OPEN Magazine 21 April 2014

BENARES DESPATCH BY AATISH TASEER

RS 40 2 1 a p r i l 2 0 14

inside Love and Longing on WeChat l i f e

a n d

Who’s Amit Shah?

The second most powerful man in BJP is more than what you have heard of him

t i m e s .

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Open Mail | editor@openmedianetwork.in Editor S Prasannarajan managing Editor PR Ramesh Deputy Editors Aresh Shirali, Ullekh NP art director Madhu Bhaskar Senior Editors Kishore Seram,

Haima Deshpande (Mumbai) Mumbai bureau chief Madhavankutty Pillai assistant editors

Anil Budur Lulla (Bangalore), Shahina KK, Aastha Atray Banan, Mihir Srivastava, Chinki Sinha, Sohini Chattopadhyay Special Correspondents Aanchal Bansal, Lhendup Gyatso Bhutia (Mumbai), Gunjeet Sra Assistant Art Directors Tarun Sehgal, Anirban Ghosh SENIOR DESIGNER Anup Banerjee photo editor Ruhani Kaur assistant Photo editor Ritesh Uttamchandani (Mumbai) Staff Photographers Ashish Sharma, Raul Irani Editorial Researcher Shailendra Tyagi asst Editor (web) Arindam Mukherjee staff writer Devika Bakshi Associate publisher Deepa Gopinath Associate general managers (advertisement) Rajeev Marwaha (North

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Volume 6 Issue 15 For the week 15—21 April 2014 Total No. of pages 64 + Covers

cover photo Raul Irani

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MY SHARIFF

Vladimir Putin has emerged as quite a different strong Russian leader, after Mikhail Gorbachev and Boris Yeltsin, and he is undoubtedly following in the footsteps of Stalin (‘Return of the Great Terror’, 17 March 2014). Russia has faced humiliation in the past with the disintegration of the erstwhile USSR, collapse of its Cold War strength and meteoric rise of the US. This Western power had gone too far, interfering in the internal affairs of Vietnam and weak-but-oil-rich countries like Iraq, Iran, Libya, Egypt and Syria, and had devastated their economies and infrastructure and compelled these There should be countries to toe its line and whims, without another great power daring to ask its pamalongside the US to pered child Israel to keep America under demolish its nuclear check and maintain the ammunition and stop its balance of power on misadventures in the this planet Middle East. Putin is doing the same thing in Ukraine what the US had been doing in other countries. Putin is trying to retrieve the lost legacy of the Soviet Union, and has emerged as a course-corrector and challenger to US power by trying to checkmate it. There should be another great power alongside the US to keep it under check and maintain the balance of power on this planet, or else it will keep poking its nose in the affairs of other nations to protect its own interests.  letter of the week Just Another Modiphobe

the writer has so much hatred for Narendra Modi, he cannot see how he distorts facts to make his point (‘Modi in the Time of Obama’, 24 March 2014). The basic premise is correct, that having chided Modi for so long, any US president, particularly Obama, who is not comfortable with the BJP leader as a politician, will have a hard time warming up to Modi. And Hillary, who is comfortable, will appear warm to Modi. But to make this point, the writer ventures into Obama’s father being a Muslim. It is totally inappropriate. The writer also seems to be the only one who knows the

definition of Hindutva, claiming that Modi would treat Muslims as second-class citizens. Not at all. Modi’s belief is ‘no special benefits on the basis of religion’, and he has followed that in Gujarat over the last 12 years.  Arun

nations come closer or drift apart not so much due to clashes of personality, but clashes of interest. No country can ignore India or the US. America’s Barack Obama and India’s Narendra Modi are mere birds of passage. If it serves India’s national interest, Modi may be the first to show up at the White

House, forgetting his personal humiliation by the US.  Jitendra De sai

Manmohan’s Score

this refers to ‘Hollow Man’ (7 April 2014). You missed several important points. The Congress party’s old guard, which includes Pranab Mukherjee, simply did not listen to Manmohan Singh.

Sonia Gandhi did not want a man with a voice. Well, this is the outcome. The BJP wanted to shave its collective head if a ‘foreigner’ were to become Prime Minister but got a foreign born ‘Super PM’ without any accountability and all the power. Manmohan Singh turned out to be just as much a politician as anyone else; why should he waste his breath on people who did not elect him despite his impeccable credentials at the time? For all the humiliation heaped on him, he has exacted his revenge by making it hard for Rahul Gandhi to attain power, and has also ensured that the latter will have to do some tough work before he can even think of becoming PM.  Imli

No Need for Spin

this article completely misses what ‘Forward Policy’ was (‘A Gandhian War’, 7 April 2014).

It was not a strategic move, not an all-encompassing Indian policy towards China, not a foreign policy doctrine like the Gujaral Doctrine or Look East policy. It was simply a tactical military move (which failed), as simple as that. Don’t put an ideological spin on it.  Rita

21 april 2014

Roti, Kapda aur Eggs demand

This election season, Tamil Nadu’s political parties have become bulk customers of eggs

the poll calendar, demand for Namakkal’s eggs far outstrips its supply. And if you consider that the town in central Tamil Nadu produces an astounding 30 million eggs every day, that is some demand indeed.

Namakkal is the second largest egg producer in the country.

Politics and eggs came together when the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam used it effectively in the 2009 Lok Sabha polls. The party found that egg biryani was a cheaper option than the mutton and

this time of

21 april 2014

chicken versions. Ever since, the egg biryani has become the staple election dish to woo voters, says a DMK leader who does not want to go on record.

“In 2009, the distribution of egg biryani became so popular that the Chief Electoral Officer asked parties not to serve it in poll-related feasts and meetings as he equated handing out free packed egg biryanis with distribution of gifts such as dhotis and saris.

Even now, election officials keep a tab,’’ he says.

In 2009, industry insiders

say the price of an egg was Rs 1.80 and it increased to between Rs 2.25 and Rs 2.50 by the end of the polls. This election, the demand for eggs has shot up and each commands between Rs 3 and Rs 3.20 at the farm gate itself.

Eggs are produced by around 1,000 plus units there. In regular times, a large number are supplied to the state’s mid-day meal scheme in schools. Around 5 million eggs are exported every day, the rest are sold to agents from neigh-

bouring states. National Egg Coordination Committee’s (NECC’s) Namakkal zone head P Selvaraj claims that despite the staggering numbers, producers have suffered huge losses due to expensive feed and increased production. Over-production leads to under-selling and an inability to get a good price. Statistics maintained by NECC reveal that this summer, production in Namakkal has touched 35 million eggs on some days in anticipation of extra demand. n Anil Budur Lulla

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the hindu archives

small world

6

contents

10

16

cover story Who is Amit Shah?

to the Suryanelli convictions

38

bureaucrats

open essay

Technocrat Nandan Nilekani

a hurried man’s guide

24 Fear at the top

8

economy

32 dmk

locomotif

Patriarch in pathos

BJP and the post-Ayodhya god

person of the Week the indian slapper

Tips for the next government

For Those Five Minutes Ah, to be the owner of the hand that delivers the ultimate insult to the powerful lhendup g bhutia

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here have been multiple attempts in the recent past to attack Arvind Kejriwal. He was once sprinkled with ink; on another occasion, a self-confessed Anna Hazare supporter lunged at him; and some days back, a man was able to get close enough to land a slap on his neck. Until finally, it happened. A man, later identified as an autorickshaw driver in Delhi, came up with the bright idea of getting close enough by garlanding the former Chief Minister. When the leader bowed to receive it, the driver delivered a powerful slap across his face, and more importantly, in front of TV cameras.

According to Kejriwal’s coterie, the slap was a ‘paid slap’, by which they meant it was arranged by their electoral opponents. The recipient, however, was more ponderous, seeming to want to understand the reasoning behind these attacks. He wrote in a series of tweets, ‘I am just thinking—why am i being repeatedly attacked? Who [are] the masterminds? What do they want?

What do they achieve?’

To answer Kejriwal’s questions, it is unlikely that the slappers, or attackers, are controlled by some syndicate or kingpin of slap-givers. What a slapper wants is fame for himself and the vilification of his subject. To be the owner of the hand that delivers the ultimate insult to the most powerful of men. The motivation of the action, whatever it may be, is incidental. Here, it was an autorickshaw driver who felt 4 open

enough reason to slap him?

In that regard, a slapper is not very different from the shoe-flinger that appeared to plague Indian politicians a few years ago. But the shoe, delivered from afar, is convenient and lacks the derringdo of a resounding slap. And during elections, where leaders are out campaigning, it isn’t difficult to deliver a slap.

The only other recorded incident of a slap being delivered to an Indian politician is that of a man named Harvinder Singh who slapped NCP chief Sharad Pawar, a few years ago, apparently because he was upset with corruption and price rise. imtiyaz khan/india news network The same individual had in the past also assaulted former Telecom Minister Sukh Ram. What eggs a slapper on further is the empathy he generates. Many erupted in glee as TV channels continued to play the slapping episode. People, it appeared, had their own reasons. For some viewers, Kejriwal is an opponent of individuals they admire. And to some, he is an upstart and the slap serves the purpose of bringing him back to their ordinary worlds.

