit… WHAT happens when an ENTIRE nation puts its head together? Joins hands? Or even a handful? Do we always HAVE to be the victims?

And for how long? And for HOW long will you live in fear… Turn it to anger. Yes, Anger is a manifestation of fear. Feel the fear. But GIVE me your anger.

I will be afraid; and yet I will transform that fear into potent anger. Anger that DOES something. But, I will use my brains. Josh aur hosh. That will be my contribution today. Yours?

Lesson 18: Angry kya?

2007-09-17T10:34:00.000-07:00

When standing for what is right, I will not be daunted by those who laugh at me or desert my side. I will stick to the truth and bravely face the music. That will be my contribution today. Yours?

About a decade ago, my mother was contacted by this lady who wanted Ma to get involved in a direct-to-home marketing project; she wanted my mother to become a distributor for Amway. As the lady explained to my mother how Ma's joining would ensure untold riches to the family, the lady said, "Remember Mrs Bose, you have to learn to dream big. When you dream big, remember there will always be many Dream Stealers around you; those who will discourage you from following your dream. Don't listen to them, listen to your dream." Well, Ma was not convinced enough and happily continued teaching kindergarten kids; but what the lady said about dream stealers stuck in my head.

Remember that the next time you REALLY believe in something and are told it cannot be done or is not feasible. If you are standing up for a cause and believe it to be right; KEEP THE FAITH. Once you stop believing, your dream is lost. It might take time for your dream to become a reality, but as long as you believe in it... There's always a great possibility of it coming true.

Shitizens' welcomes new contributor, Sahasra Shatru (Hyderabad). As an introduction, let it suffice to say that SS is someone who has been working actively - though alone - in standing up for causes that perhaps most would ignore. Thank-you SS, for having the spine to speak up for what is right. And yes, thank-you, for your anger.

Here's what Sahasra Shatru has to say --->

That I am writing this piece, I thought the reader only deserves to know why - At other times, because I would have thought this is the best weapon I had, or the only one. Now, because I am reduced to exercising this as compensation, having lost a battle again in life – on the roads, with the system, with myself.

No, I am not going to tell you a sob story as to the narrative of the events that led me into dejection. I am, in fact, if anything, angrier than before.

Angry, because the advocates think it is in the nature of law to procrastinate procedures to a point of bringing the plaintiff to resignation.

Angry because the police thinks it is a waste of time to handle “petty” cases of argument or altercations over illegally cut-down trees for erecting Ganesh pandals, even as I watch the nice Gulmohar tree I had a fetish for being dismembered to allow the lofty idol exact its due… A procession grander than any wedding- unhindered by swaying branches that dance with every rain with a promise of fighting the miasma, a promise which it delivers every day, the only promise that was ever delivered.

Angry, because the municipal commissioner does not find time to take up “frivolous” cases of concrete slabs being constructed between the road and individual houses in a township, causing water stagnation and mosquito menace, “Tumhaare ghar ke saamne banaya kya?” (Is it made in front of your house?) “Tumhaare ghar ke saamne thode hai kya?” (It’s not in front of your house is it?) “Tum ne ped lagaya kya?” (Did you plant that tree?)
“Tum ko kaam-dhandha nahin hai kya?” (Don’t you have any work?)

Angry, because the 24-hour petrol bunk refused to fill petrol at an odd hour into an empty tank, and beat up the man because he insisted on leaving the bunk only with filled petrol and was later forced to compromise in the police station, for want of evidence and pressure of counter-cases.

Angry because the school students of a “Concept” school, upon completion of their last final exam would tear up their papers and books and throw them on the road, in a cinema theatre style in aplomb, and the man standing in the way of the bus, demanding that every piece of paper be picked up from the road would be pushed aside by the lecturers. And the people who have just won a ticket into the utopia that they are going to carve for themselves, were jubilantly hooting and mouthing filth, and even as he watched helplessly, another bus, this time, a public bus, passes by, and a commuter spits crimson and burnt sienna beautifully splashed on a particularly fluttering piece of paper. He picks up the paper to find a part of some question, a word, printed in nice ink on a 75 GSM paper – which read something like - “India”.

A melancholic strain from a movie made exactly 50 years before, starts repeating itself like the voice in a schizophrenic mind, “Jinhe Naaz Hai Hind par voh Kahan Hai?, Kahan Hai, Kahan Hai, Kahan Hai? (Those who are proud of this country, where are they, oh, where are they?)

Angry, because, we as Indians are fundamentally not angry enough. We are not angry at personal injustice and find it a personal liability to get so much as a prompt service in a Nationalized bank.

Angry, because we feel guilty getting good service from businesses.
Angry because ethics are a commodity to barter for convenience.
Angry because my idea of civil rights and personal justice is outrageously perceived as Idealism.

I am no champion and I do not intend to be. I just want to get things done properly and am willing to pay the price.

Are you angry enough? Are you willing to pay the price? Can we ever be an Angry nation and channel it to fruition? Do we have the spine? Do we have the balls?

PS: “We are not the heroes. We are the anti-heroes.” Sahasra Shatru, will NOT be alone. I got a call from my mother. This is how it went: “I heard what you are up to now. WHY do you have to do it? WHY cannot you simply write and be happy? And are you not supposed to write on fashion and music and parties?” My mother has categorically said she does NOT want to know what I am up to. Shrug. She never did know, you know. My father called: “So are you writing all this on the blog?” Yes, Papa. “Do you have proof?” Yes, Papa. “Don’t get into trouble, ok? Rest, your papa is here.” Yes, Papa. Sigh. He still thinks he is superman. But THIS is as much for the people as for my parents… the father who spent a lifetime dedicated to the Indian Army and when he retired, was not even offered a ride back home. The Ordinance officer who never took a penny and since he questioned seniors in his younger days, was told that he would never make it to a Major General. He retied a colonel in the Ordinance corp, also known as one of the “chor corps” (chor = thief) of the Indian army, allegedly for stealing everything from snow jackets made for soldiers in Siachen to taking bribes and giving tenders to arms companies. My mother often said, “Only if you were not Gandhiji's avatar, we would also have an air-conditioner like other families.” My parents still do not have an air-conditioner. The LEAST I can do, is ensure they have their dignity in their old-age. It saddens me that perhaps what I am doing is giving them sleepless nights. But I have to. I have to feel the anger they perhaps didn’t feel. And I hope you feel the anger too.

When reading Sahasra Shatru's line about, "can you sacrifice?"; was reminded of another old slogan: "Tum mujhe khoon do, main tumhe aazadi doonga." (You give me your blood, I will give you your freedom). We don't even want blood. Just give me your anger, and we'll give you what you want.

Lesson 17: India and the Gods of clay...

2007-09-15T15:05:00.000-07:00

The Ganapati festival is the harbinger of much happiness. He is also the Lord of Knowledge and Prosperity. Unfortunately, Ganesha too would cringe if he realised his "idols" and devotees are intent on destroying the Universe he perhaps helped create and nurture. Idol-immersion, or visarjan, is a part of most important festivals; particularly the Ganesha festival and the Durga puja that follows about 20-odd days later. In Kolkata, there are competitions on the best idol and best pandal made. From Osama bin Laden to Jurassic Park, the creations are marvellous. On one hand, toxic paints et al are submerged in the Arabian Sea and on the other, into the Bay of Bengal. I COMPLETLEY endorse what our new contrinutor, Citizen Shilpa Nagavara, Bangalore, has to say. Praying to a clay god, does NOT make him/her a lesser god.

The Durga puja is around the corner too, and perhaps it's too late to try and convince Resident Welfare Associations and/or Puja committees to consider safer options -- clay -- while ordering/creating their Durga idols. However, I will try and convince... and will hope that those reading this or involved with the same, will spare a thought.

I will speak for the right cause, but I will find out the details first. That's my contribution today. Yours?

ON THE YAMUNA AND COMMONWEALTH GAMES' VILLAGE ISSUE
I have the documents needed to prove that the so-called development on the Yamuna river bed is a land-grab scam. However, I would like to clear here that perhaps many companies and agencies are perhaps honestly trying to work towards the development of the river. HOWEVER, creating concrete structures is NOT development. That is eating land, killing the remaining water table sustenance area and ENDANGERING people. I have the proof in hand and so do a number of media houses. Those who don't have, will be provided. PDF files will be prepared and posted. Give me time. IF anyone of you reading this, belong to said companies/agencies that feel you are working towards development and do not understand the "bad press" -- Speak to me. Perhaps certain OTHER bodies (read DDA, government) have lied to you. You are welcome to come see the proof.

The said proof was obtained/received between the period of 17 - 31 August, 2007, under the Right To Information act. It includes commission reports completely refuting ANY construction on the Yamuna, High Court orders prohibiting the same, reports from the seismology departments, flood control and water table recharge departments and a LETTER from the Usha Mehra Committe TO the VC, DDA (31.08.2007) clearly stating "disgust" and requesting the DDA "NOT TO FLOUT High Court" (and that IS a direct quote) orders. The same would be reproduced here.

If those involved in development projects et al can disprove the same, please come and speak up. I will NOT support what is wrong, but when I have proof, I will NOT keep quiet. As I have already replied to an email, come and explain your point, give me the proof, show me the approval documents, and I will be the FIRST to do a positive article. A professional's word. ALL those with information are requested/invited to mail me: Anonymity guaranteed and You Don't Know Who status too. This is important.

HERE GOES CITIZEN SHILPA'S POST:

Happy Ganesha Festival to one and all. May the lord of knowledge and luck bring peace to the world and prosperity to all. I hope this blog isn't a little too late.

As I was walking home last evening after alighting the bus, the environment was superb. The smell of flowers took me to another world. The colours hadtransformed the drab, dusty road to a garden of sorts. There were plantains of all sizes being bargained. The smell of fresh mango leaves was very inviting. All sorts of fruits had made their way to the markets as well. So, had the garlands made of real and artificial flowers, the vastras made of cloth, paper and plastic. In an under-construction building, there were many Ganesha idols being sold. Each one of them in a different avatar, each one very colourful, each one better than the other. Everyone was busy buying the best to make their celebration memorable.

Ganesha Festival is celebrated with great fervor. The lord, made of soil (gold and silver for the wealthier ones) in all sizes and vibrant hues is brought home, worshipped and sent back. Sent back to where he came from. He is immersed with the garlands and other ornamental wear in the lakes, ponds or wells. There is a huge fan-fare with truck loads of people being part of
the procession, bursting crackers, celebrating. If that wasn't enough there is blaring music enough to deafen any one. The inconvenience caused to the people on the days following the festival is best left unsaid. That is a different story altogether. The point I am trying to make is different....

Not sure how many houses have wells in these days in the cities. So, he (Ganapati) makes his way to the city lakes. Some also immerse him in balti-bhar-pani (bucket full of water) and later drop that water to the lakes or use it to water plants. This happens year after year.

And the so called devotees care zilch about the environment in the process.

Imagine the amount of paint on the idol and the toxic chemicals it might contain. Most of the them are not solvable. They remain as suspended particles.
Imagine the amount of plastic that goes with him into the water in the form of ornamental wear for the lord.
Imagine what happens to the life that survives on this lake water (humans and animals alike).
Imagine what happens to the soil when this water is used to water plants.
Imagine what the fruits would contain. And imagine what happens to you when you consume the fruit/fish.

I have always believed that the saying "Common Sense is commonly missing in common people" is so true, especially in this scenario. What does it take for a man to realise the consequences of his action? Does someone really have to die? And if that happens too, if the victim is not related to me, what do I care? I sympathise. I mean, haven't we caused enough damage already in terms of population, pollution, depleting natural resources, etc? Aren't we seeing the effects in the form of natural calamities? But no, why give up on grandeur?

No, I am not preaching against idol worship. All I am trying to ask is, is it blasphemous to worship the idol of the lord made of just clay/soil? Why does the lord have to be straight out of Karan Johar's movie whose costumes are designed by Manish Malhotra? No offence to anyone but just trying to draw a parallel here. Does Ganapati give lesser blessings if he were ONLY made of clay?

My prayer to the lord of knowledge:
Give us some sense, the ability to judge right, apply thought, be
considerate to others and foresee the results of our actions.
Ganapathi Bappa Moriya!

Lesson 16: Get. Up. Stand. Up. Rise for they are coming for Your child. Soon.

2007-09-13T20:48:00.000-07:00

I have never voted in my life. I lost 10 years of that power. I WILL vote, I WILL find out about the right candidates and vote for them. THAT will be my contribution. Yours?

Goodmorning Readers and Fellow Citizens,

How did you sleep last night? Nice dreams, sweet thoughts, good sex? And where were your children? Do they sleep with you or do they have a nice little room for themselves?

For, while you were sleeping a 2 and a half-year-old was raped and her throat was slit. It was a very neat slitting, should be, a 2 and a half-year old child’s skin is very soft. She died. But before she died, can you IMAGINE how much she would have CRIED when she was raped? Have you ever pulled a child’s ears, they cry a lot. And here, the child was ENTERED into. How much it would have hurt her? But of course, sorry, so you HAVE a 3-year-old son and you are the big-time editor of some big-time newspaper. It cannot happen to YOUR son, na? Are you so sure? Do you trust your child’s school bus driver? Or the nurse in the swanky toilet of the swanky air-conditioned school your baby goes to…? Are you SURE that the ayah is NOT feeling up your child INSIDE that Rs 6 lakh per annum school? And the Ministry of Mayhem will NOT do anything.

Somewhere else, a man first strangled his two daughters, they were 12 and 16 I think. So he put his fingers around their necks and squeezed and squeezed till their eyes rolled in their sockets. The mother watched helplessly. She was helpless much before. NO, he was not raping his daughters, he was ensuring no one else did once he was gone. This father LOVED his daughters; but he knew that if he left them behind, they would be raped and perhaps sold to some brothel. So, once he killed his daughters…. He killed his wife. Then, he hung himself. Because since fathers are supposed to look after a family and he could not, how could he leave them for the hyenas? THINK… What was going on his mind as he spent all that time killing the Family he had created? But then, the Powers that be ensured that it was IMPOSSIBLE for him to provide his family with a simple meal. And you know what was said? The Ministry of Mayhem said that it was His mistake and the mistake of all those like him – poor farmers who give you and me the cereal we eat in our houses and the posh bloody restaurants – that he could not look after his family. The Ministry of Mayhem will NOT do anything.