The best manner to deal with slappers and attackers is to not give them what they ultimately want— fame and recognition. And for that, Kejriwal is equally to blame. Jarnail Singh, the man who is supposed to have started the trend of throwing shoes at public figures when he flung a shoe in 2009 at the then Home Minister P Chidambaram, is currently fighting a Lok Sabha election on an AAP ticket. n cheeky Lali, an auto driver, is led away after the slap

Kejriwal had betrayed autorickshaw drivers, and earlier it was a man pained at Kejriwal’s perceived slight to Hazare. One could see that the slapper was an ordinary individual looking for his five minutes of fame, when Kejriwal, in a smart PR move, visited the attacker in his house the day after the incident. The attacker was quoted as saying, “I’ve committed a big mistake. I should have never done what I did. I consider [Kejriwal] as a god.” How else does a commoner react to having a former CM visit him in his home, despite the fact that just the day before he had

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wechat

books

Love and longing on an app

Reductive India

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c cinema

photography

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S Paul, the father of Indian photojournalism

Paul Cox’s latest film

NOT PEOPLE LIKE US

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The new kiss on the block

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f o r pelting stones at Yuvraj

Singh’s house after India’s loss in the World T20 championship final As he painstakingly struggled to put together a score of 11 runs off 21 deliveries, social media went berserk with jokes and angry comments criticising Yuvraj Singh for India’s poor performance that eventually resulted in India’s losing the final. You can still

discount remarks like ‘Yuvi needs to become the coach of women cricket team and win world T20’, even if they are in poor taste; after all, we tend to be such angry birds on Twitter. Another tweet read: ‘Yuvraj I hope the next time I see you, you are a judge on comedy nights or an AAP candidate. Thanks for a great career.’

But to pelt stones at his home in Chandigarh? That is inexcusable. Is there a sportsman alive who has not had a bad day on the field?

Besides, who can deny the major role Yuvraj played in India’s victory in the T20 tournament of 2007 and the ODI World Cup in 2011?

With the Election Commission mulling over removing his pictures from public spaces, Jnanpith awardee Ananthamurthy changes his mind about leaving the country if Modi comes to power s tay i n g o n

“Modi can neither reflect ancient India nor can he build a model India. I will have no belongingness to India represented

by Modi. I, in fact, will not like to live in India during that period”

“A few months ago in Bangalore... I was overcome by emotion, and I said I’ll not live in a country where Modi is Prime Minister. That was too much... because I can’t go anywhere except India”

—Ananthamurthy at a book release function in Bangalore on 15 September

—Ananthamurthy at a press meet

turn

ple able Peo Unreasotnhe Week of

around

in Delhi on 7 April

For fans to use violence is to insult not just the cricketer, but also the game. n

The Trinamool Brazenness Continues p r e v e n t i n g e l e c t i o n Commission (EC) officials from performing their duties is a slap in the face of democracy, and a capitulation of all values that political parties stand for. No politician worth his or her salt should condone such behaviour by party workers. Which is why it is imperative that Mamata Banerjee reins in workers of the Trinamool Congress (TMC) who, according to reports, attacked EC officials in the Manikchak area of Malda Dakshin constituency in West Bengal.

The attack, reports say, took place 21 april 2014

when the officials were trying to stop a TMC motorcycle rally, which is forbidden under EC rules, and were attempting to take pictures of the rally. A TMC candidate contesting the Malda Dakshin seat, Moazzem Hossain, was conducting his election campaign and road show with around 200-250 two-wheelers.

Deeply worrying is Banerjee’s own statements against the EC, despite having agreed to revoke transfers of officials under pressure from the poll panel. She went to the extent of calling the EC directive an ‘insult’. n open www.openthemagazine.com 5

angle

A Hurried Man’s Guide

On the Contrary

to the Suryanelli Convictions

A division bench of the High Court of Kerala that reopened the Suryanelli rape case last year recently convicted 24 of the 31 accused.

The prime accused, Dharmarajan, was given a life sentence while the others got imprisonment for a period ranging from four to 13 years.

This marks yet another milestone in a long and torturous legal process. The verdict comes 18 years after the case began.

In 1996, a 16-year-old old girl from the remote village of Suryanelli in Kerala ran away with her lover. He trafficked her across different places in Kerala. She was raped by 47 people in forty days before being allowed to return home.

SAJJAD HUSSAIN/AFP

In 2000, the trial court convicted 36 people in the case, but five years later the High Court reThe Kerala High versed all the convictions, Court recently bar one, of Dharmarajan. convicted 24 of The case also created a the 31 accused in political sensation when the Suryanelli the girl alleged that Rajya rape case, 18 Sabha Deputy Chairman years after the PJ Kurien was among those case began she was offered to. The girl’s plea to add him to the list of the accused was dismissed by the High Court without giving her an opportunity to be heard.

It is likely that what brought the Suryanelli case back into prominence was the brutal gangrape of a young woman in Delhi on 16 December 2012 and the shock that it generated. In January 2013, the Supreme Court expressed shock and embarrassment over the mass acquittal by the High Court. It set it aside and directed a fresh hearing, which has led to the current convictions.

The High Court is also taking up a petition filed by the girl to give her an opportunity to present her case against PJ Kurien.

Meanwhile, the girl’s father says he is relieved by the latest judgment; at least now they can get over the shock and humiliation. n

On Censorship and Submission Does Rohinton Mistry really need Aditya Thackeray’s permission to visit Mumbai? M a d h a v a n k u t t y P i l l a i

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hrough most of history, man never really had a choice about what he could read. He was largely illiterate. For the few who weren’t, the church and king decided the appropriateness of his knowledge. Even recent dictators like Mao and Stalin were voracious readers but completely clear on what their subjects deserved to read. In independent India, we are fortunate to have almost unhindered freedom. But we do get stray reminders of how easy it is to be censored, policed and subjugated.

Precisely for that reason, it is important to take the issue seriously.

Last Sunday, the front page of Mumbai Mirror ran the headline: ‘The cub’s poll purr: Rohinton Mistry free to come to Mumbai’. The story described Aditya Thackeray, son of Shiv Sena chief Uddhav Thackeray, having an interaction with Parsis as part of his election campaign, during which the first question to him was about his opposition to Mistry’s book Such a Long Journey. In 2010, following a demand by him, the book was removed from the syllabus of Mumbai University. He had not even read the book, which was published two decades earlier. As per the newspaper report, the question put to Thackeray at the meeting was, “Do you have a rethink, would the book be reinstated on the syllabus, and could the Ontario-based Mistry revisit the city of his birth without fear of being attacked by zealous Sainiks?” Another question was whether Mistry would be ‘targeted’ if he came to Mumbai for a literary festival, to which Thackeray replied, “He is free to come.”

The submission that permeates this exchange is striking. That such a question should be asked indicates how easy it is to succumb to cultural policing, to feel that freedoms we take for granted are dependent on a switch held by a 23-year-old, and all that

needs to be done is appeal to his better side. And it is puzzling because he really does not have any such switch.

Two decades ago, you could understand the fear because the Shiv Sena had successfully used violence as a deliberate strategy. But this is not that age. The Sena now has neither the muscle to run sustained violent campaigns, nor would it be tolerated.

The most seminal moment that showed how ineffective the party’s tactics had become was when its workers attacked the IBN Lokmat office in 2009 and got beaten up by its employees there. And there was no retaliation whatsoever. Or the time when the party demanded an The only way apology from Shah Rukh for Aditya Khan for saying Thackeray Pakistani to become a players should censor is if he play in the IPL, is invited to threatening to stall his movie be one My Name is Khan. Shah Rukh didn’t apologise; the movie released and became a superhit.

The only way for someone like Aditya Thackeray to become a censor is if he is invited to be one. When institutions like Mumbai University bow to a non-existent threat, they are perpetuating submission purely on the basis of memory. Just minimum courage is required to be free of such coercion; in the absence of that, the absurdity of looking up to the mercy of the very men who are out to censor you will continue.

When someone asks Aditya Thackeray to let Rohinton Mistry visit Mumbai, it gives him further power over a man whom he has already wronged. The question a gathering of Parsis should have asked on behalf of Mistry, a Parsi himself, is: Do you now apologise to Mistry? n 21 april 2014

business

Dalal Street’s Suryanamaskar Explained If Indian stockmarkets appear to have welcomed the deal with price bounces for both companies—though the pre-deal uptrend in Ranbaxy’s stock price has evoked suspicions of insider trading—it is perhaps because investors are confident that Sun’s new leadership will address the US regulator’s quality concerns.

Sun has a set of intangible advantages, analysts say, that the Japanese owner lacked—hinting that a management familiar with Indian work processes would be better able to identify and fix production problems that may have arisen from peculiarly local circumstances.

As for the deal’s mechanics, Sekhar lauds the fact that it isn’t a cash purchase but a classic stock-swap purchase, with Sun using the strength of own equity as a corporate currency.

This way, Sun is not saddled with excessive debt—unlike other share price advantage Dilip Shanghvi of Sun Pharma corporates that took big loans to make has used his company’s strengthening stock as a currency large purchases—and has the luxury of using its own cash reserves to fund the merged entity’s future strategy. “It has its retention by Sun to serve it well in certain markets. While many of Ranbaxy’s used its key multiple—[which reflects] the market’s perception of Sun’s earning over-the-counter products sell on the capabilities—as a currency to pay Daiichi strength of the space they occupy as and make it a [9-per cent stake] partner in sub-brands (such as Revital) in the the fortunes of the combined entity.” By consumer’s mind, most other drugs and doing so, Sun has also safeguarded its generics tend to sell on the corporate balance sheet from the risks of a failed reputation among doctors, who Ranbaxy merger. n SHAILENDRA TYAGI has assiduously wooed in many markets.

Kuni Takahashi/Bloomberg/Getty Images

M& A gurgaon-based Ranbaxy’s tagline ‘Trusted Medicines. Healthier Lives’ has been met with ironic smiles all the way from America to Japan ever since the US drug regulator spotted quality deficiencies in some of its plants making generic medicines for export to the US, barring some of its products and making its Japanese owner Daiichi cry foul over having been sold a lemon in 2008 by the firm’s founding family of Singhs. It should surprise no one that Ranbaxy has lost about half its value as a business since; Sun Pharma has bought a controlling stake in it from Daiichi at what’s clearly a distress-sale price.

Sun’s bet is that it can fix the factory glitches, get US regulatory clearances, and turn the Sun-Ranbaxy combine into a low-cost generics export powerhouse.

“With Ranbaxy’s low credibility, the deal speaks volumes of the risk-taking ability of Sun Pharma’s management,” says Phani Sekhar, a fund manager with Angel Broking who is convinced that Sun’s founder and boss Dilip Shanghvi has a strategy in mind. Ranbaxy was among India’s first firms to go after global markets, remains cost competitive both overseas and in India, and has several US-market clearances—ANDAs—lined up for drugs about to go off patent.

While there is some anxiety flying around about the fate of Ranbaxy as a brand, analysts see enough value left in it—despite its recent image battering—for

generics powerhouse The Sun-Ranbaxy combine would be the world’s fifth biggest generics company by sales value

$9.2 $ 8 .2

2013 Worldwide Generic Sales ($ in billion)

$ 6.3 $ 5.9

Infographic by tarun sehgal

$4.3 $2.5 $ 2 .4 $ 2 .2 $ 2 .1 $ 1 .8

Teva

21 April 2014

Sandoz Actavis

Sun+ Mylan Ranbaxy

Sun

Hospira Sanofi

“We are extremely concerned over the trend of Indian startups moving their legal entities overseas whereas their main delivery operations are still based in India. Our immediate focus for this year is to build a series of recommendations to ease the rules for registration, taxation and operation of small companies in India” R Chandrashekhar, President of Nasscom, worried about the trend of Indian tech startups moving base overseas to avoid regulatory and taxation hassles in India

Aspen Ranbaxy

Source: Sun Pharma compiled by Shailendra Tyagi

lo co m ot i f

BJP AND THE POST-AYODHYA GOD S PRASANNARAJAN

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verything has changed, and in a country where that French expression of minimum expectation—plus cá change, plus c’est la meme chose—remains a political reality, the transformation is all the more stark. Till yesterday, till Narendra Modi made himself an inevitability in the Bleak House of Sangh, the BJP was all about defeatism and disowning its own Rightist space in Indian politics. It was about a profusion of leaders whose ambition was never validated by their influence, even as the party withdrew from the national mind space, despite its regional successes. It was about invoking displaced gods to appease the angry Hindu, not to speak of sulking deities within the house.

A decade of powerlessness had made BJP a party in denial.

Then Modi happened, not because of the party, but in spite of it. For a man whose entire political career as an administrator was about building his own mythology as a leader larger than what his office demanded, the journey to Delhi—which began more than ten years ago from Ahmedabad—was marked by a series of referendums on the cult of the performer. Today, his argument with India is driven by his own biography as a ruler, and it is the argument of a man passionate about power. Modi has taken complete ownership of ‘change’ with the same ease with which he has made the party his own.

The change is written in the party’s manifesto, which comes with the slogan, ‘One India, Greater India’—no projection of the Leader-Redeemer is complete without a certain amount of pulp nationalism. On a closer read, though, this manifesto is the party’s most definitive documentation of life after Ayodhya. The perfunctory dedication to the cause of the temple is almost an afterthought, and it is a good thing as it comes from a party that is so used to invoking Ram whenever in doubt. The vandalised god may still be powerful imagery for the shirtless legion that constitutes the base.

But the deification of Modi as doer extraordinaire has ensured that the erstwhile mascot of masculine Hindutva doesn’t require any further dose of divinity, and particularly so when his performance has Benares as backdrop. He doesn’t have to talk about gods and temples—and he has not throughout this campaign—when the symbolism of Benares does the work for him. He has to talk a lot more about national repairing, about reclaiming the future. This election, unlike the BJP’s chariot race to power in the last century, is not a culture war. And culture wars are hard to win in India of the twenty-first century, which is, demographically, one of the youngest in the world. The aesthetics of Nagpur is incompatible with the cultural attitudes of the younger generation that is

8 open

swayed by the message of Modi.

This election, as the conventional argument goes, is not about a magical recovery of India’s economy either. No meaningful revival of the economy is possible without structural reforms in governance. The Manmohan Singh decade deepened the structural cracks. The best part of the manifesto provides a structural context to the text of reforms, and that is what India of the moment needs. Take this: ‘Administrative reforms will be a priority for the BJP. Hence we propose to implement through an appropriate body under the PMO. The objective will be to bring in transparency in government’s decision-making process. Government systems and processes would be relooked to make them citizen-friendly, corruption-free and accountable. Every effort will be made to meet the development aspirations of the people and make the government agencies accountable to the citizens… From birth certificate to school admission, from setting up business to paying taxes, our present systems complicate the lives of our own people.’ A touch of AAP here? This is common sense, and that is the minimum requirement any democracy worth its people will expect of a government, and that is exactly what the outgoing UPA regime has failed to deliver. If the Indian economy has stopped growing the way it should, and if crony capitalism has become the only growth story in the regulation raj, there is something horrifyingly wrong with the system. The party that pledges to reform the system first is the party worthy of India now (and AAP cannot be that party because its idea of structural reforms is more hallucinatory than constitutional).

Market freedom cannot be sustained by a system that weakens almost every institution of democracy.

That is why change today rhymes with the slogan of responsible governance. Still, Modi’s BJP does not articulate the idea of change from an entirely Rightist perspective, the unnecessary caution on foreign investment in retail being an example. Even as the party’s prime ministerial candidate sells the Indian Dream to converts as well as believers, somehow another image too persists: the BJP as a party of shopkeepers. At last, the party has realised that it cannot win the culture war, and, ironically, this realisation coincides with the ascent of a man who was one of its fiercest culture warriors. It is not bold enough to make the only Rightist argument India ought to win at this moment—the economic argument. Maybe, Modi too believes that the most feasible position of governance today is centrist, no matter where you come from, left or right. His party’s manifesto of governance reveals the mind of a man who thinks his moment has come. The postAyodhya BJP needed a different kind of god and Narendra Modi offered himself. n 21 april 2014

open essay

By Shiv Visvanathan

The Meaning of Candidate Nilekani

Hope and fears about the future of technocratic imagination

struggles which range from the epic and the operatic to the slapstick. While Narendra Modi’s battle to be Prime Minister dominates the horizon, other battles demand a different attention. One of the most intriguing of these is Nandan Nilekani’s decision to stand as a Congress candidate from Bangalore.

Nilekani’s battle with Ananth Kumar is seen by many as a paradigm and a parable for the future of the technocratic imagination. To argue that Nilekani is a singular phenomenon is misleading. He has to be placed in a history of similar debates.

The colonial imagination produced technocrats like Cyril Stanley Fox, Thomas Holland and Francis Spring. But the nationalist idea of a technocracy began when a young physicist named Meghnad Saha became irritated with the slovenliness of Congress politics. Inspired by the Bolshevik Revolution in which scientists and politicians worked together, Saha went out in search of his Lenin in 1934.

Saha found his Indian Lenin in Subhash Chandra Bose. As president of the Congress, Bose established the National Planning Committee. As a nationalist tactic, this was the beginning of the technocratic imagination in India with the Committee as its imaginative hub. This technocratic vision had a stormy start with an open quarrel between Saha and India’s first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. Saha dreamt of a society based on the scientific method where everything from rivers to calendars would conform to his new dream of science. Against the advice of West Bengal’s then Chief Minister, BC Roy, he stood for Parliament and became India’s only scientist who has directly fought and won an election.

The decades that followed were more genteel years where the scientist, in PC Mahalanobis’ words, felt he should ‘be on top rather than on tap’. The scientist as technocrat was more

of a consultant, a middleman. Despite an active Left, politics and science were better combined by the social movements in science that dreamt of taking science and the scientific temper to the country’s villages.

The Indian story erupted in a new way with the rise of Sam Pitroda, a carpenter’s son who became the first engineer technocrat in independent India whose achievements became folklore. His ideas sought to transform everything from the baroque money-order form to telecommunications.

He was especially keen on creating a Knowledge Commission. Pitroda and his Jeeves, Jairam Ramesh, imbued the new possibilities of technology with a passion that added a mystique to the Rajiv Gandhi Government.