Also, while you ordered your bottles of Evian, the Delhi Development Authority, the Indian Railways and the Ministry of Mayhem in Delhi are all set to RAPE the Yamuna. By the way for those who did NOT know, the Yamuna is the DIRTIEST river in the WORLD. And you and I are drinking that water. Swimming in that water. Once that Commonwealth Games Village is up and running and it forever FINISHES the little water we have in Delhi, you will STILL have water to drink and to shower and to have bubble baths and swim? NO. No matter how many restaurants you own, you WILL suffer. The water source is the same.

And ah, the Indian Railways is going to spend Rs 125 CRORES on sound-proofing the area. WHY cannot that money be used in launching new trains? Or even improving the horrible seats in existing trains? NO, no, the Indian Railways is concerned about the 5,000 athletes who might be DISTURBED by the noise. DUDE, WHAT ABOUT THE GENERATOR NOISE AROUND MALLS THAT RESIDENTS SUFFER EVERYDAY? You, dear Ministry of Mayhem, are FOOLING us, taking OUR money, making an IDIOT out us. Rs 125 crore for TEMPORARY sound proofing. You mean we HAVE that kind of money and are NOT using it? And using it for 5000 athletes?! Delhi has 2000 times MORE people than that who will NOT get water. ALREADY in Vasant Kunj, Katwaria Sarai, Chittaranjan Park there is water shortage. And those are just three areas I have mentioned.

AND THEY WILL NOT STOP AT DELHI. They will encroach on your farm house. They will encroach on schools. They will encroach on ANYTHING that is not theirs. And if you stand up against them, they will rape your wife, have an encounter and kill you. Simple. FOR HOW LONG? And WHY are you quiet?

So Delhi has this BIG time DJ festival called BAARISH. It means Rain. Ha ha. Really? There will be NO rain once that Games Village comes up. HOW ABOUT FLATTENING THE GARDEN OF FIVE SENSES AND USING THAT LAND FOR THE VILLAGE? Would cost much less and that landscaping can be recreated after the games are over. AND please, there is NO OTHER land around Delhi for that village? ONLY the Yamuna with it's sound proofing?

I am going for a meeting today. WILL get you details, and THEN, you tell me WHY you are silent. Ok? Many of you cry hoarse about NO ONE doing anything… HOW about YOU showing some balls? Shy, are you? So fine, SHOW me spine.

For your 3 year old son. For your wife. For your mother. For YOU. This is NOT talking country, THIS is talking YOUR interest. WATCH THIS SPACE.

And remember, if you vote for an ass, you will GET an ass. Gadhe ko baap banaoge, to gadha hi baap banega. The gadha does NOT become a horse if you give it power. Look at George Bush. Hah. And remember, the East India Company FIRST got the Princes AGAINST their own people and THEN they took the states AWAY from them. WAIT and watch as it happens to You.

THIS IS CITIZEN CRIMSON’S TAKE ON THE GADHAS WE MAKE KING:

My contribution today: I pledge to vote and vote sensibly, in the next general elections. However trivial one out of a BILLION may sound (read tagline above to DRILL this in your head), I realise that MY VOTE COUNTS.

I will carry out my homework by finding out the truth about each candidate and spread the information among my peers. Thus I will make sure that the next government is chosen by majority agreement and NOT by majority indifference.

I completely believe that the quality of leaders reflects the quality of the nation. WHERE are we?

Like we conduct our personal financial planning and tax research – and even ask 16 people, from a fighter pilot to a rickshaw puller about what car to buy – let us start researching into a politicians’ caliber and credentials. The MEDIA can behave like a dependable tax consultant (and if not, you WILL read it here).

Let us make it hard for a politician to fool us. Let us gather information on these guys, from confirmed sources and spread THAT among fellow citizens and finally VOTE when there is an election. Let’s not choose our Government through majority INDIFFERENCE, but through majority agreement.

Those who cannot lead, should NOT be allowed to lead. But that will not happen till you and I VOTE for the people who CAN lead. OR find those people who can lead. Or BECOME the people who can lead. Don’t stay silent, the Ministry of Mayhem does not spare anyone.

Lesson 15: Ram ji ki jai ho… (nahin to?)

2007-09-12T13:18:00.000-07:00

aka Holier Than Thou, contributed by Citizen Ikaros

Question: How many Indians does it take to stop a bull-dozer from going over the Yamuna river bed and making the games village?
Answer: ONE. The rest can stand and cheer.
But who will be that one? And a different one every day?

J Bo's Note: This post is AS MUCH to the media as to the so-called upholders of Faith. Why is it that Everything in our country becomes a matter of religion? Take the nation-wide chakka-jam/strike alled by the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP). On the face of it, it is a stand-off between developers and conservers. The developers are those who want to build the canal that would reduce sea-time for ships plying between India and Sri Lanka. The conservers say the bridge (setu) would dislodge many fishermen from those areas in both countries and will also cause severe, irreparable damage to the environment. However, now comes chakka jamkahani main twist. What are scientifically said to be shoals formed due to sedimentation (the gradual settling of soil) are also supposed to be the remains of the bridge the vanar-sena made for Bhagwan Ram to go to Lanka. So basically, and of course the saffron brigade is up protesting, “save the setu”. What I personally find exceedingly funny in the situation is that the Government, which should know that there are some who WILL be emotional about anything to do with Ram… CHOSE to have ‘setu’ in their project name. Very sensitive to the country, must say. And what’s with people? At the time when everyone is busy worrying about tax returns, mediclaims, vacations during Diwali-Dussehra, movie releases etc – there are people who are burning cars and creating mayhem for Ram. Definitely only a vanar sena. But not a loyalist to Ram, he never preached mob violence. And definitely not on the property and possessions of those who had not done anything. He represented a right cause, good versus evil. You are being neither, just ridiculous. If you have to fight: Use LOGIC…in the name of Ram! I mean c’mon VHP, oppose the setu, but do it FOR the fishermen there, BE Ram’s true followers: Ram helped Shabri, he helped his followers. He didn’t go around burning things to prove his point. If you are such Ram-bhakts (devotees), how is it that ALL your actions are only towards vague ideas but NEVER about real people, the people of Ram? This is not Dharm, this is dhong.

Citizen Ikaros’ take on things: Holier Than Thou?

People blame A particular section of society for an act of terror and the dissent has and will run deep for years to come.

In India, there was a certain haplessly opportunist of a President back in 1947 whose ugly move we still have to bear through. People are divided upon religion because of the relics or so called 'beholders of faith' like the Maulanas from SIMI (a Muslim students’ body) and Sudarshan who heads RSS (a totally tyrannical Hindu outfit with regressive and outdated principles).

Islam and Vedanta are two profound studies, which preach of God and the ways to attain godliness. Still how can it be that they engage people towards fanaticism?

Christianity has the vaguest and yet simplest of all doctrines. Buddhism is mistakenly thought as the religion of peace and compassion. Ask the Neo-Buddhist and you will know. The very lunacy of religion lies in the fact that one man's god is another's devil.

It is not hard to follow a religion of convenience. And if you are a clergyman, it is not hard to turn a well-found religion into a religion of convenience as well. So all the lawlessness, acts of terror, brutality against animals, are accounted for people who are godless. But not following any religion, according to many would be blasphemous and makes one an outlaw.

But does everyone go about terrorizing and rampaging daily peace? On the contrary, most acts of ghastly deeds have been performed by believers of religion. The Spanish Inquisition and witch hunts by the Christians, the forceful conversions by Muslims through the centuries, and recent fanatical acts by the Hindu Right wing.

With the advent of a flurry of spiritual channels featuring 'godmen' and clergymen giving away religious discourses with divine confidence, it makes me sit, watch and wonder. How necessary it is to have FAITH! It is the only Hope and Shelter. It's the provider of Solace. Take away FAITH from your life and everything is lost. We have been programmed in such a way.

And I try to believe.

PS: At the mention of ‘channel: from the videos I had seen on TV, the situation seemed really bad. However, there was no evidence on anything, anywhere. Are we needlessly creating mountains out of molehills? What happens if the Press were to boycott an event and NOT give it publicity?

Lesson 14: The Theory of 49 %

2007-09-11T00:11:00.000-07:00

Contributed by: Citizen Ikaros

49 % ministers in India are vote hungry megalomaniacs.
Rest of them have their votes assured. (Am being too sympathetic here?)

49% of operations and medical treatment in India are surgical mishaps.
Or else we would not have heard regular reports of cotton gauges and scissors found in the guts of unsuspecting patients. Call it bloke-headedness or sheer ignorance. When despite the brilliance of many doctors you have wrong diagnoses (more suffering, financial waste borne by the patient and family); think of what your 49 % not-so-brilliant-so-called-under-privileged, branded denim clad, reserved candidates – most of them can be safely called Dr Quacks – will end up doing. Perhaps they will next forget an entire tool kit inside someone.

49 % of quality time should be dedicated to protests by students.
They should be shown snippets and documentaries of Netaji Subhash Bose, Tinnamen Square Tragedy, Che Guevara, WWII, etc. Student ‘revolutions’ and ‘uprisings’ should be more of a regular feature all over the world, especially in India. Also special screenings of neo-idealistic films like Yuva, Rang De Basanti, The Motorcycle Diaries, Michael Collins etc should be encouraged in college auditoriums.

49% of the democracy in India is fascist.
I have been a quota victim years back. I feel the pangs of rejection due to caste bias. And I've felt the anger towards the OBCs, SCs, STs, NTs who smiled into glory with the assurance of engineering and medical seats in premier colleges. The whole idea of caste bias is put to full use by pathological egoists we call ministers. They still DIVIDE AND RULE.

PS: 1. Citizen Ikaros is our new contributor who joins us from Mumbai, India. Citizen Mads is already there. He is also part of the dirty business called media and has some RJ friends who he frequently threatens with an, "I will pull a Rang De Basanti in your studio."

2. Those who have views ANTI what he has to say about ministers, reservations, quacks, the works.... use the comments, WITHOUT insulting, or mail me what you have to say. A post on a different note is welcome. Again, what each one of says here might not often agree with everyone. Feel free to Debate.

3. Also, as suggested by one of our commentator's -- First Shitizen of India -- who missed some posts and developments; have put up the 'On Ground, Off-Blog' (top of the page, right) section that will keep readers posted on what we are up to. After a bit, am gonna shift that section down somewhere. Also, I think I goofed up the html-tagging bit, will re-do tomorrow morning. Yawning here, it's a nice change from insomnia.

4. Have I mentioned that so far, I do not know ANY of the contributors personally? Never even met them? Didn't even know they existed? And YET, we all think the same... Almost!
Sahi hai! ('Tis cool!')
isssshleepy now... Nighty-nite!
J Bo

Lesson 13: Who's afraid of George Bernard Shaw?

2007-09-09T07:26:00.000-07:00

...And keeping the Faith.

No matter what happens and who says what or calls me what names, I will stick to my resolution, hold on to my Faith, not get scared. That will be my contribution today (every other day). Yours?

And the Faith, goes for ALL or whatever You choose to do... Even if it means being a rock star who works and parties like crazy and yet MAKES time to spend with his parents on most weekends. It's funny; that people who stay with parents don't have the time. Or sometimes, parents don't have time. Let's all do our thing and those who want to pitch in, do so, okay? (Simple things, real people, real inspiration, thank you rock star)

“Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to all other countries because you were born in it”: George Bernard Shaw.That quote is the beginning of a forwarded, well-worded post declaring, ‘Patriotism is outdated’. The mail said the post was "partially inspired by your blog, but perhaps you won't like the contents". Loved the writing! As for the patrtiotism=jingoism part, shrug.

Patriotism, nationalism and jingoism have unfortunately become three sides to the same coin; and as anyone will tell you, no coin has three sides. The point being? Some choose to care for the nation and forget that a nation IS made of people, aka the Human Race. Others choose to work for the Human Race and since it’s kind of practically not possible to reach out to the whole lot, choose to start from their country. And since, India IS the second largest populated nation in the world, one can safely say, hell, this patriotism sure is targeting a large number of that human race. And yes, I believe I am patriotic. You can call me jingoistic. :) I love adjectives. Citizen J Bo, Jingoist. Got a nice ring to it, no? And as was the response to that post – very graciously accepted by the poster, goes to show we ARE a thinking people – will reiterate, we come in love, peace and Faith.
You never know when you need the Faith. It's eerie... when I had written those words in someone's scrapbook earlier in the morning, I had no inkling of 'who' I would meet later in the day... someone, with Faith.

LIVE ACTION UPDATE: What up with Shitizen non-blog, on-ground work?

Spreading the word; and getting word back
Tulir – Centre for Prevention and Healing of Child Sexual Abuse*, Chennai, responded to the Children of An Abused Nation post on another platform. “It may sound morbid but I am really pleased to read the issue for your latest blog. It makes us at Tulir - Centre for the Prevention and Healing of Child Sexual Abuse feel less like a voice in the wilderness.” Currently we are awaiting further correspondence from Tulir. They have a case for us; once provided with details, WILL follow it through. Watch this space.
CALLING CHENNAI: Anyone have room to put me up?

Lonely Socks Project: Who will wear the socks and tee shirts?
Very slowly, we are spreading the word that we are looking for lonely socks (if you have lost one, mismatched pairs) and old tee shirts in all sizes. While the tee shirts can be old, we don’t want torn/unwearable ones.
Someone said, “Hey, old tee shirts are the most comfortable to wear. People won’t give those.” Well am sure the DK-DnG type will have ONE non-branded, bought-at-Sarojini Nagar market tee to spare? If not, no issues… Delhi is big enough, and if there is one person taking home Rs 27,000 and still able to spare ONE old tee shirt; am sure there will be others. (smiles)

Anyone hate an old tee so much, you wouldn’t mind giving it to us? No torn or unwearable ones. We want tee shirts not pochcha kapda (floor swabs).