The rise of Nandan Nilekani as a technocrat-politician has to be seen in this context. Nilekani was boss of Infosys, one of India’s most successful firms. His book Imagining India was a bestseller, proving he could be reflexive in communicating the social imagination of a technocracy, which saw innovation as the new sacrament. It was clear that Nilekani saw technocracy as a part of the public sphere and technology as a public good to be facilitated politically. As an infotech expert, Nilekani felt governance could be technology-aided and inspired. His Aadhaar card was an attempt to rationalise and simplify access to the entitlements of citizenship, an infotech supplement to Amartya Sen’s work on entitlements. Good philosophy and good governance, he suggested, could create a different regime of citizenship.

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ilekani has always been surrounded by power and subject to scrutiny. The database required for his card brought him into a clash with the Ministry of Home Affairs, which

the star technocrat Former Infosys chief and current Congress candidate Nandan Nilekani campaigns in the Jayanagar locality of Bangalore fotocorp

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ndian elections as theatre connects a whole range of

feared security violations. Human rights activists got apoplectic at the mention of Aadhaar, arguing that it disadvantages the poor against the State. The jury is still out on that, but the dream of new social technologies has caught the public imagination.

Governance is the new magic word, creating a sense that politics as problem-solving cannot do without technology or the technological imagination.

Yet, Nilekani has created deep shadows of doubt about the technocratic regime in politics. Technocrats were seen as a club, and the overemphasis on technology, critics felt, diminished the political, substituting efficiency for justice.

Technocracies were seen as creating a hierarchical top-down politics. In reply, technocrats felt that the new social revolutions in media turned such doubts into mere anachronisms.

The consumer’s role in new technologies was almost legendary. The domestication of the mobile phone was an oft-repeated argument for this new world.

At another level, the new technology-leavened policy was supposed to quicken politics. Policy became a way of speeding up the world. For some, the Aadhaar card was seen as the beginning of a new technocratic millennialism. But, this much was clear, Nilekani was becoming a folklore figure second only to M Vivesveraya, the doyen of Indian planning.

When Nandan Nilekani announced his candidacy from the Bangalore South constituency, there was a sense of inevitability. His opponent was the BJP leader Ananth Kumar. One anticipated a battle of giants between a seasoned politician and a seasoned technocrat. The election seemed a harbinger of things to come, a signal of the increasing participation of technocrats in the drama of Indian politics.

Nandan Nilekani was an open persona, who was at home with the bureaucracy and easy with the press, which treated him as perpetual news, a magical creature of a fading regime. Nilekani, like Pitroda, propped up the Congress reputation for efficiency at a time it was facing charges of sloth and corruption. The public, as one observer put it, was waiting for an epidemic of Nilekanis, and many from IITs took to politics and policy with a new enthusiasm. Some almost astrologically predicted he would be the next PM. Nilekani’s electoral battle appeared distant from the general lassitude of Congress politics. He attracted interesting opposites like Girish Karnad, the playwright, and UR Ananthamurthy, a major novelist and one of India’s leading public intellectuals. Ananthamurthy’s decision to support Nilekani caught his supporters flat-footed. One asked him his reasons for support. The answers were well-thought out, if not fully convincing. It captured the new optimism over the Nilekani effect, though it was never clear whether he is backing the man or the phenomenon. At another level, such support for Nilekani seems short-lived. He appears relevant now, but Arvind Kejriwal seems to be the wave of the future.

Ananthamurthy noted that Nandan was an interesting

man. He claimed that it demands humility to confront other forms of intelligence in politics. Nilekani, Ananthamurthy claims, has the alertness and stamina to do so. He was learning another way of life and losing his contempt for politics, even realising that politicians can be a harassed class too. There was also a suggestion that Nilekani could overcome the Bangalore-versus-Karnataka divide wrought by information technology. Nilekani, he felt, could break the snobbery of the infotech elite, and, as a Kannada-speaking individual, break through to other cultures.

Elections, Ananthamurthy feels, can cure technocratic arrogance. Yet, beyond this, there is a feeling that the Modi juggernaut must be stopped and Bangalore can do it. One forgives the Congress because of a Nilekani. At that level, Nilekani hints at a new possibility for technology and politics. There is a feeling that the Nilekanis, Shaws and Narayana Murthys might cleanse the system.

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his dream of technocrats cleansing the system signals

a range of messages. There is first a feeling that the new technologies don’t carry the baggage of the past. They are science-driven and many believe that such perspectives are transferable magically to politics. Many consider such expert politics ‘clean politics’.

But there is a current of disquiet over supporting such moves. It stems from a deeper politics of culture. Many Bangaloreans feel that the infotech-biotech class as a technocracy displays little or no accountability to people at large.

They are a self-styled elite with no sense of the everydayness of the lives of the rest of the population. Some add that technology as plumbing is hardly a model for politics, while others feel it is a shotgun solution, arguing that without the baggage of Aadhaar, Nilekani could easily be a BJP recruit. The fissures here are deep, going beyond the current polls.

The disquiet begins with Nilekani being treated as an icon.

Many activists feel marginalised and ask whether such instant technocracies of wealth and power are genuinely democratic. Is Nilekani and therefore the technocratic imagination genuinely open to democratic debate? Others feel that Nilekani and Modi are parts of the same vision, that Modi’s dream is just a technocracy with a BJP gloss. In a deep sense, Nilekani’s entry into politics creates deep fears, a politics of hope and a politics of anxiety, and becomes symbolic of the contestations of the future.

Whether Nilekani wins or not is now irrelevant. He has created the seeds of a new debate where India’s middle-class will have to work out its visions of new politics. In that one move, Nandan Nilekani becomes a metaphor for a troubled, confusing and even exciting future. n

Technocrats were seen as a club, and the overemphasis on technology diminished the political, replacing justice with efficiency

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Shiv Visvanathan considers himself a social science nomad 21 april 2014

Aatish Taseer a bend in the ganges

There’s No Silence Louder than Rahul in Benares

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irst—before I get into how and why I ended up in Benares—I must give you, in order of appearance, the fixtures at Pappu’s chai shop. Which, this election season, is part salon, part TV studio, part pure political theatre. More can be known from this configuration of characters about the mood and dynamic of the present election than any amount of hours spent in Delhi’s drawing rooms. And, here is a general observation: unlike Delhi—where I have a standing bet with Barkha Dutt that Modi will not even be the BJP’s prime ministerial candidate, let alone prime minister; or, where the editor of a major paper was saying till only last year that Modi would not win a single seat outside Gujarat—the people of Benares like to be right about politics, rather than correct or wishful. And, at Pappu’s shop, they have been acquainted for some time now with certain truths that they are genuinely surprised it has taken others so long to figure out: 1) they are—and have eternally been—the centre of the world, and 2) Narendra Modi is going to be India’s next Prime Minister.

But, first: the characters who, once darkness falls and the roar and smokiness of evening in small-town India merge into each other, assemble in this open-air theatre of three wooden benches, their surface smooth with use. There is Dr Subehdar Singh, a burly, grim-faced mountain of a man, with thick lips and a broad expanse of white stubble. He is a socialist and lifelong SP politician, and from his unhappy countenance it is possible to sense the thrashing the Yadavs are to receive in the approaching election. There is Dr RP Singh, a feral and watchful former museum curator at Benares Hindu University. He is prone to theatrics and whispered confidences. Once a socialist and SP man himself, he seems to have plumped firmly now on the side of Modi, and when Subehdar Singh is not listening, he will say furtively to me: “The SP has prostituted itself. And let me tell you, they’re very smart, this BJP bunch. At just the right moment they abandoned this rubbish about mosques and temples. They know young people don’t give a toss about these things. They want the best hospitals and malls and roads; that is what this election is about.” Then there is Ashok Pandey, the BJP pravakta. A jowly man with crooked teeth and 14 open

impish globy eyes. He has known the aforementioned bunch all his life—three generations, in fact—and though he tries not to seem triumphalist, sometimes, especially when the TV reporter from Shri News arrives, he can’t help himself. Then flaring his eyes, and alluding to the fact that there are four members of Mulayam Singh Yadav’s family standing in this election, he cracks his favourite joke: “Lohia used to say ‘All the party’s workers are my family’. Mulayam says ‘My family is the party’.”And then there is—how could I forget him!— Badri Vishal, the comic poet, with a single tooth, like a rapper, turned blackish-red from paan. He runs an agency on the side that helps people get passports and PAN cards. Which is just as well: because Badri Vishal, the truth be told, is not all that funny. Not professionally funny, at least. He did make one nice remark, though. In a heated conversation about outsiders coming to contest from Benares, he said: “So, what’s the big deal? Everyone here is from outside. Ninety per cent of the population are outsiders. Even Bhole Nath was an outsider. He moved from the Himalayas and came to live here, didn’t he?” Nice one, Badri Vishal! These are the main players.

The supporting cast includes: two morose Brahmins who will occasionally become animated; a bank manager who gives them a hard time: saavan ke andhe hariyali hi hariyali dekhte hain; and, a large, very dark Muslim poet—a “sadak chhaap”of a poet, if RP Singh is to be trusted—with a white beard, who is strategically cagey about which way his community will go in the election. This question—of which way the Muslim vote will go, and here Kejriwal and gang stand a better chance than they perhaps know themselves— constitutes one of the silences, the known unknowns, in what has come to feel like an election of silences. Of negative spaces and things left unsaid.

21 April 2014

and television. That is not to say that people are no longer poor; some are very poor, much poorer than they ought to be; but they don’t sound like poor people. They sound, even in some of the poorest parts of Bihar and Poorvanchal, like middle-class people with not enough money. And when middle-class people do not have enough money, they do not accept the fact with grace or equanimity; they get angry. Very angry. And it is to this anger that Modi—and, it must be confessed, Kejriwal too—has been able to speak directly. Not Rahul. He—like Arundhati Roy, that other prophetess of the picturesque poor—is ever in search of that man who, with dead worshipful eyes, will look to him as his benefactor. And he might well find him in some tribal pocket of India. But this man is no longer representative. He might at a pinch win him the chief ministership of Jharkhand—and this is a job our sepoy prince, after this election, would do well not to disdain—but he cannot make him Prime Minister of India.

The enigma that is Rahul Gandhi has proved too inscrutable for the people of Benares.

No one has a word to say about him, not even a harsh word

21 April 2014

illustration anirban ghosh

And of these, no silence is louder than the one that has fallen over Rahul Gandhi. For, if something seems missing from my list above, if somewhere we sense an absence more substantial than a presence, it is because such an omission has indeed been made. The Congress party is not merely wounded, not merely low in spirits or down on its luck, a little anaemic, it simply does not exist. That for so long there was no Congress candidate from Benares—there is one now: a popular local man, Ajay Rai—is significant only in that nobody here had taken any notice of the fact. For a while Priyanka’s name was being bandied about—and Subehdar Singh conceded this would make some difference to the contest, but then he quickly added: “Congress abhi Priyanka ki bali chadhaane ke liye taiyyar nahin hai. Jab Rahul bilqul flop ho jaayega, tab voh aage aayegi.’

Jab Rahul bilqul flop ho jaayega! This was—I swear!—the only time his name came up. Yes: the enigma that is Rahul Gandhi has proved too inscrutable for the people of Benares. No one speaks of him; no one mentions his name; no one has a word to say about him, not even a harsh word.

Now this might seem unsurprising to some—that a member of the Gandhi family should step forward, should offer himself before the public, and the public, like a child refusing some final morsel of its dinner, should turn away in cold disdain— but for someone, as myself, born in 1980, whose first complete sentence was ‘Indira Gandhi hai hai’, and whose first memory of a prime minister was of Rajiv Gandhi, this represents an astounding fact. An astounding change in the political consciousness of our country.

And for this—for this mountain of what Dr Freud considered to be the third of the opposites ‘loving’ admits, namely indifference—I will offer one simple explanation: the aam aadmi, as Rahul Gandhi envisions him, has ceased to exist. The man of my childhood (even more so of his), of leathery skin and bad teeth, who, with yellowing eyes, full of faith and fatalism, looked to some member of the Gandhi family as his saviour, has ceased to exist. Or, if he does exist, he can no longer swing an election. He is no longer the voter. There has been—and this is why people have thrown the khairat the Congress has put on offer back in its face—a middle-classification of people’s mindsets. India’s voters now come from that happy conjunction of denim, phone

I will say further that the extinction of this man—and his mentality—who the Gandhi family has nurtured so lovingly as the most captive of all voters, will, when it comes, be a welcome change. Because the anger of the new electorate this election, so nakedly visible among young people, is an electrifying and wonderful thing.

PS: In my rush to give you the news from Benares, I forgot to tell you why I’m here. Never mind. Next time. I’m here for a while… n Aatish Taseer’s new novel, The Way Things Were, will be published at the end of this year.

His weekly despatch from Benares will appear through the elections open www.openthemagazine.com 15

AMIT SHAH

HIS MASTER’S MIND He is as feared and admired a politician as his mentor. His strategic skills and organisational acumen are as legendary as the controversies that swirl around him are never-ending. PR RAMESH embarks on a journey in search of the real Amit Shah, variously described as the man who holds the key to Narendra Modi’s conscience, a rutheless artist of realpolitik , the smartest spin doctor in town and the man nobody dares mess with.

A definitive portrait 16 open

21 april 2014

brotherhood in trust Amit Shah with Narendra Modi

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he hotel in Muzaffarnagar where Amit Anilchandra Shah is staying tonight has several oversized chairs in the reception, an indication of the kind of visitors he is expecting. Jostling for a darshan with the man who has been given the unenviable job of winning Uttar Pradesh for Narendra Modi are legislators, candidates, friends and a gaggle of journalists.

Just back from a whirlwind tour in the hinterlands of western UP, the portly grandmaster of the electoral chessboard shows no sign of exhaustion. He praises some, chides a few, and in between speaks in chaste Gujarati on his cellphone to—who else?—Narendra Modi. After all, in the political lore of India 2014, Modi and Shah form a rare brotherhood built on trust. If there is one man who holds the key to the mysteries of Modi’s mind, that man is said to be Shah, who, for many within the party and outside it, remains as inscrutable as his master.

Shah, 49, gets less than five hours sleep these days. The BJP general secretary has to catch up with those he couldn’t meet the previous night, even after a long wait lounging in those huge chairs. Shah has more phone calls to make as he tucks into his favourite carrot parantha, mildly sweet and delicious with curd. He prefers a heavy breakfast, which would include buttered toast, several kinds of fruit, idli and vada. He starts off with milk mixed with hot water.

“I am blunt. If I convey a message, I will not nuance it to the extent that the very intent is lost,” says Shah, who is almost always accompanied by controversy. The latest one is over charges of a ‘hate speech’ he made in Shamli for which an FIR has been filed against him. This comes after the so-called ‘snoopgate’ scandal in which he faced allegations that he had ordered surveillance on a woman architect.

He looks unaffected by such diversions—he has survived bigger ones, including a Congress plot to get the CBI to arrest him in the Ishrat Jahan encounter case. He is undeterred by calls from opposition parties for a ban on his campaigning in the state.

Several BJP leaders Open spoke to say the BJP is back in the reckoning in UP thanks to Shah’s mind and methods. “He is very passionate and leaves nothing to chance. He is someone who doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He has always been a doer and therefore we are not surprised by what he did in UP,” says Shankarbhai Chaudhary, BJP’s Gujarat general secretary and MLA from Radhanpura. The BJP won only 10 seats last time in the country’s most populous state, which accounts for more Lok Sabha seats than any other, but the party is upbeat about its poll prospects this time around, forecasting 40-50 of the state’s 80 seats. Shah is the one who backed the idea of pitching Modi from the temple-city of Varanasi as part of a strategy to make major gains across the state, especially in the eastern belt of Poorvanchal, where the party has been weak. “Amitbhai’s mind

works like a machine gun,” says a BJP functionary in UP. BJP leaders contend that it is Modi who deserves the credit for tapping his abilities—something the party’s prime ministerial candidate has done for long, says Gujarat’s law minister Pradeep Singh Jadeja.“I met Modi when I was 17 years old. It is a 33-year-long association,” Shah says proudly. As Modi’s minister, he has handled 12 crucial portfolios, including home, parliamentary affairs, home guards, excise, law and justice, and transport.

In 1982, when they met, Shah was an RSS activist and Modi a pracharak in charge of youth activities in Ahmedabad’s Mahanagar area. Modi was so close to Shah that when the late RSS Sarsanghchalak Balasaheb Deoras asked him to join the BJP, the young Shah was one of the few people with whom Modi shared his apprehensions about the proposed role. “[Modi] was initially reluctant,” remembers Shah, “‘How can a square peg fit into a round hole?’ was his worry.”

By 1995, when the BJP was already in power in Gujarat, their association had grown thick. Modi had a mission and Shah was the implementor. The Congress was still a powerful force in the state with formidable influence in rural areas, cooperatives and sports bodies. “The BJP decided to systematically make deep inroads into the Congress bastions,” says Shah, now relaxing in his hotel suite. Both knew it was a long haul.

The first task was to challenge the Congress hold over rural Gujarat. They worked on a simple calculation—that for every elected village pradhan, there was an equally powerful and resourceful leader who failed to make the grade. The defeated

If I aspire to one job, it is an organisational role. I am even thinking of taking a six-month AMIT SHAH break after the polls

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headman was not ready to play second fiddle, nor ready to wait five years. Shah and a few of his handpicked assistants approached defeated pradhans and “set them up” as “a rival pull of attraction”. In no time, there was a network of 8,000 pradhan challengers working for the BJP, Shah recounts.

The next task was to demolish the Congress hold over sports bodies, especially in cricket and chess. Shah was in charge of an operation that resembled aggressive raids in the corporate world, and, after sustained effort, the BJP managed to dislodge the Congress from all sports bodies. This denied the rival party an important source of patronage.

The takeover would not be complete so long as Gujarat’s powerful cooperatives, whose role in the state’s economy was paramount, remained in Congress hands. The same strategy was employed here as well, notes Shah.