Good Deeds @ Re 1/- Only
I don’t like giving money to beggars. For one, I am never sure if that money is not going into some corrupt beat constable’s pocket and two, if it won’t fund someone’s crack/smack habits. So instead I give toffees and sometimes food. I realized that urchins enjoy chewing gums more than candies... They last longer. Also, charity does not need a lot of money. Delhi alone has 1.37 crore, even if you remove MOST and JUST 5 lakh people contribute Re 1...

Today, we tried something; let's call it Experiment 1.
We were sitting in Bacchus (dinghy restaurant in Vasant Vihar) meeting Citizen Crimson – yes, first Shitizen meet of sorts – when, on a whim, decided to talk Shitizenship with those in the restaurant and see if it made sense to non-bloggers as well... But before that, a little about what led to Experiment 1:

Just before entering the restaurant, we bumped into people from The Faith Foundation* (pic courtesy: The Hindu) . What is The Faith Foundation? A lawyer, a PR lady, some other people… who teach rag pickers and slum kids near posh PVR Priya on Sundays. No, they don’t charge. No, no one is sponsoring them. No, they have not received any awards. No, they are not mad. They are Humans, who feel. Who don’t think that contributing money would reduce their EMIs. It was funny. Most children wished us “goodmorning”, we folded our hands, they folded their hands… Kids, heh heh, would do what you ask them to (and what makes them vulnerable too). So we are hoping we would be able to find MORE volunteers for Faith. They have agreed to take the socks and tee shirts we collect. So we know who we will give our first collection to.

And what did we do?
We made a little poster (have it with me, will keep it and see it survives to scanning stage!) – very poor, very falling apart, on bad quality tissue and walked around the restaurant, spoke to people, asked them if they would give us Re 1/- only to buy toffees for the “students” who were sitting outside and studying. We invited all those who were contributing to come and SEE us giving the kids the sweets. Took an empty ashtray and walked around… and collected Rs 14. (Smiles) The kids from Faith had long left for their respective “jobs”. The money is with me. With the names of those who have contributed. Am going to collect more and make that a Rs 100… and go back with sweets... the first time. Faith Foundation needs crayons, copies, pencils, erasers… much more. Click on their link, see what you can do.

And those too lazy = Do you have Re 1 to spare? I will give you a bill AND you will SEE proof on this site of WHERE the money is being used. Write to me. I DON’T want more than Re 1 from ANYONE. Even if you are The, Vijay Mallya.

So I walked up to, perhaps-21-years-old Rahul Singh and he took out a Rs 5 coin and as I left to get him change, he said, “No, no, we are five people in my family, that’s Re 1 from each.” He wore an ear ring, spiked hair and some branded tee. Have I mentioned lately, I LOVE this generation! Yippee yay!

The Re 1/- belongs to:
1. Rahul Singh (who contributed on behalf of his family)
2. Jeet Singh
3. Manil Singh
4. Pearl Singh
5. Priyanka Chaturvedi
6. Mr Pandey, cashier, Bacchus, Vasant Vihar, ND
7. Nipun Sharma, head bar tender, Bacchus
8. Amit Tushir, steward, Bacchus
9. Neeraj
10. Sonu
11. Sharmistha
12. Ivy
13. Chetna
14. Lady sitting alone on table, forgot to take name, so sorry! :(

PS: Name calling update
1. You are a shitizen, therefore you couldn't think of another name.
Yes, sorry, I have been a shitizen, forgot my duties. Give me time, let me mend my ways. Then, I come after you. Okay, deal?
2. You are a jingoistic monkey.
Aiyah, no issues with the jingoistic-bit, I severely protest to monkey. No tail! Try orang utan? But no orang(e)!

Lesson 12: A dozen reasons to love India!

2007-09-07T22:08:00.000-07:00

Hello,
Goodmorning (sniff, sniff). Today was supposed to be another post by another contributor. But since most posts that we have right now are all angry, kick-up-your-tata posts, decided to write a happy one instead. Or well, tried! To keep everyone in the loop – especially those who have contributed – the following are in the pipeline:
1. Post by Citizen Saurabh, Dehradun, India
2. Post by Citizen Mads, Mumbai.
3. Post by Citizen Sree and me
4. Post ON the Adharshila Training Centre, a school for tribals: They mailed us; our first non-government group to want to associate. So will be doing that soon. Am putting up their logo though, EVERYONE, please click and see how you can help out. ALSO, those in the know how of other schools for the poor, experimental schools, whatever, mail back with links and numbers.
5. We got a NASTY one from a senior person in the UK on wordpress. He reacted to being called a ‘shitizen’; oh in fact he was quite rude in saying, “You guys write shit” etc. My response to THAT will come. I emailed the gentleman and apologized for barging into his inbox – I don’t like emailing people I don’t know – so he replied that he was OK with me mailing IF I could not speak out in the open. HA. HA. HA. I do NOT hide, sir. And an open response was not given out of respect, not any kind of shame.

VERY important: ARE we insulting Indians by calling ourselves Shitizens?
NO. But each time a Citizen FORGETS his/her duties, he/she IS a Shitizen. Period.

Now for the post: I was thinking, so fine we know a whole lot of things we want to change about her, but what are the things that make us love her? India…?

I will find one good thing to appreciate about my country. That will be my contribution today. Yours?

1. A full stomach, for every pocket: So the government might be intent on banning street food; but it’s a bit strange. Because what the five-star going calls street food, is also STAPLE food for a LOT of Indians. We had a full plate of aloo-thukpa (thick, rice noodles) in Kalimpong for Rs 2. A bhelpuri, quite filling outside college cost Rs 7, jhaal mudi (spicy, puffed rice) cost Rs 10. Lemon-soda, also called banta costs Rs 5. Now in big restaurants, you get 12 pieces of button mushroom on this fancy wooden platter – it's called Mediterranean cuisine sampling or something -- that is Rs 200-plus. Very tasty; but you’d be hungry the moment you are down with it. Oh, you are also supposed to eat the shrooms with chopsticks; I guess to make it seem that it does not get over a little too quickly. Anyway. India needs everything for everybody; so while we build malls and restaurants in every colony – two in some – do we have to kill ‘street food’? And yes, about Indians NOT falling ill from street food. Dudes, as a race, we have better STOCK than most and are hardier. Therefore. Not because we are fed a spoonful of dirt when we are born.

2. Ability (and allowed) to sleep anywhere: Yes, imagine, if the destitute were to be removed off the parks, the temples, the pavements, where would they go? Of course some would say it would clean up the country; but really? Or would we also become like a whole lot of other nations where you cannot step outside your house after 8 pm because someone will MUG you... and perhaps kill your for Rs 20? I like the freedom in my country much better, thank you. In fact, once upon a time when I didn’t have a house for four months, I slept under my office table; with sleeping bag, a bag of clothes and office bag. And we are talking a BIG media house here; everyone was accommodating. And no, NOT T-O-Eye.

3. Taxi wallahs who react to being called “bhaiya”: And give you respect. I use a lot of cabs and so far, they have been protective. I like that. I was stranded near Connaught Place once and a taxi guy – this silver-haired Sardarji – was passing by. He saw me standing and waiting for an auto and looking a bit scared; he stopped. Offered me a lift and left me near an auto stand; I had told him that I could not afford his taxi. He did not take a penny from me. Happens in other countries?

4. Autowallahs who protect from eve teasers: Yes, I call them my Hero Hira Lal (remember the Naseeruddin Shah movie?) Many a times, when men on bikes or cars start following the auto or coming onto the sides and looking inside as if the girl sitting inside is blind, deaf and mute or perhaps a zoo animal… MANY a times, it has been the auto driver who has reacted. One started driving fast and we had a race with the men on bikes. Another swerved and parked his auto right before the car that was harassing and wanted to give the boys a thrashing. Ha ha. Another decided he wanted to bump the men-on-bikes OFF the road and stopped the auto, let the boys get ahead and then started chasing them. Hahaha, the dudes fled with a mad autodriver and a crazily laughing woman inside. So thank-you Auto wallahs. We have heard rape stories, but the number of auto drivers who have helped me... I owe you.

5. Bus conductors who give you their seat: Oh yes, if they see you are being bumped into by men on all sides, many a times, and not just with me, I have seen Delhi bus conductors offer their seats to women passengers or old people. And we say this is an insensitive city. Shrug.

6. Churan wallahs who can barely eke a living and yet give free churan golis: Churan for those who don’t know, is a mixture of digestive powders – very tasty! – often rolled into little balls or had as is. I have had a thing for churan since childhood. In my nana-naani’s (maternal grand parents) small town, now in Chhattisgarh, this little village called Manendragarh; churan golis were called Gatagat and the churan-bhaiyya would give every kid two golis free. No matter how many we bought, it was always the ones that bhaiyya gave, saying, "aise hi bachche hain" were the ones we enjoyed most. I love the name gatagat. :)

7. Share my seat: I love the way women in buses – strangers and when there are already two of them on a seat – will offer you a little corner to park two per cent of your left ass-cheek. But they do offer.

8. Or how, despite no advertisements, people DO help the blind cross roads. The other day I saw this ear-ringed dude helping an old woman, haha, she looked ZAPPED. She certainly was not expecting a bigda bachcha to help her. I love this generation, we DO surprise people, hai na?

9. How we worship celebrities and make gods out of our actors: It’s really funny. There was a time when ‘movies and theatre’ were more for nautch girls and nautankis. Not for respectable families. Shrug. Does that make us dumb? No. Just shows that to a large extent we are a simple people who like to believe that a Hero who is portraying good on the screen, is REALLY that. Sigh. Such wishful thinking… Almost makes us, erm, cute!

10. How you can STILL shame people: These days I don’t argue with my autowallahs when they ask for more than meter price or don’t want to turn the meter on. I simply stand there with a sorry face and start talking, “Bhaiiya, even I am working hard. Please don’t charge so much. I know you are working hard and have to give rental. But please don’t do this. I don’t want to send bad wishes your way. I would like to help,” and I sound very sad. To my extreme surprise, it WORKS! They get all grumpy and grouchy and HATE it… but mostly, they do turn the meter and take me wherever. :)

11. Sabzi mandis, local haats: I looooove vegetable markets, the freshest of stuff and the vendors have all the time in the world to laugh with you. The other day, when I was refusing to buy kathal (jack fruit) and was joking with the vendors that I didn’t know how to cook it, heh heh, they were ready to share recipes. I love that. Indians mostly love a good laugh.

12. How we call everyone bhaiyya, didi, uncle ji etc. Yes, certain stats are disturbing, but even while growing up, I had bhaiyya-didis in school buses and other places who kept an eye out for me. I was one of the kids who ALWAYS got into trouble with school bullies, bus bullies, playground bullies. Till about 12-years-old, I was frequently beaten up in school. Always boys! NOT teachers, the worst they did was make me stand outside class for, er, talking in class. But yes, the Bullies often tried to make me cry by pinching, punching, pulling my hair. Ha ha, must have been a sight – a four-feet tall, little, round girl, standing and taking beating but REFUSING to cry. But that was only when the bhaiyya-didis were not around. Remember this didi in class 12 – I was in four, 9 years – Pamela or something, who REALLY gave it to this horrible boy who had stretched my right arm and was giving me ‘karate chops’ to see how much I could take. Man! Did that didi or did that didi TAKE his class. Hahaha, she tied him to his bag and made him run around the school playground…and made me and my friends clap. Good fun. So in a land of many abusers, THANK YOU to all bhaiyya-didis I met on the way who stood up for this little girl once. I will too, I promise.

And well, 12 HAPPY points from me should make some of you shut up who insist that I cannot write happy things. Well let’s say if Dumas were writing this, I would be called Pathos. So those who CAN write inspirational, happy things… please come. :) And as always, you don't HAVE to write, you can click pics, make videos, write lyrics, draw something, write a slogan AND most importantly, pass on our link and talk about Shitizens. Let's get together people. And kick butt.

Lesson 11: Do you hear my war cry?

2007-09-06T13:56:00.000-07:00

BY J Bo

Are you a Citizen or a Shitizen?

This country is weird. In some very strange ways. Like for one, it surprises in the least expected ways. Like when Shitizens was started – not even two weeks – I was expecting people to laugh, question, shrug… I was not expecting genuine, quick response. Could be initial curiosity, says my cynical brain, but hey! Let’s see. We are a funny bunch, us Indians. You really cannot tell what we will do. Screw the stereotypes.

As I realized while walking in Connaught Place on Wednesday evening – that in that whole area, me apart, no one else knew about Shitizens or what we are trying; and we are talking Country here! – It was heartening to think, that there are people who Do care. Even if it’s just one Indian somewhere. And it’s a strange kind of maturity that I see, even when I am chatting with a self-proclaimed too-lazy-to-take-a-piss 20-something in Australia… we are aware this is not going to be easy. Perhaps there isn’t even any 10-pointer Goal to reach. But what I did notice is that We want to try. So come. Enough talk.

And while I am at it, the Media has been blamed/made scapegoat for a whole lot of things. Primary accusation being, “So you got the story and talked the talk, what did you really do?” Well, this is one in the media. If there are more who might think similar, please come. If association with Shitizens is an embarrassment, we will not announce you are helping us – we have already launched You Don’t Know Who for anonymous do-gooders. Shall keep it off the records. :)

And finally, Hello,

To those who are reading, those who are helping us spread the word, those who randomly message with encouraging words, the haltingly narrated anecdotes, the seniors and big wigs who tolerate early morning inbox and messenger spamming, the ones who message late in the night with ideas… Thankyou for your time and your mind-space. Some questions have been coming up quite often; will quickly run through those before I get on with the ‘post’.

1. Why Shitizens?
By definition, a citizen is someone who owes allegiance to the state and is entitled to that state’s protection. The most common citizen grouse today – other than blaming most things on the media – is that the State does not do anything. What the citizen’s forget is that they have to “owe allegiance” too. Do their bit. Till as such time we simply open our mouths to either complain or talk big, we are simply Shitizens. Pretty much the one-word for the phrase, “Bum main dum nahi, hum kisi se kum nahi.” (Got no balls, yet talk tall, somewhat).

2. You’re talking too, what’s this all about?
This is about each one of doing that Little Thing that comes the most easily to us. Yes, I said the Most Easily. If all you can do is remember to turn that tap off while you shave one cheek; it’s fine. Or not keep your computer running all night even when you are sleeping. Download freaks can take a night off! ;)

3. And the writing?
To discuss ideas, share thoughts, know what we are thinking, what bothers us; and most importantly, to form a global think tank of Thinking Indian Citizens. We will share ideas, opinions, ways and means of doing things and those motivated enough, there’s the Localised Task Force.

4. Task Force, eh? Wussat?
Localised teams of people who want to help, in terms of real hands-and-legs help. There are NGOs and organizations working in cities. They always need volunteers, but don't know who. We know people who want to help but don’t know where and how. HERE is where we all come together; it’s the era of social networking. Let’s put it to good use. Then there are resident welfare associations or even five group of friends who want to do some good. Whoever wants to pitch in, does. We point them to ways they can. It could be someone in Australia, wanting to do that elusive ‘something’. Come, let’s all think and figure ways we can find different somethings for people to do. No one is a waste.

5. What can we do?
A whole LOT of things! While everyone is welcome to go ahead with whatever Little Steps they have in mind; to get large numbers to join, we NEED to spread the word. Here are some tried and tested ideas on how you can pitch in. Yes, some of you guys have actually been doing things! For the next few weeks – say till end of September – help us spread the word. Tell people. Talk. Forward links. And of course, those who want to actively participate, there’s the Task Force (write to me).

Strategy 1: Copy, Paste & Print

The first extra Little Thing you can do to help:

1. Someone did the “least intrusive, most effective” thing: Made bookmarks with the logo and our slogan and inserted them in books in two major bookstores in Chicago city. The books he chose for the placement were Harry Potter, Indian cooking and world culture.
It’s a damn good idea. The book mark design is this--->
Even if you make 5 book marks and distribute amongst friends who read (books and blogs), it would be nice. Even if they don’t read, share the concept of Shitizens and let them know it can be the Most Easily Done Little Thing they want to do.

2. Another wrote in to say that he will be taking print outs and post them on his office soft board, “it will get the people who come to chat”. While everyone is not expected to put five sheets up, take a print out of that book mark and stick it on the board! Or use little strips of double sided tape and put it in one corner of your car window. Let Shitizens be seen all around!

3. Tell NGOs about us: NOT the ones who embezzle money. But if you know people who are REALLY helping, tell them about us, lead them to us. We will get them volunteers and help spread the word about what they are doing. Those who are doing good things WILL be heard.

4. Keep those old socks: And of course, if you have socks that have lost one partner and you are not wearing them, give them to a destitute. Those in Delhi, if someone can collect socks in your neighbourhood – please don’t be embarrassed, you are helping, not begging – and drop me an email when you have a substantial number, will come and pick those up. And no, do not use this as methods to meet; retribution will be extreme. I am no little social worker; am very ferocious. :)

PS: Please don't think that you HAVE to do bookmarks or bug 100 people. Don't want to, don't! Just do YOUR little thing... That's it.

I will not throw cigarette butts on the road (am carrying an empty match box for portable ashtray). That is my contribution today. Yours?

Lesson 10: Children of an Abused Nation

2007-09-05T13:01:00.000-07:00

Contributed by J Bo

Statutory warning: What lies ahead is unpleasant. Perhaps. It could also be familiar. And that's my contribution today. Yours?

It’s a common sight to find a traffic jam on a fly-over in Delhi. Most jams here are usually due to a single moron. These are people who – in the middle of after-work traffic – decide to turn their vehicle in the opposite direction to common sense. It was nearing twilight and I was sitting in the autorickshaw, stuck in one such jam. You could see the slums below, not too many, just an odd cluster, sporadically strewn around, with little chulhas – two bricks surround by three A-4 size, tin sheets to keep the wind out -- beginning to smoke. There was this man and kid, maybe 6, maybe 10, standing at a distance from one of the hovel clusters.

From the top, I could see his back and that he was somewhat aged and was wearing a lungi. The traffic had begun moving again. Both him and the child were staring into the beyond, with the old man’s hands on the kid’s shoulder. The auto had moved and with another turn I would lose sight of the pair. And then the old man had looked around furtively and lifted his lungi and guided the kid’s hand and we turned. Twilight tricks? I was wearing specs.

Third year of college, to and fro was usually on Delhi Transport Corporation buses. Now general rule in Delhi buses is to head straight for the ‘only for ladies’ seats. Often, there are men sitting on these seats and of course they don’t get up. They resolutely look outside or anywhere but at the women standing around them. Women often have verbal skirmishes with such men. The others usually watch. So this woman gets on with two children – tot in arms and little girl, 4-ish, by side – and an old man, surprisingly, offers his seat. She declines and insists he keep sitting. He does and then kindly, makes the little girl perch on his lap. It was all very symbiotic.

To prevent the child falling off, Old Man kept his hands on the child’s knees, she wore a dark blue frock. A little later, I thought that his hand was a little higher on the child’s thighs. Yet no one else looked bothered, so I continued looking outside as well. Some more time later, the man’s fingers were under the frock’s hem. “Janaab, aap kya kar rahein?” had escaped my mouth before I could… I don’t know what. (What are you doing mister?)

At that moment, the bus stopped to let some more people in. And something weird happened. The old man started opening and closing his mouth like a gold fish; but the mother… She clutched the tot even tighter to her bosom, snatched the little girl off the old man’s lap and stalked off the bus; shoving me hard in the process. Before she alit, she turned and gave me one of the most hateful looks I have ever received in my life. I don’t want to think about what that look meant. Did she hate me for stopping it? Or because she knew and yet hadn’t opened her mouth? Everyone else kept on looking outside.

Happened to discuss the above episodes with someone. The response? “These lower class people; they can do anything.”

End of part one

So the Indian youth are apparently losing their virginity at the ripe age of 19. ‘Generation X, Y, Z values virginity over pre-marital sex’ read the jubilant headlines. What rot. But then, they mean ‘technical’ virginity. Like pop the cherry. But what about fringe benefits? Or pre-loaders?

Like He lost his ‘virginity’ at age four. Daily, when his ayah/maid gave him a bath. It was an exercise in mutual fondling. “I didn’t mind it, thought I knew it was wrong,” he said. “For a long time I had wondered if I would go to hell for liking it, I was afraid I was dying, each time I… till I was 13,” he says. He is a man of words, when he talks, he pours. Or Her, feeling guilty about asking him, “Dad, why did you feel my breasts all those years back?” She is not guilty for him, but, “Mom didn’t know. Shit. She had tears in her eyes. Maybe I should have kept quiet?” But she is sane, she turned out just fine.

Or Him narrating how he looked much older than anyone else since he was, well, hirsute. He also has a very nice voice, but a baritone at 14 isn’t always a good thing. It was his Math tuition teacher, she was 26. “I just closed my eyes and couldn’t…no control, so I came early…” he hesitated, trying to make it sound cute while he has ever since been mortified. Scared of women, why, who would have thought that? It is a scary thought. Because when people get scared of each other, they do mean, underhanded things to balance the status quo.

Or take her, another Daddy’s personal pleasure possum. Now in families where Fathers drink – or there is alcoholism – there is always this pervasive sense of fear. Of not doing a thing out of place that could lead to an argument. You don't do anything that could catch anyone's eye. Drunks always yell. Whether men or women. And look ugly too. So in drunk-at-home families, there is always The Hour, when the first drink begins, after which you pretty much pray you are not The Chosen One. Some drunk parents beat kids, others emotionally destroy kids, still others forget that the child is not just flesh and blood, but His/Her flesh and blood. Another almost-case where a 15-year-old brain told her to keep her legs tightly clenched while Daddy drunk, groped for the drawstrings. The alcohol made him sleepy and he left without much trying. “I still don’t know if I should be grateful that he drank so much that night…” is all she says, sipping her whiskey. (And oh, when you are drinking at 25 or 32, you will become a drunk parent for sure.)

And him, Senor Don Juan Desi: If it moves, will do. When it comes to sexually respecting women, he thinks the lowest of them and serially cheats on the women he says he loves. He wouldn’t agree to it though. The reason? Older women; he was always a rather good-looking boy. He was mostly let down by mother figures. The first was his best friend’s mother. Apparently, his own mother knew about it.

How many other mothers keep quiet? Do the parents really not know… or they don’t have the balls to accept it and speak up? Which part is tougher: Taking on the Predator or explaining it to the child? We have 53.22 per cent children ABUSED. Crudely, that’s half the kids you see playing every evening in any given park. (and that’s from the surveyed sample, we are a huge nation) If it’s 53 % kids abused; those kids grow up to be adults. So a nation of abused adults. Which way do they swing? Victims or predators?

Perhaps let's say it is rampant the world over. But does everyone stay as hush about it as we do? Given the long time Indian families stay together – be it joint family or meeting relatives frequently for festivals and weddings – our abuse cases are mostly close family. Fifty per cent are close relatives or known people, says report released by the Ministry of Women and Child Development. Or perhaps that’s the nature of child abuse: We sire to devour. And it’s not low-class, high-class. When it comes to children, everyone likes a bite. So now I don’t bother asking, “What was your first time like?” Most of us are lying.

PS: I will not be a mute spectator. I will try and have balls.

The Report Says on Sexual Abuse

1. 53.22% children reported having faced one or more forms of sexual abuse.
2. Andhra Pradesh, Assam, Bihar and Delhi reported the highest percentage of sexual abuse among both boys and girls.
3. 21.90% child respondents reported facing severe forms of sexual abuse and 50.76% other forms of sexual abuse.
4. Out of the child respondents, 5.69% reported being sexually assaulted.
5. Children in Assam, Andhra Pradesh, Bihar and Delhi reported the highest incidence of sexual assault.
6. Children on street, children at work and children in institutional care reported the highest incidence of sexual assault.
7. 50% abuses are persons known to the child or in a position of trust and responsibility.
8. Most children did not report the matter to anyone.

Lesson 9: Who is the Indian Shitizen?

2007-09-04T19:50:00.000-07:00

I will be polite to the housekeeping boys and security guards, or will at least keep my mouth shut each time I want to be rude. That would be my contribution today. Yours?

Contributed by Citizen Mohit (on the Rocks)

Who is this Indian Shitizen? That’s the question I asked myself the first time I came across this term and that exactly was the question I could hear in my friends’ tones. I guess everyone who has been on our sites has their own interpretation of this term. Here’s mine!

Please Note: Using ‘he’ comes more natural to me but this generally applies to the ‘she’ too – unless noted otherwise.

The Shitizen's Past
He was brought up in a middle class house with middle class dreams. He is mostly the child of a government servant or a small business owner (the parchun ki dukaan types a.k.a the Mom ‘n’ Pop stores in the West). Not very long ago, he used to study in a school and dream of becoming an engineer or doctor and work hard to buy his own new motorcycle, not a Harley Davidson but a more down to earth Hero Honda Splendor or a Kawasaki Bajaj RTZ. It was supposed to be an upgrade from his father’s Bajaj Super/Chetak (or, as in my case, a Vijay Super!).

Maruti 800 would be the next step towards a successful life. While he was opening up with cable television in his home bringing an end to the monopoly of the monotonous Doordarshan with the advent of Zee TV and MTV, there was still no competition to the 20 minute news capsule (back to back at 09:20 PM in Hindi and at 09:40 PM in English) that would update him on all that was to know in the world of politics, states, sports and the weather. Entertainment folks never made it to the news unless they died.

He would dream of getting into an IIT and make it to the big companies which at that time meant Samtel (makers of picture tubes for almost all brand TVs in India, at least at that time) or one of the TV makers themselves (Onida, Videocon) or of course the core manufacturing giants like BHEL, SAIL (remember the “There’s a little bit of SAIL in everyone’s lives” ad before the news?), Tata Steel and the like. His career choice was made (or doomed) at the age of 16 when he was asked to choose Science or Commerce. Did I say choice? Ha … a big HAH! It was mostly on the basis of marks in the Class X Board exams (remember your parents and teachers telling you, “These are the exams that will define your life beta”?). Commerce was not an option; it was a majboori. People taking commerce were looked down upon. They were not seen as people who genuinely wanted to study Commerce; they obviously didn’t get science.

USA was not a friend; we were not aligned with any of the super powers. So what if we just had a fascination for all things Russian when it came to strategic defense infrastructure and know-how? To appear fair to the world, we did let US planes refuel their tanks in Indian airbases during the Gulf War. USA was supposed to be for Punjabi and Gujarati families who would sell off their assets in India to fly to Amreeka [America] to work in gas stations and motels. People looked at the angry-young-man of Bollywood and public leaders for inspiration.

Marriage between a Punjabi and a Madrasi was only possible in Ek Duje Ke Liye. Fair skin was the number one criterion for considering a girl beautiful. Amitabh Bachchan would be seen with Rajiv Gandhi. Anu Malik was the favorite whipping boy for his “inspired” music and outspokenness. Prannoy Roy with his Friday night program, The World This Week, was the favorite newsman while Vinod Dua had a similar status in Hindi journalism. Sardar+ music meant bhangra and Daler Mehndi, of course, TV serials meant a span of 13 episodes (for whatever reason).

Rules Back Then
There were some basic rules of the game in those days.
1. You never get into a fight with a government servant; he could be a line man, postman or a chapraasi but if he works for the government, it meant that he had control over a lot of luxuries in your life. You could say goodbye to your letters or telephone service if you so much as hinted of an altercation with the Sarkari Karamchari unless, of course, you were the offspring of either his boss or a policewallah.
2. A girl and a boy could never be friends. They were either brother-sister or husband-wife. Apart from that, a boy had to be a friend of the girl’s younger brother to be able to talk to her and that too only to ask her to call her brother. He would have to imagine the rest of the conversation later at night, in his dreams.
3. Sikhs were supposed to be Khalistan; Christians were peaceful and loving people as long as they stuck to teaching in English-medium convent schools. Muslims were supposed to be Muslims first and Indians later. Hindus were obviously the righteous ones because their political leaders were the ones setting the perspectives about all others.
4. Politicians cared and worked for their vote bank only: So what if a certain Rajiv Goswami burns himself alive to protest against their policies?