Of the 28 elections—to the state Assembly and various local bodies—that Shah has fought since 1989, he says, he has not 21 april 2014

Batting for the boss Shah must strike gold in Uttar Pradesh

lost a single one. It was in 1998 that he fought his first election to a primary cooperative body. The next year, he became President of Ahmedabad District Cooperative Bank, the biggest cooperative bank in the country. Elections to such bodies are usually won on caste considerations. Such banks have traditionally been controlled by Patels, Gaderias and Kshatriyas, and he managed to win despite the cooperative sector being a no-go zone for Banias.

When he took charge, the bank was on the verge of collapse.

With a share capital of Rs 38 crore, it had accumulated losses of Rs 36 crore. He turned it around within a year, and the bank registered profits of Rs 27 crore. Its bottomline is in the Rs 250 crore region now.

Shah, now Modi’s most trusted lieutenant, was given charge of the state’s crucial home portfolio. Typically, chief ministers

power posture Modi and Shah in a yoga session

like to keep a vice-like grip on the home ministry, unless they are under pressure to appease a particular section in the party or an ally. According to senior colleagues who have seen the bond between the two evolve, it was Modi who encouraged Shah to diversify his interests. “Don’t give up reading Gandhi.

Please read Vivekananda as well to broaden your perspective,” Modi used to tell him, says a party colleague, adding that Shah was also under the spell of his mother, who was deeply influenced by Mahatma Gandhi. When he was jailed shortly in 2010—on charges of ordering fake encounters as Gujarat’s home minister—after his mother’s demise, Shah spent his time in prison reading Lokmanya Tilak’s Gita Rahasya and Dayanand Saraswati’s Satyarth Prakash, which forms the core of Arya Samaj philosophy.

Senior BJP leaders say that it was BJP President Rajnath Singh,

and not Modi, who put Shah in charge of party affairs in UP. Singh was impressed by the organisational skills that Shah displayed in wresting control of various Congress-run enterprises in Gujarat. And he wanted him to do more, elsewhere. Shah was surprised at Singh’s suggestion that he oversee the party’s affairs in UP. The BJP leader had expected to be put in charge of a small state like Himachal Pradesh.

A MAN WITH MANY FRIENDS

Uttar Pradesh had been crucial for the BJP’s successful power runs in 1996, 1998 and 1999, but a letdown in subsequent general elections. It was clear that the party could do well at the Centre only if it found a way to maximise its returns from the state. It was a challenge. For more than a decade, UP had been the graveyard of reputations of stalwarts like the late Pramod

grudgingly concede that the approach was breathtakingly bold, and, at the same time, cunningly pragmatic. During candidate selection, past reputations were no insurance against a ruthless application of the winnability criterion, something that went against Murli Manohar Joshi, for example, in Varanasi. It was combined with the tact of appeasing bruised self-esteem.

Every single hurt soul was tended to, with blandishments offered in the form of promises of later adjustments. The aura of potential victory invested these with a ring of credibility. In all, it was not a scorched-earth policy but a worldly approach of the kind that has helped Gujarati Banias flourish on distant shores, says a BJP leader referring to the likes of Shah.

Uttar Pradesh has often flattered to deceive so far as BJP is concerned and Shah seems to be aware of the pitfalls. This prompts him to register a note of caution when his seniors seem convinced that appearances will not prove deceptive this time. According to BJP leaders, Shah has consistently pegged the BJP’s estimated tally in UP at 38 to 40, a realistic number even by the reckoning of his opponents. (He got a call from his son Jay while Open was with him, talking about an opinion poll conducted by a TV channel. “You are also going by what they say. Don’t get carried away,” Shah senior told Jay.) Shah is an out-and-out family man who cannot do without the company of his wife, son and close relatives. Yet, he keeps his kith and kin away from politics, a trait mostly seen among RSS cadres. Gujarat law minister Jadeja vouches for this, adding that the man was very close to his mother. Even if he came back late after party work, he would spend almost an hour with his mother, who didn’t sleep until the son came home. “He used to rest his head on her lap and talk to her about the family and enquire about her health,” says Jadeja, adding that it was tragic that Shah was arrested and jailed merely 13 days after his mother’s death.

Shah, who says he was born in Mumbai—rubbishing claims that he was born in Chicago—belongs to a wealthy family from Mehsana, where he finished his schooling before moving to Ahmedabad to study biochemistry. It was here that he was deeply influenced by the RSS and joined the organisation as a volunteer. The BJP heavyweight is reluctant to talk about the members of his business family. Shah briefly followed in father’s footsteps, starting a PVC pipe business. His grandfather, according to Jadeja, was a highly influential figure in Mehsana. Ask Shah about his family, and he replies, “Just leave it.”

Now, with perceptions gaining ground that the BJP could be within sniffing distance of power, a recent report in the media claimed that Shah could be a minister of state in the PMO. When asked about it, Shah is dismissive. “We are not so stupid to start counting chickens before they are hatched. For us, each seat remains a contest,” he says. “In any case, if I aspire to any job, it is to a role in the organisation. I am even thinking of taking a six-month break after the election.” But this is not going to stop speculation over the role he would play in a new dispensation if the BJP achieves power. Party circles are already agog

Balasaheb Deoras sent Modi to the BJP. He was initially reluctant. ‘How can a square peg fit into a round hole?’ was AMIT SHAH Modi’s worry.

Mahajan who were unable to revive the party’s fortunes here.

The state party unit was regarded as a virtual minefield, fraught with outsized egos and factional feuds, and with perceptions of the state’s status as a past pivot for saffron ascendancy adding complexity to the dynamics. The state was apportioned among squabbling ‘mahamantris’, which made the task of revival harder still for the party’s UP prabhari (in-charge); BJP sources say even Modi was worried about the odds stacked against Shah and the potential cost of failure.

For Shah, reluctance had given way to single-mindedness that has earned him the reputation of a ‘delivery boy’, a big departure for someone who says he is not interested in ministerial authority. “I am an organisational man. If there is one thing I aspired to, it was to become a general secretary of the BJP,” he says.

Over the past nine months, Shah has reached out to “all the egos and ambitions” that make up the state BJP, according to a senior party leader. Shah’s initial measures included sifting the party’s ‘have-beens’ from those with promise, opening the door to outsiders, and spotting potential among those languishing in the margins without mentorship. His natural approach was a blend of defiance and assertiveness on one hand and concessions to tactical needs on the other. Two months ago, Shah drew up a list of candidates who could hold their own against tough rivals in the Samajwadi Party and Bahujan Samaj Party, besides a few in the Congress. Diffidence had given way to a “jor ka dhakka iss baar (big push this time)” aggression.

Those who are worried about Modi’s ‘takeover’ of the BJP 21 april 2014

open www.openthemagazine.com 21

with the way Shah has familiarised himself with the functioning of the ‘mayanagari’ (town of illusions) that is Delhi.

The Road to Delhi

Shah shifted to Delhi from Ahmedabad only because of a Supreme Court order that barred him from visiting Gujarat, even without—as his friends and sympathisers such as Jadeja and Chaudhary allege—giving him a chance to be heard. Shah was released on bail on 29 October 2010, a Friday. The next day, Justice Aftab Alam took up a petition at his residence to have him barred from Gujarat (since it was a Saturday, the courts were closed).

That evening, Shah visited Arun Jaitley at the latter’s residence in East of Kailash. Jaitley fetched the keys to a house he owns in the Bengali Market area and asked him to move there. “Dolly (Jaitley’s wife) has made all arrangements for your stay there,” Jaitley told Shah, who politely refused. “You are the Leader of the Opposition and my staying at your residence will give ammunition to the party’s rivals,” he replied.

He and his wife moved to a room in Gujarat Bhawan instead. Now, when he is in Delhi, he stays in a flat in Jangpura.

But that reluctant visitor to Delhi four years ago has now familarised himself with the ways of Lutyens’ Delhi. “He knows about the orientation and preferences of ministers, bureaucrats, journalists, police officers and even judges. I think we have found our next organising secretary of the BJP,” says a BJP senior family man Shah takes extra care to keep his wife and son away from the limelight leader. Several others in the party also agree that Shah is cut out for such a role. “We have not seen such combination of pragma- ditional BJP voters—looking up to the BJP for a change. tism and ideological commitment in any other leader in recent What could have been a neat political play, however, has been years,” says another BJP leader. complicated by the Congress’ surprise decision to field a leader That pragmatism was on display when Open accompanied of the Bania community, traditionally friendly to the BJP. When he got up to speak, Shah brushed aside assertions from him on an impromptu interaction with traders in Muzzafarnagar. In the presence of nearly 200 of them, Shah the audience that he should not bother trying to win the seat wasted no time in coming to the point he wanted to make. This and instead concentrate his energy on other areas. “No seat is Lok Sabha seat appears to be in the BJP’s kitty already. The re- won until it is won. Why do you think the Congress has fieldgion has seen communal violence in recent times and the per- ed a Bania? Do you really expect the Congress candidate, who ception that the state’s SP government has been biased towards may be a good soul, to win? He has been inserted only to ensure Muslims has left even Jats and Gujjars—who have not been tra- the defeat of the BJP candidate. You all should forget the rest of 22 open

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UP and ensure that your votes don’t get split.”

Then came the emotive pitch about traders being harassed all the time by goons despite being tax payees who deserve respect. Within minutes, some people in the audience ushered in the cousin of the Congress candidate who professed his allegiance to the BJP. He was brought before a beaming Shah.