His Present
The Indian Shitizen of today is young and works out of plush offices not the sarkari daftars.
He suddenly found himself in this new world where Kawasaki Bajaj RTZ went out of production and Hero Honda Splendor became just another entry level bike. The Indian Shitizen can realistically buy an expensive Harley Davidson clone now, if he wants.

He can afford to buy a Ford Ikon as soon as he gets his first job (and a lot of them do buy one). Yes, loans are no more a social taboo they once were. Cable television is the only television for him now. News is now broadcast 24 hours a day for him on exclusive news channels. 20 minutes news? Are you kidding? That would be the time that is spent on just “our top story tonight” with everybody and their mommy chipping in with their analysis. Yes, news items became “stories”.

IIT is still a dream today but you can get into any of the big multinational software companies with a degree from your friendly neighborhood engineering college, which is only a little unfriendly to the pocket. Shimla and Ooty have given way to Phuket Island and Mauritius as top honeymoon spots… and New Year parties. You don’t have to pack your assets in India to go to US now – software engineers go for a few years and come back (or not); some even go just for vacations. The US consulate in Mumbai now has a dedicated separate counter for “Shahs and Patels”; the Delhi counterpart has one for those speaking only Punjabi or Hindi.

Angry young man is out; today’s Shitizen looks at reality show stars for inspiration. The Aneek Dhars (Sa Re Ga Ma Pa 2007) and the Amit Sanas (first Indian Idol ), coming from small towns to make it big on or behind the silver screen have made it to our drawing rooms (which are now known as living rooms, by the way). Atal Bihari Vajpayee was the most favorite politician of the youth of today; (With all due respect to Vajpayee ji) I will not be completely wrong if I say that it was because the youth did not know of any other leaders.

Marriages between a Punjabi and a Madrasi have come out from Bollywood movies to real life even as Bollywood itself gets more real than ever in movies like Satya. Girls are no more judged beautiful based on their fair skin. Amitabh Bachchan is now seen with Amar Singh. Baaju hat (move aside) Anu Malik; Himesh Reshammiya has taken over as the favorite whipping boy as he becomes bigger than Anu Malik ever was (and, as he claims, even RD Burman)! He espouses the Indian Shitizen like few other – does what he wants and likes to do and does not give a damn about what his detractors think of it, as long as he enjoys his work and knows that. Prannoy Roy is still respected but Rajdeep Sardesai (whom my father describes as “ek puraane first class cricketer ka ladka hai, achcha bolta hai, kaafi achche achche points uthata hai” [he is the son of an old first class cricketer, speaks well, brings out very good points]) has captured the imagination of the current youth. Sardar + music now also means guitar based Sufi-Rock! TV serials now go for so long that characters have to die because an actor leaves midway for another serial (also starting with K, of course).

The current Indian Shitizen has seen a world of change in his lifetime. Looking back now, it seems that till one fine day, it was the past and suddenly he came into the present with all its changes, for good or bad.

But some things didn’t change
So a lot of things changed for the Indian youth from his adolescence years to adulthood. But there has been little change in his attitude towards the government and vice versa. Public corporations, for the most part, have become synonymous with losses and red-tapism and corruption. A girl and a boy can be friends today (not all agree to this even today) but they run the risk of being pulled up and beaten by Shiv Sainiks or RSS workers, especially close to Valentine’s Day. Parents don’t mind if their daughter comes back from the college with her guy friend but the self-appointed custodians of Indian culture don’t care for what you and I think.
Religion is still a controversial subject. Sikhs have been absolved of the terrorism ‘charge’ but the Muslims have been put in that mold now. A normal Hindu and Muslim still don’t have any problem with each other but “Hindu-Muslim relations” as portrayed by the politicians are at an all time low with riots and bomb blasts occurring recursively. Politicians still make policies to please the vote bank –Rajiv Goswami is dead now and the striking doctors protesting against the govt are shown as heartless people not tending to their patients. Arjun Singh scares the hell out of the Indian Shitizen by recommending reservation in the private sector too.

Problems facing the country are frustrating but the common man has found alternate ways. For example - No electricity? No problem – get an apartment in one of the buildings selling two bedroom flats for 40 lacs with a clubhouse and 24 hour electricity and water supply. For every thing public, there is a private (and more often better, even if more expensive) counterpart. Schools, Hospitals, even roads (e.g. toll roads like the Noida toll road); the list goes on.

Since the common man found ways to circumvent the things that didn’t change, he lost interest in the nation. Talking about politics became passé. It was a surprise if someone knew the names of the chief ministers of more than 2 or three states. People today don’t know the number of states we have in the country. They know about the Osama and Clinton campaign more than the fact that we could be facing mid-term elections in this country.

But some of them have had enough shit from the politicians and people who have their own personal agenda in keeping the country backwards or in inciting revengeful religious sentiments. They are the people who want to bring India back into our mental frame; to at least increase the awareness of issues facing us and, where possible, take steps to help. Those people, I believe, are the INDIAN SHITIZENS!

(PS: It was difficult reading Mohit's piece in one go, simply because even as I was reading the story, I kept pinging Mohit to tell how this-has-happened-in-my-life-too. The Indian Shitizen could be a liquor baron and son, the next top supermodel, someone not just born with a silver spoon but the entire effing cutlery set in his mouth... and as Mohit has written, a HUGE population of our country, are the Middle Classes Children. Bajaj Priya was Papa's first scooter and I stood before him on that scooter for 12 long years before we got our first car - a Maruti 800 that was electric blue in colour, second-hand -- in 1991. It's funny and amusing how a LOT of my younger friends today and never-been-on-a-scooter types often say when they spot a "family" on a two-wheeler, "Oh my gaaaawd, HOW can they sit with kids dangling like that on scooters? It is dangerous, they should not. Seat belts bhi nahi hai!" Right. For those 12 years that Papa drove with me infront and Mamma at the back and bhai on her lap; we never had an accident. NEVER. Oh that scooter is STILL around -- and called Akbar -- I learnt gears on that and forever since, MISTRUSTED anything gear-less. It's like riding a goat.
Thanks Mohit: Very nostalgic.
Task Force: I missed a date today, please understand, my sense of time zones SUCKS. So I might be thinking I am uploading on 4th while it ends up becoming 5th. :| One post missed. SO PLEASE point out.

Introducing: You Don't Know Who

2007-09-03T14:16:00.001-07:00

On the Indo-US nuclear policy for laymen

You-Don't-Know-Who: That someone/blogger/person who would usually be in a position of authority - either directly or with direct authority to speak on authority -- and will give us bits of their wisdom or their two bits; which of course you are free to decide, for self. They might choose to remain undisclosed and not reveal their shitizenship because of parental, occupational, situational or spousal pressure. In absolute empathy and a hope they would come out of the closet soon, here's some insight from our first You Don't Know Who (YDKW).

YDKW1 is someone who hobnobs with People with Power and knows things we Might Not Know. So perhaps he will share them here. Also, this other-worldly tone will be dropped in usual posts. I am feeling enigmatic and all. Also, that the bit about Atoms for Peace and 20 Gwe completely got me. Poetry and politics, of the nuclear kind. I just understood that much and it makes me queasy; you go figure.
J Bo, Over and Out
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Explaining the Nuclear Deal: Issues to Think About

The brouhaha over the nuclear deal has created a great more noise than light. Most people don't really know what is happening, and it does not help that our esteemed MPs are choosing to exaggerate and shout rather than debate the merits or demerits of the deal. In a few short paragraphs, here are the bare bones of the deal:

What is India's nuclear position?
India's nuclear energy program began in the 1950s with a great deal of involvement of the United States through the Atoms for Peace program, including helping build and providing nuclear fuel for the nuclear reactor in Tarapur, as well as through scientific cooperation. Differences arose in 1968 with India's opposition to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT). The NPT recognises five states (US, USSR/Russia, UK, France and China) as Nuclear Weapons States on the basis that they tested nuclear weapons before 1967. India considers this discriminatory. [i] Signatories to the NPT are allowed access to each other's civilian nuclear facilities. After 1974, when India tested its first nuclear device, the US formed the Nuclear Suppliers Group (NSG), to oversee sales of nuclear material. In 1978 the US Congress passed the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Act but the US continued to provide some nuclear fuel to India under a 1963 treaty with India until 1980, when it passed on those responsibilities to France.
In 1992 the NSG limited sales of nuclear technology and materials to non-Nuclear Weapons States only if their nuclear reactors were under full scale safeguards implemented by the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA). France continued to provide nuclear fuel to India until it too adhered to this provision in 1996. China and Russia have supplied India with nuclear fuel after this period. Nuclear energy in 2006 accounted for 3 GigaWatts of electricity, or 2.6 per cent of India's electricity generation. [ii]

India plans on expanding the amount of electricity generated by nuclear energy to 20 GWe by 2020 (this is from nuclear plants already under construction). Except that we have a lack of Uranium. Most of our Uranium is low quality, except some newly discovered deposits that have as yet to be mined. Our plants are running at under 40% capacity when they could be running at above 90%. In another words we are paying more than twice the costs of electricity generated by nuclear energy because we are stopped from buying nuclear fuel because of NPT and NSG guidelines.

What does the nuclear deal do?
The nuclear deal will allow us to buy some (though not all) nuclear fuel and technology from the US, and it commits the US (which is the most important member of the NSG) to convince other members of the NSG to change their guidelines so that India can also buy fuel from them.

What do we pay for this deal?
Money. The deal allows them to sell us nuclear fuel and technology and it allows us to buy it from them. That is the bare bones. The complications are that we will have to put 14 out of our 22 nuclear plants under supervision of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) and promise to use those reactors only for civilian purposes. This will apply to most of the new reactors that will be built.

Does this mean we cannot build, or test, nuclear weapons?
We can build as many nuclear weapons as we want, as long as the fuel is from the military nuclear facilities. If we test nuclear weapons we have a problem, with the US at the least. The US is bound by its Atomic Energy Act of 1954 and the Hyde Act, 2006, that will mean it cannot sell us fuel if we test nuclear weapons. The Agreed Text of the nuclear deal does not talk about nuclear testing, but simply says that national laws will apply. This is what happened in the earlier Tarapur case. The US had to stop supplying fuel under its own laws, and passed the responsibilities on to others. In reality we don't know when, or if, we will have to test nuclear weapons, and if and when it happens, we can try and negotiate a position then. As things stand now, if we test, the US will have to stop supplying us with nuclear fuel & equipment. The only way to beat that is to convince the US to change its laws.

Why do people dislike the deal?
Critics of the deal feel that we are losing the independence of our policy options by signing up to this deal. We will have to put a large part of our nuclear infrastructure under international supervision, and if things go wrong we will have bought large expensive nuclear energy plants and not be able to buy fuel for them. They insist that we should concentrate on clean coal and other alternative sources of energy. The reality is that we don't have clean coal technology and the coal we use for electricity production is immensely polluting. Solar, and hydrothermal power is unreliable, expensive and just not enough.

The other main reason that people dislike the deal is that they feel it is an excuse by which the US will try and control India. In reality the deal is just a civilian nuclear deal, not a military compact. India is bound by its own laws, nobody else's, this does not change that. the deal also allows us to buy nuclear fuel and technology from anybody and also to buy enough fuel for the lifetime of the nuclear reactors. If the US, for any reason, terminates the deal, it has to pay compensation.

Bottom line
We are a growing power, with a hungry economy. We need energy, and we also need to make new relationships. This is part of that process. It could be a better deal, but you don't negotiate with a superpower and get everything we want. In the real world life is about compromises, to quote a former US Ambassador who I know well, "What people need to remember is that both sides were negotiating as much by what they left out as by what they put in. Their objectives were largely, but not entirely, compatible. India can demonstrate that it is not bound by unilateral US requirements. The US can demonstrate, albeit with a little more difficulty, that it can fully abide by US law under the 123 agreement. Neither side can get the comfort involved in having its maximum desires spelled out."

[i]. Indian government position on NPT and other treaties dealing with non-proliferation: http://www.indianembassy.org/policy/CTBT/embassy_non_proliferation.htm .
[ii]. "Nuclear Power in India" Briefing Paper 45, Uranium Information Centre, http://www.uic.com.au/nip45.htm.
______________________________________________________________

PS: Ok, one question. When we say, we will have to pay 'money --> does the government have like contingency funds -- money for a rainy day, like when we (govt) sign a nuclear deal or something -- or does that us paying money mean more taxes soon? Paisa kahan se aata hai?
I don't understand, I will ask. Shrug. Shamelessly. So, all those who wish to write, or click photos (no one? anyone?), make videos, make podcasts, cartoon strips with Desi, better, neater versions of Desi... feel free! You got the email, here it goes: foxytanya@gmail.com.
Hmmm...at the rate I am saying that line, I think I need a jingle.

Lesson 8: Are you easy, or are you good?

2007-09-03T00:59:00.000-07:00

Contributed by Citizen Crimson

(From J Bo: Well, for those who read us, hear about us (dheere dheere) and even those who laugh at us… Thanks! Some things work as motivation, others work as irritants and still others simply make us grit our teeth, grin and bear it and some of us… well, we send early morning emails to others. Had emailed the contributors and those helping out, conveying gratitude I really DO feel. You see, people find it far easier to wear their sexuality on their sleeves than they would wearing their patriotism. Or wish for a better life. Or whatever high-faluda funda you want to call it. We see it as Simple Steps To Better Living. And of course if we can rake some dirt on the things and people-things that bother us; we will. Today’s post, is Citizen Crimson’s response to the email I had sent out two days back. He writes...)

There are very few expressions that have as much of a positive, infectious energy as a sincerely written "Thank you note". Do you remember the last one you received? Chances are it was very long ago, and you still have it preserved somewhere. A 'thank you' is an acknowledgement of something that was well intended, a symbol of a smile somewhere, a mark of a world worth living in, if only for that one single moment.

Have you looked into the eyes of a thankful person? They pour out affection, for everything. Would you not feel the world to be a better place, only if you could see it in the eyes of every stranger, that he was thankful for something somewhere?

Why do you think those "thank you" notes after an Oscar/Miss XYZ etc are so long? Not even a single person, who needs to be thanked, should be missed. The feeling of being thankful, I have come to realise, is blissfully fulfilling for everyone.

How often have we been thankful for all that we have? And expressed it too? When was the last time YOU wrote your heartfelt "thank you note"? Why is it rare? Why does it need a reason and occasion?

And why, more often than not, we choose to "blame for what went wrong" rather than 'thank for what went right'? Are we inherently a thankless bunch of souls, who don't give a damn to what's happening right in our lives? Are we always looking for catching collars rather than patting backs? I cringe at the thought, and I want it to be shoved aside as a symptom of a malfunctioning neuron in my brain, that needs repair.

Heres my bit as the Shitizen:

I thank my family, for making me all that I am and for giving me everything that I ever wanted.
I thank my friends, for the learning, unlearning and relearning I have had with them, through them.
I thank the good politicians, for staying good against all odds, as I realise how unbearable the pressures can be.
I thank the honest police officials, for their excruciatingly lonely attempts to make a difference in an idle system.
I thank those media professionals, who genuinely entered the media world to make a difference, and are still not driven by TRP's.
I thank that English teacher, who made me read The Hitchhikers' Guide To The Galaxy, as my first book.
I thank that old man, who was shouting slogans at a traffic signals, urging everyone to follow the traffic rules.
I thank that stranger, who had my laptop returned to my address when I had...(well lets leave it at that :) )
I thank all those individuals, who are trying to make a positive difference to the world around them, in their own small way.

I thank all the good people, simply for being good!

Thank You ALL!

Word of the day (contributed by First Shitizen of India): Desident; the original of the word dissident. Meaning: When other fellow Indians drive with their car noses sticking in your car's behind and sudden braking causes everyone's noses to be in everyone's, er, behinds. Cars I mean. (grin)

PS: And Citizen CRIMSON: TELL that laptop story...sounds like a fun one...now that you did get it back and all. :D Tell, tell! Phir kya hua...?

Lesson 7: Sab chalta hai?

2007-09-02T02:58:00.000-07:00

By (Citizen) Mohit On The Rocks
also our Wordpress coordinator: The Indian Shitizen on Wordpress

Desi word of the day: Hitchki, the original of the word 'hitch'. Happens when you're trying something and something else happens. Or that reaction when Sachin Tendulkar is playing REALLY well and then suddenly, gets out. (Ha, ha, you dont have to agree, you know! Any more suggestions for Hindi words that might have inspired English ones? *evil grin*)

A few years ago, when the prime minister of Singapore, having heard of India's supremacy in the Information Technology sector, came to India, he had this to say (roughly): "Nowhere in the world have I ever seen such a striking disparity in the potential of the people and the infrastructure of the country". A friend of mine narrated that story years ago; and of late – when I generally can't even remember the name of the last movie I’ve seen, and there have been a few hundred Bolly and Hollywood movies – I have not forgotten that statement. Now you don’t have to go through a whole lot of studies to prove that.

Just look around you: Your daily life starts with no electricity at home. You either have a smoke-coughing generator or an inverter or an illegal line drawing power from somewhere you are not supposed to. On the road, you see auto-wallahs driving with no regard for anyone else. You too resort to driving zigzag just to keep up with the anarchy. You wonder how the guy before you managed a license to drive. You then smile at your naivet; of course he got it the way you got yours. A few green bills and you didn’t even have to go to the RTO.

While you criss-cross through the daily traffic maze, a cop pulls you over. You have been riding your motorcycle on the footpath… And your amazement knows no bounds. You feel like Sanjay Dutt: Trying to tell the cop, “I was just doing what everyone else does. How come I am the only one who gets caught?” The cop is impervious to your logic till you remind him of Mahatma Gandhi: On the face of a Rs 500 bill. Long Live India; he will also oblige you with a few tips on any other “checkposts” so that you can keep some of your Gandhigiri in your pocket.
At the next traffic signal, you come across a billboard showing the Prime Minister urging the youth of the country to come forward and do your nation proud. Do the nation proud? I would feel proud enough if I can make it to office on time today without another thulla stopping me.

The point being: You and I were optimistic about our country once but somewhere down the line the fight for Our Daily Life became so monstrous that fighting for our nation started to be more of a fantasy.

I want to talk about a fascinating concept I read in the book Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell: the Theory of Broken Windows. In the words of the author, "If a window is broken and left unrepaired, people walking by will conclude that no one cares and no one is in charge. Soon, more windows will be broken, and the sense of anarchy will spread from the building to the street on which it faces, sending a signal that anything goes (or the ubiquitous Chalta Hai, in local parlance). In a city, relatively minor problems like graffiti, public disorder, and aggressive panhandling are all invitations to more serious crimes." While the author talks about this in the context of New York City crime in the 1990s, I can see it perfectly applicable in our case.
This “no one cares attitude” is our broken window. Like ANY Government Office, since that is where most of the frustration is directed.

How to spot a Government Office
The first thing you notice are the dirty stairwells stinking with ammonia levels approximately that of public urinals, if not higher. Paan spit uniformly paints the wall in what looks like a deliberate attempt at decorating with a weird kind of modern art. Broken furniture greets you; unkempt walls stare at you with graffiti asking you to "Chalo Ayodhya" or get a cure for your "Gupt Rog". Pamphlets of coaching classes would have clearly hidden any board with printed directions for the common man on How To Proceed. Babus sitting behind piles of files sipping away at their tea, chatting with other babus or agents who are the only people authorized by the Babus to get your work done, for a commission, of course. Even with an agent, when you finally get across to one babu, he would ultimately decide that you need the signature of Pandey ji across the hall before he can work on it - just a euphemistic way of saying that Pandey ji also has to buy sweets for his kids. The common man, having made no sense of the affairs of that office, ultimately gives in to the agents-babu nexus to get the work done as also to get the hell-out-of-that government office.

Now, you could threaten the babu with legal action against bribery or even launch a stealth camera thing but chances are he won’t even as-much-as-flinch. His rationale: When the government cannot even keep the street dogs from shitting anywhere in the office, when they can't keep anyone from spitting on any wall, when they can't display proper directions for a common man about the pyramid structure of the office describing who can be approached in case of any dissatisfaction with a lower level babu, how in the world are they going to take action against him?

It dawns upon you that the dirty office is probably meant to drive home the point that over here, sab chalta hai (anything goes) aur kisi ko farak nahin padta (and no one gives a damn).

PS: The original post by Mohit had more on the lines of “let’s do something”. Have deliberate held that bit back…will share very, very soon. Till then, as I have requested Mohit, have patience, have trust. Ha ha, me asking for ‘trust’ is a VERY funny thing. This is Miss Cynic talking! But then, let’s say, decide for yourself, whether you think this is worthwhile or not. Pretty soon.

2. Also, am putting everyone's names up: as contributors and commentators. EVEN if you take up an assumed identity, do it. It encourages others that they are not alone in 'this'. :) Shrug.

3. Citizen alert: mohit's down with fever: Here go get well soon wishes from the Entire citizenship; known, unknown, anonymous. :)

Lesson 6: Amna Ali says ...

2007-09-01T03:38:00.000-07:00

"...to strike, to seek and not to yield."

No matter who you are, or where.
If you are a Muslim student who faces funny jokes and jibes: Do not yield.
If you are a girl who has a hearing problem and wears hearing-aids and has colleagues laughing at you: Do not yield. YOU earn your living; nobodys' papa gives it to you. Remember that.
If you are a Bihari editor of a newspaper and people STILL snigger at your accent: Keep looking them in the eye and getting them by their balls. Do not yield.
If you think your nose looks bad and are not trying for a job on TV, remember makeup fixes everything. Do not yield.
If you want to write and people tell you only well-written blogs are read. Bullshit. It's all in an idea. And you guys should read the REAL copies that come in before appearing in newspapers. Do not yield. Put out that blog.
If your boss says you are only good for menial work (say only a shopping page and not the cover story). Do not yield. wait for a better opportunity, it will come. Keep your eyes open and your CV ready.
If you want to be a photographer and your family business is ball-bearings. Do not yield. Keep shooting unseen parts of Kashmir.
If you are a rich man's wife who teaches slum kids how to learn computers and people don't understand you. Do not yield.
If you are the news editor and your team does not like you. Do not yield.
If you are a mother living only for your child. Do not yield.

You don't have to fight or scream. Just do your job and stick your ground. And if you really want the nail to hit home, smile. This is not Gandhiri. This is psychology. A bully never likes being smiled at. It makes him look stupid. Like dogs on the street. If they come charging at you, stand your ground and ask it to stop, loudly. It will. Of course, if you see a dog that is frothing in the mouth, do NOT try and talk to it. Climb a tree. If you have a gun, shoot it. Same with bullies and people. Stand your ground. Ask them to stop. Or keep quiet and smile. And no, you cannot shoot people. No matter how tempted. Definitely not with an AK-47. :) And all the cases mentioned above in the post are REAL people, Indians all, I know. Damn. Neat show, I say!

You are here!

2007-08-31T19:48:00.000-07:00

Also, The Indian Shitizen group/community is on Orkut too. With two members. Heh heh. Those who are not on Facebook and want to keep track through Orkut, please do so.

PS: in that screen shot pic, text says: "Questions are pretty much being asked by every single one of us out there."

Hello...
This idea is inspired by the Dastangoi tradition, a performance I am yet to see live. If there can be stories inspired by Persian folk lore; there are mannnnyyy stories in our folk tales.
Wait till you hear about the ghoda bhoot...Sleepy Hollow seems a comedy before THAT one and my 80-year-old granny told me that.

You know, when growing up, I loved the Amar Chitra Katha and Panchtantra stories, very good stories and fun series. I remember this particular story about a war between Owls and Crows, and duderinos! That story had strategy, angle, emotion, action, everything. :D I am thinking...how about doing Panchtantra story-telling/reading sessions? We become one character each...and hmm...work it out. I am on. Who's interested?

PS: Anyone have old comics around? Don't want the comics, but can you photocopy stories for us? Can we discuss what all we guys might have? Am gonna call Mom tonight, I think I should have a nice bunch... even old Champaks and Tinkle would do. C'mon people, if you know people who might have them, do approach them for us. Or put me on to them.

Coordinators needed

2007-08-31T06:54:00.000-07:00

Hello,

Need someone to take over/start a version of this blog on Wordpress (of course with links here). Will start the blog, but need someone to be moderator/admin with me there.

Similarly, am thinking having another version on Sulekha.com, will be good for us too. We could put out small posts as intros and lead to this blog. What say people? Volunteers?

Also, who has a good voice, clear speech, time and interest in doing podcasts for us?

Mail back: foxytanya@gmail.com

PS: Today we got two contributions, one from Citizen Carebear and another from Madhusmita. Will be using those two subsequently. We also saw Amin, Amna and Soil&Music interacting for the first time.Welcome and thank-you guys!

Lesson 5: Hindu-Muslim, bhai-bhai?

2007-08-30T15:42:00.000-07:00

It happens only in India

(bhai = brother)

I will not stereotype any section or community; even if it means asking my friend to shutup with a stupid joke. If I cannot stand up against religious-cultural bullshit/stereotyping; I will not actively participate in stereotyping. That’s my bit today. Yours?

Those of you who tune in to the news must have seen the video or heard the news about the chain-snatcher being lynched by the public in the Bhagalpur district of Bihar. What initially started out as a case of a mob going out of hand and the police abetting in the inhuman treatment – the thief was tied to a police bike and then dragged on the ground – is now becoming a religious-shenanigan. Rabble-rousers Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD) has decided to provoke the public by saying that the chain-snatcher was beaten because he was a Muslim. And of course, India being India, certain people are getting over-excited.

And yet I wonder, is it just the uneducated who can be swayed by religious sentiments? I am an educated Indian – perhaps far less educated than the doctorates and other bigger degrees that one is supposed to have, am not even a post-graduate – but I have been to one of the best colleges in the country and am also a media professional. Given those two facts, tolerance for religious differences should come rather easily to me. Sort of part of the job, ethics, etc.

Political Science was one of the media papers in college and my final year 100-mark thesis was on Shiv Sena and the hand Saamna and Marmik (those were the Marathi newspapers brought out by the Shiv Sena) played in the 1993-94 Mumbai riots. I had run away from home - to Mumbai - to well, interview Bal Thackeray. But my father and my college sabotaged that attempt... Anyway. So I pretty much STUDIED the way religious sentiments are played up, incited and played out for vested interests and yet…

A year back there were bomb blasts at the Mahim-Matunga railway stations (July 2006) and there was an undercurrent that perhaps it would erupt into another Hindu-Muslim riot. I was here in New Delhi, staying in a locality called Panchsheel; one of the better-moneyed colonies of this city (rented apartment people!) when the news broke on air.

Standing on the terrace, I was thinking of calling a friend in Mumbai when my phone rang… it was another friend – a Sikh gentleman and a biker – who lives in the Nizamuddin side of town (Muslim majority area). He sounded worried as he called…

“J Bo, are you at home? You stay there and don’t get out. Something is happening,” he said. He is a biggish Sikh boy and usually is the first to get into an argument. He sounded scared… and it was infectious. I went inside the house to hear him better and the TV – on mute – showed scenes from the blasted stations. The kickers and breaking news flashing were hinting at building tension (TRP or truth?) and the possibility that Hindus and Muslims might start killing each other gain… Before I could ask him exactly WHY he was asking me to stay indoors, a loud vrooming noise could be heard from the road.

Watching from the terrace, a strange scene was unfolding – rather repeating itself – on the main road (visible from terrace). Muslim young men in sherwanis and the traditional scull caps were going to and fro, 3-4 of them on different motorbikes and scooters. There were about 20-30 bikes and the boys on them were shouting slogans and going up and down the road.