Master of Mega Rallies

BJP honchos feel that mega rallies by Modi have an ‘aura of invincibility’. They often point to the size of these crowds to counter sceptics who deny a wave in Modi’s favour. Of course, the use of rallies as a ‘force projection’ tool is not a new phenomenon. But Shah’s approach has introduced a new element. The BJP may have spent huge amounts of money to hire 3D holograms and ferry large media contingents to these rallies, but Shah was not ready to waste money on arranging paid crowds.

He worked out a plan.

For every village unit that falls in the zone of the venue of a rally, party workers were asked to hire one Bolero van each to transport people. This has been par for the course for all political parties. But what was different was that Shah refused to provide money for the hiring of these vehicles. Instead, what was offered was the prestige of being involved with the cause of the day. That it saved party funds apart, the big objective was to ensure that the worker who organised the Bolero became a leader of the village unit and that the nine or ten people who travelled with him to these rallies became converts. “He, therefore, developed a stake in the Modi project,” says a BJP local leader from Muzaffarnagar.

Shah is also a smart crisis manager. While Open was with Shah, he received a call from the tantrum-throwing sanyasin Uma Bharti complaining of ‘sabotage’ from within. “Didi, I hope you have a passport. Why don’t you travel to US to propagate

Financial Corporation. Shah has been an MLA since 1996, the year he was elected in a by-election. He went on to win Assembly polls several times again—1998, 2002, 2007 and in 2012. On each occasion, he improved his margin of victory.

Over the years, the RSS too started to see Shah as a big bet for the BJP. Among other things, what impressed the Sangh’s senior functionaries was his effort to pass a contentious piece of legislation in the Gujarat Assembly that would turn religious conversion—an issue that agitates the RSS and its offshoots—illegal.

The draft Gujarat Freedom of Religion Act was sent to Chief Minister Modi for his approval and cabinet’s consideration in 2003. When the draft reached Modi’s table, he summoned Shah. “Won’t this face resistance inside and outside the Assembly?” he asked Shah. State BJP leaders note that it was Shah who convinced Modi that the bill would pass without much trouble.

And it did. Modi was not present the day it was tabled and okayed in the House, but its enactment was aimed at making it difficult for religious groups in Gujarat to actively proselytise and convert people from one faith to another.

The Act, which is being challenged by opponents, outlaws the use of ‘force’ or ‘fraud’ to secure anyone’s conversion to another religion. Also, it requires people seeking to convert somebody to ask for the permission of the local District Magistrate, who must also be informed by any such convert of his orher conversion in writing. ‘An offer or any temptation in the form of any gift, gratification or grant of any material benefit, either monetary or otherwise,’ the Act decreed, would be illegal.

While opponents argue that this goes against the rights guaranteed by the Indian Constitution and could be misused, Shah states that it is only a measure against ‘forced conversions’.

He adds that he is not someone who rests on his laurels. After all, being an election strategist is nothing new for him. Over the years, he has handled several Lok Sabha campaigns for LK Advani in Gandhinagar.

In Gujarat, Shah is seen as a shrewd tactician. He is also very emotional, says Chaudhary.

“I keep looking ahead,” Shah says. After juggling phone conversations and meetings, he sets off on another day’s gruelling tour of the interiors of UP. This is perhaps the first time since the legendary organisational man Sunder Singh Bhandari’s tenure as the party’s point man in the state that a leader has managed to strike such a strong chord with ordinary party workers.

Shah pauses before walking away to his Innova. “In 2005 itself, I knew that Modi had in him the qualities to lead the country. Only a person who can do hard work can succeed,” he says.

As the politician who has worked so hard to conquer Delhi is closer to his destination, there is a man behind him working even harder for his master’s success. There is no reward higher than this for Amit Shah. n

I spent time in jail reading Tilak’s Gita Rahasya and Dayanand Saraswati’s Satyarth Prakash, which forms the core AMIT SHAH of the Arya Samaj philosophy Hindu dharma? By the time you return, you can take oath as an MP,” he told her, despite her protests. “Don’t you trust your brother? There is nothing to worry and you are winning by a huge margin,” said Shah, who was sent by the Sangh in 1983 to the ABVP, a crucible for youth leaders who have now emerged as some of the country’s best-known politicians.

Shah became an activist of the Bharatiya Jana Yuva Morcha in 1987. From ward secretary to taluka secretary, state secretary, vice-president, and then general secretary of the BJYM, he worked his way up. In 1995, when the BJP formed its government in Gujarat, he became the chairman of Gujarat State 21 april 2014

open www.openthemagazine.com 23

bureaucracy

Fear at the top

A new government means a new set of favourite bureaucrats. Who will stay on and who won’t?

Ullekh NP illustrations by anirban ghosh

B

ureaucrats with links to the Nehru-Gandhi family have never had it so good. The past decade saw them wield enormous power. While this is par for the course in a country like India, the likelihood of a regime change at the Centre may mean the end of a charmed existence for some and the beginning of a solid innings for others. Some of India’s most powerful bureaucrats are seen as smart and clean; others aren’t; they thrived despite mediocre success in their assignments. And there are those who were either passed over or shunted out of key posts unceremoniously, sometimes for flippant reasons.

Then there are senior officers who never retire thanks to a culture of sinecures. Will some of the country’s top babus lose their influence or will they retain clout under a new dispensation? For sure, there will be new contenders.

Rajiv Takru Revenue Secretary A former chief executive of Prasar Bharti, he is a favourite of the UPA. This 1979 batch IAS officer of the Gujarat cadre has however not endeared himself to some of his colleagues who say that he is irascible by nature. Takru has also incurred the displeasure of bureaucrats in the finance services wing for being ‘rigid’ in handling cases in the banking sector—such as the bad loans crisis of the State-owned United Bank. His proximity with the Congress leadership has made him very powerful, but that may prove to be costly if the UPA is unseated in this election. Takru, who was additional secretary and financial advisor in the Ministry of Health and Family Welfare, had no previous experience in the financial sector.

24 open

Anil Goswami

Bimal Julka

Home Secretary

I&B Secretary

The first officer of the Jammu & Kashmir cadre to be named to this important post, his name was announced two months in advance— instead of the usual one month—to replace RK Singh, who didn’t share good ties with Home Minister Sushil Kumar Shinde. Singh ensured that no file reached Goswami’s desk until the day he retired. Goswami was the first CEO of the Vaishno Devi Shrine Board after it was taken over by the Government and had been Principal Secretary to Congress leader Ghulam Nabi Azad when he was J&K Chief Minister. A 1978 batch IAS officer, he is perceived to be close to Shinde and a few other senior Congress leaders. His association with BJP leader Jagmohan may not be enough to see him do well under a new regime.

He holds a position that typically requires him to play the regime’s spinmeister. Which explains why the I&B Secretary’s post is usually the first casualty whenever there is a change of guard. Prior to his current appointment, this IAS officer of the 1979 batch of the Madhya Pradesh cadre had held the post of special secretary and financial advisor in the Ministry of External Affairs. He has also served as additional secretary and director general in the Directorate of Currency under the Ministry of Finance. He has worked closely with Omita Paul, President Pranab Mukherjee’s all-powerful aide. He has earlier worked in the Defence and Civil Aviation ministries, among others. Known to be well-networked, he enjoys good ties with Congress leaders as well as with BJP leaders but an NDA-led government would be keen on empowering further favourites such as Gauri Kumar (1979 batch, Gujarat cadre IAS), Bharat Lal (currently resident commissioner, Gujarat Bhavan), Shankar Aggarwal (1980 batch, UP cadre IAS), K Kailashnathan, GC Murmu and Arvind Sharma (all Modi’s men from the Gujarat cadre of IAS).

K Desiraju Former Health Secretary A 1978 batch Uttarakhand cadre officer and regarded as one of the country’s most upright bureaucrats, he was transferred overnight from the Union Ministry of Health and Family Welfare overnight—with no reason cited—to the Ministry of Consumer Affairs over apparent differences of opinion with Health Minister Ghulam Nabi Azad. The no-nonsense Desiraju has been handson and dynamic as Health Secretary, opposing vested commercial interests and corrupt practices. A section of the media has suggested that his opposition to naming Ketan Desai as a key functionary of the Medical Council of India cost him his job. He was also against the issuance of a licence to an ‘influential’ overseas maker of stents. He had travelled with the minister to Hardwar the day he was transferred, but was not informed of the move. IAS officers who were outraged at his transfer say they won’t be surprised if he lands a plum post under a non-Congress regime.

21 April 2014

RK Mathur Defence Secretary Mathur, a 1977 batch IAS officer, would be lucky if he overcomes the odds stacked against him. The lacklustre performance of the defence ministry under AK Antony could have an indirect effect on the country’s defence bureaucracy. The BJP’s prime ministerial candidate has launched a sharp attack on Antony—following a series of naval mishaps—for not doing enough on the defence modernisation front.

V Rajagopalan Environment Secretary He is a 1978 batch IAS officer of the Uttar Pradesh cadre. He may not face hurdles in gaining a position of power under a new government because he took charge of his current job after a spate of controversial no-go decisions by the Environment Ministry when Jairam Ramesh was at the helm. That he often stays away from the public glare would work in his favour.