I narrated what was happening to my friend – still on the phone – when he said that the same thing was happening in Nizamuddin as well. “I have never seen them this excited. Something is about to happen. You stay indoors. Don’t get out.” By the time he got off the phone, the motorists had taken eight more rounds on the road. I started calling my friends too… asking them to stay indoors. It was very eerie… I kept expecting a blast to ring out any moment, or someone to throw a bottle on the terrace from where I was watching, or someone else to start dragging people from inside their homes and hacking them… No, I wasn’t being imaginative; all this HAS happened in Mumbai. Gujarat. Till the phone rang again…

“Listen, the Muslim boys you see on the scooters are not rioters. Today is xxx*, they are celebrating xxxx. They are celebrating a festival J Bo. They are celebrating and we are getting scared.” We both kept quiet for a bit, don't know how long, and then we hung up without the byes and take-cares. We are both educated. (xxx* = forgetting which one, will tell...and that too; most kids in Indian schools know all Hindu holidays... let me hear them rattle off all the Eids and for that matter when we have Onam and Pongal... Honestly, I am NOW making it a point to learn. I don't know all of them. And I think, I AM ashamed, and sorry that I have not bothered so far...)

THAT day; I was ashamed. Growing up, we celebrated Durga puja with Ma-Papa; but that was not a choice. You did what you were asked to. So one can say that I am Hindu by birth and not necessarily by choice. I would perhaps not choose any religion at all. However; I had always thought that I was pretty open-minded when it came to accepting other religions and religious views.

The brightest girl in our class in college was a Muslim. My caretaker is a Muslim. One of my father’s best friend’s is a Muslim. One of my close-friend’s girlfriend is a Muslim. And yet that day, I got queasy. Because there were many Muslim boys. It was a mob on two-wheels.

I know that at the end of the day, any mob does NOT see religion. They do not see reason. They do not see sense. A mob does not recognize neighbours. A mob does not hear logic. And yet, while I was scared of the mob… BUT was it JUST the mob, or was it the sight of many scull caps? And WHERE did that thought come from? I have NEVER been hurt by a single person of that faith, EVER. So...why did I think like that... or get scared? Is someone feeding me those thoughts... the repeat a 'stereotype' many times and it becomes a truth angle?

If I were a Muslim… What would it feel to live in a nation – in fact now the world – where your religion is looked at suspiciously? Where you are considered a minority? What does it feel when friends might look at you suspiciously because the way you pray is different from theirs?

What I understood about myself; and perhaps a bit of the Indian psyche that day: We are a nation of mistrust. We, as a people, are closed to anything that could be different from us. We don’t trust our government (it's funny that we choose the morons), our police (oh well, relatives and the police are both things we have to live with), we don’t trust our doctors and our lawyers (both lie to take our money), our gurus and priests are free-loaders and any faction of us that becomes the majority, will have a condescending tolerance of the minority factions (I mean c'mon, even in clubs we have THREE different levels for people to party on - And it's not to sell better service, it's JUST to sell a stupid exclusivity, to make some feel superior and the others, aspirational).

We are simply SCARED of anything that is different. Of agreeing that perhaps there are other ways of life and living and those could be better too (each to his/her own). And of course, being amazingly lazy, the thought of trying to understand something different does not enter our heads. So we get scared and we start stereotyping and making fun of it or defiling it or whatever. School-kid tactics actually; but like most damaging are the insults in childhood, so are these tactics. Till THAT fear stays in you and me, the likes of Bal Thackeray, LK Advani, Narendra Modi, RSS and RJD WILL be able to play up sentiments and blow-up issues beyond proportions. But what do we do to curb that fear? HOW do we trust each other? I don’t know… do YOU?

Hindu-Muslim, bhai bhai
Zara si aafat, jhat bane kasayi?

(corny!)

Disclaimer: The views expressed in posts written by me, are expressedly mine. No other contributor or reader of this blog is responsible or should be held responsible for what I write in my posts. Or who I name.

PS: I realise this is not a game. I realise I am naming factions and parties here. Let no one think that what is said here does not matter. YOU are spending time here, it matters. I am a nobody. But a 100 bodies have ALREADY been reading this blog. If it makes a difference to two, we are happy. Hello Citizens, we touched a 100-readers mark on Aug 30; and it's just been five days since we started. That is GOOD news. Let's keep this rolling.

Those who wish to contribute stories, anecdotes, recipes, pictures, music, thought for the day, a drawing… Please feel free to email me: foxytanya@gmail.com. No cut and paste please, we are looking for original content. If you don’t want to contribute, just spread the word! Talking, for us, is never a bad thing. Hum baat zyada karte hain, achcha karte hain. ;)

Reality check

2007-08-29T22:51:00.000-07:00

Okay. First mistake pointed out.
This is a blog, this is not a race.
This is also not a news site.
No more cutting-pasting.
Only original content.
Even if it means waiting.
Patiently.

Two Good Indians: Abhhyanand & Anand Kumar, Patna

2007-08-29T18:58:00.000-07:00

PS: My right forearm is hurt; too much typing, it's swollen...am trying to type out Lesson 5....IF anyone wants to contribute...PLEASE mail me your work ASAP...even if it's a picture and caption. Would be really grateful if we can have the next three lessons already in. Please help, we cannot have a break in the posts here...foxytanya@gmail.com

The Ashok Rajpath Street in Patna is where one can find literally hundreds of coaching centers.

It is in fact, a haunt for many young people in Bihar hoping to crack various entrance exams and secure a bright future for themselves. However, there is another coaching institute in Patna that is a league apart from all these.

The students attending it are mostly poor, are housed, fed and coached for free. And it boasts a success rate of almost 95 per cent in the IIT JEE. It is called the Super 30 and it is run by an IPS officer Abhayanand and a mathematics teacher, Anand Kumar.

“We wanted to help the children who were intelligent but who did not have enough money to pay the IIT coaching fees as they are quite expensive,” says Anand Kumar.

The two of them consulted teachers, principals and schools before shortlisting their first batch of 30 deserving candidates. Most of the students who enrolled were the children of marginal farmers and from panchayat schools.

They were brought to Patna, provided food, lodging and coaching under one roof and free of cost. And the results speak for themselves- when the entrance results for 2003 were announced, 18 of the 30 had made it. And this year, 28 students made it to IITs.

But as a testament to the teaching methodology at Super 30, the students compete not on the basis of caste or quota, but sheer competence. And every year, battling funds crunch and poaching by rival coaching institutes, Abhay Anand and Anand Kumar make sure that at least 30 deserving students like get a shot at making their dreams a reality.

Original story

One good Indian is all it takes,

To create an India we wish to make.

Chak De India: After 13 tries, football team bags Nehru Cup

2007-08-29T18:19:00.000-07:00

CutnPaste
In one of the greatest nights for Indian football in a long time, a solitary goal from NP Pradeep against Syria clinched India's first title victory in the ONGC Nehru Cup in Delhi on Wednesday night. Bob Houghton's men accomplished the remarkable feat through a 43rd minute strike against tournament favourites Syria, which should prove to be a new beginning for Indian football. Indian captain Bhaichung Bhutia hoped the victory would herald a new beginning for Indian football.
Read full story

CutnPaste: Blame it on the media

2007-08-29T03:17:00.000-07:00

Addressed to the Readers:

Hello, can one talk to you,
Could you spare your minutes few?

This is about the Media,
And sincerely one had no idea...
That you could hate it so much,
And refuse even to touch;
Or consider the simple concept,
That even the media could take some wrong steps.

(While you are such a human strong,
You have never done a single wrong?)

Come let's blame it on the Media,
It's always a bloody good idea...

To say Hey Cameraman!
You should also have been Superman;
To stop that blast and prevent that flood,
And fight the villains, and curb the blood.

(While you vote for the villains,
To launder your clandestine millions?)

Come let's blame it on the Media,
It's always a bloody good idea...

To ask hey how come you Reporter,
You don't have that noose a little tighter?
Around a corrupt politicians' head,
Who steal our very daily bread.

(While you walk with pride,
And give them a hefty bribe?)

Come let's blame it on the Media,
It's always a bloody good idea...

To say they did nothing but write,
Too many words, some banal, some trite;
And yet those words don't fill with dread,
For on our land the killers still tread.

(While you will never do your bit,
For it's far easier to throw a fit??)

Come let's blame it on the Media,
It's always a bloody good idea...

Secure in your homes to sit and complain,
Call the media names; give them some pain.
But let me tell you, You are also the SAME;
You do NOTHING else but play the blame game.

But then let's blame it on the Media now,
After all the Public is always holier than thou.
___________________________________________________

This was in response to some reactions to the earlier Maaro s**le ko post -- written as a response to this story -- where some of you wrote in saying "What did the media do when that man was being beaten by the Bhagalpur-mob?"

WHAT DID THE MEDIA DO?

They did their jobs. They brought you the video so that you could SEE and be able to judge for yourself; as any sensible, thinking, sensitive Indian WOULD do.

And please, DO remember, the man shooting that video was/ is a CAMERAMAN. He is NOT Superman. What would YOU do when you see a mob of 50-100 thrashing a man? Jump and lie on top of the man to protect him?

What did YOU do when that girl was being disrobed by a mob in Mumbai? HOW many of you came ahead with a shirt or dupatta to COVER her?

Get REAL. The public seems to FORGET that a media person present at a bomb blast sight, accident site, a site where dead bodies of children are being found is AS MUCH HUMAN as you sitting on the OTHER side of the monitor or TV screen with your feet up on the table before you, sitting in your air-conditioned environments...

Why blame us for talking to corrupt politicians and taking their bytes? YOU voted for them and gave them that vantage point in the first place. One could go on with this forever...

It IS funny to see media people clamoring behind a politician with their microphones and their cameras and their falling dupattas and their dishevelled hair. It must be a FUN job to see people crying around you, mothers holding their dead babies and a father crying over the remains of his raped daughter and wife and NOT be able to do anything MORE than bring a news report TO an AUDIENCE that will eat popcorn while watching that video and then turn and say, "But what did the media do?"

IF you can make better journalists... COME. Email your stories, what you report, make it UNBIASED. One will put up your stories HERE on this blog.

MAKE SURE, though that you DON'T make a single mistake, DON'T show any human frailty or personal bias when doing that story, get the BEST bytes and something different from the 52 other TV channels present there and STILL come back home to your wife/husband and kids and smile and talk as if nothing happened.

Original appears here: Blame it on the media

Urgently Needed: Happy India News

2007-08-29T01:41:00.002-07:00

Hello,
Very few of us are reading this... for whatever reasons. Channels and news websites with India news have mostly negative news flashing... It feels as if the country is about to explode. But is it?
Is there good news happening around you? Positive things? Happy things? Please write in...
Aiii... more people needed to contribute, more and more and more. More Indians.

(PS: Goddammits, every other country goes around lighting candles for every other reason and we can't... yadayadayada. They are also better paid and work less hours than us? I have never been outside the country, but that's what reader comments on the Official Site say. What's the real deal? Ok, ranting over)

Shoot At Sight Project

2007-08-29T01:41:00.001-07:00

Shoot the Men: And I will take your picture and your vehicle number and put it up here. Then, I will take those to the police and book you under harassment. The proof is HERE. Let me see, HOW it is ignored and by WHO.

Please DO see how our Romeo has taken his helmet OFF to have a better look at me inside an auto WHILE speeding on a flyover. I have promised this boy, that I will be coming to meet him and his folks, soon. I will. Look at me for all I care, i am good looking. But DO NOT try and intimidate me. You got balls that hurt and I got balls of steel. NO ONE will scare me. Now, come, at your own risk.

CALLING GIRLS: Use your camera phones for more than clicking pics for your facebook updates. Take their face, take their number plate, write a short note on the incident and MAIL me = jhoomur@gmail.com.

AND watch as we take this initiative OFF the blog, IN the paper and ON the street. BUT, I NEED your help....CLICK women, CLICK. Let's give these guys a taste of their own medicine. Come, Romeos, come letch at me, am ready for you. If camera-phones can be used for dirty MMSes, we can use them here as well.

Lesson 4: Yours, Litter-ally, Indian!

2007-08-28T19:44:00.000-07:00

It happens only in India

I will not throw my cigarette butts and toffee wrappers on the road. If need be, I shall wrap those in a paper to throw in a bin later. Or use the ashtray in my car. That’s my contribution today. Yours?

Sree, writes/contributes from Canada and says, "30 States, 1618 languages, 6400 castes, 6 religions. My India. And here is my application in white paper for the J.Bo, J Bites Indian Shitizenship.

We Are The Litter Soldiers.

An ad campaign on Indian Television few years ago: A taxi driver at a traffic signal, spitting on the road. A woman in a car drives close to the taxi, lowers her window glasses, looks at the taxi driver and says "Cheee" making a grimace. The taxi driver has an embarrassed look. A slogan shows up on screen: “Say Cheeee, Keep Mumbai Clean"

Likewise, it is my dream too to have a litter free India.

We, as a nation, have made several sincere attempts to keep our streets clean. All of it died out in time. We Indians have short memories; let it be an explosion or an eruption, OR a litter free campaign.

When America still cries for a 9/11, we have moved on with every disaster that has hit our land. We are eager to get back to what we call a normal life. If only we just pause and think for a while, the getting back to life can be made better than the same old same old. If only we develop the mentality that having better things in life is not being less humble. If only… We just stop littering on the streets.

An Indian, who spits and pees in one super-shot on our streets, is able to control and quit while in a foreign land where it is punishable. Makes me wonder what we can do to inject some sense of patriotism in our everyday life other than just painting faces in tricolours or spending Rs 5 on a microscopic flag on an August 15^th.

Do we need to give out flowers to everyone who peepee in public and hope that such embarassment/ Gandhigiri, will make them quit? He would probably find a flower free space to unzip his pants.

Nothing works in India, and let me say in the same breath that we can make it work in India. And thus my wish to RIP in a litter-free, clean India can be made possible. I often visualize the nightmare of having an unsatisfied death knowing that I shall be taken through a litter-some street for my funeral.

Canada has a Litter King who did the unthinkable by legally changing his name to 'Litter King’, so that no one will forget about his mission to keep the streets of his country litter free. He walks with an ice cream bucket as his crown and cleans trash from the streets. And he hopes one day his campaign catches on. His message to his people,"Protect Your Land. Okay?”

One man just might make a difference in a country like Canada, where almost all the streets are litter free. The Litter King has the task to finish off the already satisfactory job or remind his countrymen about the importance of having a clean land. But in India, we need several minds to unite and start from scratch.

We should protect our land, very much like the brave soldiers who fought in Kargil.We are the Litter Soldiers. But how? Ad campaigns alone seldom work. We have seen that.

Gandhigiri seems to work when aimed at aforeign land and its people, rather than our own.

When the Gujarat disaster happened few years ago in 2001, there was an online campaign started by a website to light virtual lamps for the departed souls. Several thousands were lit by Indians all over the globe. People seem to think better in front of a computer. And right here we have the bloggers’ strength to pretty much scribble down our dreams about a better India. And let me dream, that someday we can make some of it, if not all, a reality.

__________________

Thanks Sree!

PS: It takes one, we now have three writing here: two out of those will not litter. Not bad at all. Happy at this small, small start… and hoping for more. We need more. Come one, come all…and even if you want to laugh at us, just pass on the message, okay? :)

Please DO mail your contributions - foxytanya@gmail.com: It could be anything, something you write, a funny picture you have taken, share a recipe by the aunty in your locality....anything that is India.

One good Indian: Armene Modi

2007-08-28T02:53:00.000-07:00

Pune: Seventeen-year-old Anita's little sister helps her wash her bike everyday in the hopes of getting a quick joyride. But for Anita, the cycle is more than just a form of transport. It's an engine of change.

"Initially, I was studying in a Marathi medium school in Sone Sanghvi, but since last three years I have been coming to this place. I used to walk and got late every day. Even my teacher used to get angry. But ever since I have got my cycle, I am able to reach on time,” says Anita.

Traveling to a school seven kms away was an uphill task for many teenage girls in the Shirur taluka of Maharashtra. Until bicycles came their way through an NGO called "Ashta No Kai" which means 'a better future'.

It's founder Armene Modi wanted to raise the literacy level among women in Shirur. So she started a bicycle bank, to help young girls take the road less traveled.

"We started to give to girls at a very nominal cost of Rs 300 deposit. When the girl finished high school we asked her to return the bicycle and recycled it to another girl,” says Armene Modi.

According to Armene, the bank has brought about a visible change in the girls attitudes.

"We have visibly seen a decrease in the drop out rate and we have visible seen the marriage age of girls increasing,” says Armene.

Initially, Armene faced a lot of resistance from the villagers. Now there are more takers than donors for these prized vehicles. Armene says even though the literacy rate of girls has risen in Shirur her work is far from done. She wants every girl in Shirur to ride her way to success.

Original story: Pune woman helps girls take the road less traveled

PS: this is not promoting any site, will be picking up stories about One good Indian from wherever I can... all those who read about a single person trying something, mail me links at foxytanya@gmail.com

Lesson 3: Auto-drivers, resident evil?

2007-08-27T19:50:00.000-07:00

It happens only in India

I will not sit in any auto that does not go by the meter. I will insist on going by the regulated fare system, even if it means waiting for five minutes for another auto. That’s my bit today. Yours?

(mail contributions to: foxytanya@gmail.com)

General Rule of Rain in Delhi: When it rains, autorickshaw drivers will hike fare prices and will generally haggle/harass more than on other days. Also, I will not haggle and if pissed off sufficiently, will either report the number to the police or note it down and report it to this blog. ;)

I don’t have a car and since whenever I get into a DTC bus, I get into a fight – just a general dislike for being felt up – I have to take autos, like many others in this city.

Now the New Delhi government has introduced the NEW meters in Delhi that start at Rs 10 for the first kilometer and ticks at Rs .45 every 1km. With the introduction of this new fare system, NO auto-driver and I mean NO autodriver has any business to EVEN suggest going without turning down the meter. YOU are supposed to call and inform about the ones who do.

(Calculating auto fare IF it’s the old meter and starts from Rs 8 = Note kilometers on meter and subtract one from it + left-over kilometers multiply by 4.5 = whatever the result, add a Rs 10 to it and pay. Eg. If distance is 10, your fare = 9 x 4.5 + 10 = 50. (erm, use your calculators, i made a mistake calculating even this bit! had written 55 earlier, heh heh)

Since the introduction of new meters (start at Rs 10), auto-drivers have no business charging anything other than what that meter says, no matter how long or short the distance. They even try, “It’s Sunday” madame to get more money out of you.

NOW, earlier the Delhi Traffic Police HAD a complaint number printed on most autos: It was mandatory to write down the complaint number at the back of the auto-drivers' seat and also behind or on the sides of the auto. The mandate being that the complaint number had to be conspicuously displayed.

Today, that number does NOT work. IF you DO call the Delhi Police on 100, the calls are not answered. The Police Control Room (PCR, 100) was called at 1.24pm yesterday (August 27); but there was NO RESPONSE. Delhi Police insists that they ALWAYS pick up calls or return calls. There is a caller-id facility that they have. So what’s happening Delhi Police… rakhi holidays perhaps?

Interestingly, once you DO call the PCR van and it arrives, the policemen will do their best to NOT register a complaint. PLEASE REMEMBER: If you EVER make a complaint to the police, no matter how mundane, have it written in their log books – every PCR van is SUPPOSED to carry a log book – and ASK them for a complaint number. Unless you are Sonia Gandhi or Shilpa Shetty, they will not remember your complaint; and since most policemen anyway suffer from voluntary amnesia; PLEASE take that complaint number. It works as your PAN number when dealing with the police.

Yes, auto-drivers are also trying to earn their livelihood; but since I TOO work hard for my money, I really don’t like parting with it more than I have to. Perhaps you can pay a Rs 100 for a distance where you should perhaps pay Rs 70… please DO NOT pay that extra Rs 30 out of sympathy or whatever. Not everyone can pay that extra money and it’s like letting a carnivore taste human blood…

Furthermore, since there is no Traffic Police number to call and Delhi Police DOES NOT respond to calls; KINDLY note down rogue auto-drivers’ numbers and mail me; or post as a comment on this blog. Once there are 50-odd numbers, I WILL approach the Police and ask for answers. Of course meanwhile, I shall be calling them if and when need arises. And once they do NOT respond to my call, say five times, I will take my call records and approach them. Oh yes.

If you can take pictures of autodrivers when they refuse to take you anywhere – they usually sit with their legs up looking nonchalant while refusing, makes for a fun pic – please use the camera on your mobile phones, take the pic of the driver and the auto with the number visible and mail me (foxytanya@gmail.com). Let us see HOW long does this official loot continue.

I don’t know the public transport complaint rules – read cab/ auto – rules in other cities. Those who know, would appreciate if you fill me in. Also, if people reading from other cities can give complaint numbers to reach the authorities; would be grateful.

Meanwhile, here are the autowallahs who refused to budge because it was a Sunday and wouldn’t go by meter. Two of them also said: “Dekhte hain tum kya karti ho.” (Let’s see what you do). Well, very soon.

DL 1R F 3256: this man is also a marijuana smoker and is so stoned and argumentative, you should not sit in his auto at all!
DL 1H R 1729

Dial-an-auto-service: However, not ALL auto drivers are the Devil’s minions. A whole lot of them are hard-working people working to meet ends meet… Even before they get money home, they have to pay something like Rs 250 as a daily rental for using an auto. An autorickshaw costs Rs 1-3 lakhs (additional 5000 to install a new meter); and not every autodriver can afford to take a loan for the same. So they drive rented autos according to pre-decided time slots. Some auto-drivers have started keeping cell phones and you can call them like a taxi-service. Am collecting numbers and will start publishing them here soon so that those in given localities may avail the service.

Meanwhile, some taxi numbers – tried and tested – good service, non-interfering and always provide a taxi.
Chhote Yadav, Vasant Kunj: 9868748342
Taxu Ranvir, Gurgaon/VK: 98116-18863
Delhi Traffic Police landline: 011-2337888
More to come…

PS: The Blank Noise Project and I love street dogs do NOT link to this site. However, both are trying to work in different fields that need help in India. Got pictures of street dogs that have been adopted? Please mail them to me...will pass them on to blog moderator on doggie-blog.

Lesson 2: The Solo Soldier

2007-08-27T01:05:00.000-07:00

It happens only in India

I will not jump any red light today or allow those whose cars I ride in to do it either. That's my contribution today. Yours?

Traffic signals in India are like a microcosm in themselves. Much happens at a traffic signal: It’s a market place for everything from flowers to toys to magazines and incense stick, it’s a place where along with alms, lives, love and hope are found and lost. Some people sleep at traffic lights. Some fall in love – well they did in Kaho Naa Pyar Hai! Many earn their livelihoods on traffic lights; and I mean the beggars and vendors AND the money-extorting traffic cops. And also, traffic signals/lights have stories to tell. Stories that are played out daily, each time the light changes. Here, our first contributor, blogger Crimson Feet shares the story of the Solo Soldier.

The Solo Soldier (renamed from original blog)

The best part about moving from Bombay to Noida has been the drastic changes in my travel routine...
Local train ---> Royal Enfield Thunderbird
1hr 17 min one way ---> 17 min door-to-door
Expensive cab rides ----> Peaceful bike sojourns
Cramped roads with pollution ----> Wide roads with pollution ;)
Saturday night frenzy ---> Weekend travel to Dehradun/Rishikesh/Chandigarh/Lucknow etc

I like to have my Sony thump crooning my favrourite number right into my brain during these peaceful bike rides to and fro bet home and office. A few days ago I saw an old man shouting through a hand-held loudspeaker on a traffic signal on my way back from office.

His shirt read “Follow traffic rules”: Yatayat ke niyamon ka palan karein.

He was old but looked ferociously serious about what he was saying. I could only “see” him till I switched the thump off and tried to “hear” him. Too much noise, I couldn’t pick a word. The seconds remaining on the signal were getting closer to zero, and throttles were being pulled... He looked back, and with a thumping conclusion to his speech, moved aside to let the traffic pass...

Between Noida’s Sector 29 and 58, there are five-six traffic signals, and rule violation is so rampant, that when I decide to stop at a red light; I fear I will cause an accident because EVERY other commuter is jumping the red light and I am the ONLY one standing!

Still, PROUDLY yet, I do STOP when it’s a red light. Of course the worst part is when MY signal is green and I find commuters ready to bang into me irresepctive of their situation in life and on the road!

The old man seemed hesitantly proud of himself too. He looked "ignored" and YET had the conviction to keep doing what HE felt was a good thing to do... May be he had had a tragedy in his family, maybe he was mad. As I crossed him, I wanted to catch his eye and nod approvingly. He never looked At anyone, just stared blankly into nothing; and I felt him to be more alive than most of us commuters...

I think he should know that his effort is NOT going waste.

PS: Crimson Feet, thankyou for this.... Please tell him next time… And if anyone else living in Noida sees this old man, Stop, and thank. And DON’T jump that light.

Those interested in contributing: Please mail links or pieces you have written, or
pictures you have taken to : foxytanya@gmail.com

Lesson 1: Aao, tamasha dekhen

2007-08-25T23:08:00.000-07:00

(come let's watch the show/fun)
It happens only in India

“Kuch karna zaroori hai kya? Why cannot you be content to see what is happening around you? And anyway, what have you done so far that you think you can make a difference?” said one. “One person’s will or wanting it does not really matter when we are 6 billion of us clubbed together sharing the same resources,” said another. And that’s what it boils down to: Those who care, those who don’t and those who pretend they don’t give a damn. We’ve just reached the 60-years-of-Indepedence landmark; and yet some things really make me wonder if that figure means anything at all. Both good and bad things. We cannot answer if one person can make a difference. You see, because usually, for one person to make ANY difference, he/she needs MORE PEOPLE behind them. This is one start, hoping more would join.

In the time of superheroes, this country needs a Hero.

We are not it. We are the anti-heroes. Show allegiance, join in, we need more people to write here. Whenever you want to, or talk and share stories. A course in writing or workshop is not needed, just a will and a want are. Don't send friend requests. We don't care for friends. But we care for ideas. It is our country, and yours; and we are not bothered about those who don't care. Yet.

THOSE WHO WANT TO MAIL ME STORIES, INSIGHTS, VIEWS OR PICTURES ON INDIA FOR THIS BLOG, MAIL AT: foxytanya@gmail.com

I will not let my auto-driver get on to the pavement today, or zigzag through traffic. That would be my contribution today. Yours?

The real reason behind road accidents in India are not malfunctioning traffic lights (when it rains and when it doesn’t), lack of road sense or general apathy to rules. It is Morons.

Like the morons who ride bikes and think that unless they stand two inches in front of the stop line, their peepees (PP, pyari penis) will shrink. To reach the beginning-of-the-line, they will zigzag through an already-constricted traffic, causing further confusion and much honking. THEN, in their excitement of having reached ahead, they will promptly twist the front tyre, lose control and fall, JUST as the light turns green. So that others either run him over or brake suddenly. Result: An accident.

Or, those morons, who immediately brake, right in the middle of oncoming traffic: To WATCH an altercation or fight happening on the side of the road. And they’re usually looking at the other side of the road. Or at girls standing at bus stops, or inside autorickshaws or are walking on the pavement. All this while, their bike’s noses will be right in your car’s backside, so that if you break, either the moron goes flying on to your bumper or lands on the road. Result: An accident.

And of course, those morons who think pavements are to pave their path for reaching ahead of others. If in India, NEVER walk on pavements: You are most likely to get killed there. (Thinks of certain film stars and big industrialist son’s practicing their obstacle driving skills on pavements…)

Or the coupled morons with her happily massaging his back and him craning his neck backwards to listen to her or blissful in the massage. To prolong their mutual pleasure, the coupled morons usually ride at 20 kph in the middle of heavy traffic, the other fast movers circling them, creating a sort of mid-traffic love island, honking like crazy, sending dirty looks… while our coupled morons ride on unaffected… Till someone either bumps into them or vice-versa. Result: An accident.

The bigger the crowd around an accident sight, the more likely it is to watch either a death scene or a fist-fight. It is REALLY funny, how Indians stop on their way – presumably to work or other important destinations – to watch an Accident Scenario. We have all the time in the world. No wonder productivity sucks.

But we hardly help. Because we like a good show, but don’t want to be part of it ourselves. Because we wonder what’s in it for us. Or how it would inconvenience us. Or perhaps, MOST of the time, we just don’t care. Tamasha hai, let’s watch. Yes, there are those who help etc; just don’t go expecting it. you don’t get miracles and change of character on a daily basis.