Sujatha Singh Foreign Secretary The position of India’s Foreign Secretary typically doesn’t see a replacement on a change in government, unless he or she is retiring. Singh, a career diplomat who replaced Ranjan Mathai last year and belongs to the 1976 batch, will certainly have a lot on her plate as India contends with changing geopolitical equations in its neighbourhood and beyond.

Arvind Mayaram Economic Affairs Secretary His strong links to the Congress party and a member of the NehruGandhi family mean that he may not enjoy his current status as a powerful bureaucrat if a BJP-led alliance forms the next government.

However, this 1978 batch Rajasthan cadre IAS officer is respected for his good track record, and would therefore be put to good use by any government, as one of his seniors forecasts. The argument in his favour is that he is not someone who, unlike Principal Secretary to the PMO Pulok Chatterjee, remains fiercely loyal to the present dispensation.

26 open

PK Sinha Power Secretary A 1977 batch IAS officer of the Uttar Pradesh cadre, Sinha was previously secretary in the Ministry of Shipping. He was named to the post in June last year following the superannuation of incumbent P Uma Shankar. This noncontroversial bureaucrat joined the IAS at the age of 22.

An officer with an exemplary record, Sinha has the credentials to become the next Cabinet Secretary. He was instrumental in several much-acclaimed new initiatives of the Shipping Ministry.

stumped | Madhavankutty Pillai

Corruption, Riots and Immortality Listening to the claims of Manmohan Singh, Mulayam Singh Yadav and Karunanidhi

I

ndian Prime Minister Manmohan

Singh finally decided to get into the heat and dust of elections. He began with Assam and then on Sunday stood before an audience of Malayalees in Ernakulam in Kerala defending his government’s achievements. Never the most excitable of orators, he was as deadpan as ever, speaking as if it were a SAARC summit.

Some illustrations: “The Indian Naval Academy established at Ezhimala is a world class educational and training facility for the Navy. The Bharat Earth Movers Ltd has set also up a new unit in the State”, “The long pending International Container Transshipment Terminal at Vallarpadam in Kochi, built at a cost of about 2,100 crore Rupees, was dedicated to the country in February 2011”, so on and so forth.

Not exactly the stuff to get a crowd foaming and frothing, but they might have perked up a little when he talked about corruption. He said, “We are also accused of not trying hard enough to check corruption. This accusation is completely false. The truth is that we have taken more measures than any other Government to contain corruption…The Right to Information Act has empowered the common citizen to know more about the work of Government than ever before. This has not only increased the possibility of irregularities coming to light, but has also induced fear in those who want to indulge in malpractices…We wanted to enact a few more laws for fighting corruption. But we could not make these laws because of a total lack of cooperation by the opposition parties in Parliament.”

In other words, whatever corruption was not there was because of his Government, and whatever was there was because of the opposition.

21 April 2014

Somewhere, someplace, A Raja would be scratching his head.

Just as straight-faced was Mulayam Singh Yadav when he finally decided to pay a visit to riot-hit Muzaffarnagar and addressed a rally, and sought to portray the Samajwadi Party government’s response as the best there has ever been in Indian history to any riot. The Uttar Pradesh government has been facing charges of extreme apathy for the manner in which it evicted riot victims from relief camps. In such an environment, Mulayam said that earlier riot victims were never given assistance. “For the first time ever, we decided that the families of those who died in the riots will be given government jobs. And besides that, we will help them build houses. And we helped.”

Coming from a leader who ignored the illustration anirban ghosh

area during and after the riots and is only visiting just days before polling to ask for votes, it is strange that he would expect to be taken seriously. But that is why they say politicians have short memories and thick skins.

Another hallmark of the breed is that they never say die, even when they are 90 years old. Case in point: M Karunanidhi, who by all surveys, is going to face the decimation of his party in Tamil Nadu.

An NDTV report on a speech of his in Coimbatore described him telling the audience that this would be his last election. To which, a chorus arose from below: “Don’t say that, don’t say that.”

Karunandhi immediately took it to heart and promised, “If you take the oath, I will live not only 10 to 15 years more, but another 50 years, to protect the Tamil race and Tamils.” That is an election promise difficult to implement since he would be 140 years old after 50 years. But then, if the ‘new generation’ in political parties can be one of 60-year-olds, 140 seems an appropriate age to retire.

Narendra Modi may have many abilities, but punning is not one of them.

While starting on a speech in Aligarh, he noticed some men trying to climb poles and immediately got to work framing the pun—‘Aap pole pe rise karte ho, yeh akhbarwaale likhte hain Modi polariser hai.’

Loosely translated, that would be: you rise on the pole and then newspapers write that Modi is a polariser. On a scale of one to ten, that pun would be marked two. For one thing, someone rises on a pole instead of climbing it only if someone else wants to use the word polariser in his speech. n A weekly column on election speeches open www.openthemagazine.com 31

the times of india group

dynasty

PATRIARCH IN PATHOS At 90, he is presiding over a disintegrating dynasty, and this election could be the last electoral battle of a man who scripted some sensational moments in Dravidian politics.

Vaasanthi captures the agony of being M Karunanidhi

“H

e is our one and only leader!”

exclaims the young man, cheered by other cadres at Arivalayam, headquarters of the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK). “The thalaivar’s (leader’s) word is law. Our party rests on the tenets ‘duty, propriety and discipline’. Whoever dares defy it will be punished irrespective of who they are.”

Muthuvel Karunanidhi, 90, leader of the DMK, and former—five-time—Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, sitting in a wheelchair facing press reporters, is a pale shadow of that impassioned description. It must be an agonising exercise for him to say in clear unfaltering words what he must of his elder son: “We have expelled Alagiri from the DMK for his persistent slanderous attacks on party seniors and anti-party activities despite already having been suspended from the party.” His colleague and DMK General Secretary K Anbazhagan, who had issued a statement to that effect on 25 March, sits in silence, aware that it’s not the end of the story. It was no fable of the prodigal son, though it all began with a question as old as Adam: ‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ Alagiri, the challenger, has been unable to accept his younger brother MK Stalin as his father’s successor, and he will not rest till he brings down the roof.

Karunanidhi must do what’s best for the party without flinching. After his crushing electoral defeat in 2001, the

21 April 2014

DMK chief had said, “I have seen this and more. Gone are the days when I was emotionally swayed.” Perhaps his emotions have been long dead after the series of blows inflicted on them over the past few years, even before the 2011 Assembly election results brought home the fact that the DMK had reached its nadir. If any emotion gets supremacy now, it’s the patriarch’s need to resurrect the party before he finally bows out. For that, no sacrifice is big enough. He has come to believe that the son he has groomed for the party’s leadership, Stalin, much loved and respected by party-men and cadres, will be able to cope with the pressure of taking charge.

For a leader who used his cinema script-writing skills for his own ascent in Tamil politics, it is ironical that Karunanidhi has never written one on sibling rivalry. His script of Parasakthi (1952), the film which catapulted him to fame, glorified sibling affection and made audiences weep. More than half a century later, Alagiri stands before him screaming that he has been partial to Stalin. Consumed by jealousy, the elder son threatens to destroy everything his father has assiduously built by openly questioning the patriarch’s integrity.

He is striving, he says, to save the party from ‘evil forces’ that have come to dominate—a reference to his own brother.

He is flirting with opposition parties, which are asking for his support for the

Lok Sabha polls in Tamil Nadu.

Convinced that he is a political heavyweight in the state’s southern parts, especially in Madurai, he seems to consider himself invincible.

That is worrying. Will he be a spoiler?

Karunanidhi knows that he is to be blamed for what is happening now. He has always said, “The party is my family”, but as he began ageing, he began to blunder—putting the family cart before the party horse.

Alagiri has been suspended before and has been known as a thorn and an embarrassment to Karunanidhi, who has tried his best to keep him under control by alternately indulging him with posts and admonishing him when he went his own way. But this time round, Alagiri has crossed all limits, uttering words that ‘no father could bear to hear’.

It all began on 5 January, when the DMK leadership disbanded the party’s Madurai unit, which was loyal to Alagiri, and also suspended five of his close associates after they filed complaints alleging that Stalin supporters were indulging in caste clashes. In the wee hours of 24 January, on his return from a trip abroad, Alagiri went straight to his father’s Gopalapuram residence, barged into the old man’s room, and asked why his men had been suspended. In an outburst against his father’s favouritism, Alagiri allegedly warned that Stalin’s days were open www.openthemagazine.com 33

numbered. After he left, Karunanidhi summoned Stalin and other senior leaders home to decide on how to contain the elder son’s rebellion. There was no option but to take strict action, it was felt.

The statement issued—‘Alagiri was suspended for speaking against the leaders of other parties who were interested in having an electoral understanding with the DMK’—was an allusion to Vijayakanth of the DMDK, believed to have a vote share of 8 per cent, with whom the DMK was hoping to forge an electoral alliance. Since Vijayakanth’s base was Madurai, Alagiri’s bastion, the elder son saw a threat in it.

Back in that temple town, even as his supporters were preparing a gala birthday celebration for him, Alagiri told the media that his suspension was undemocratic and extreme, and that he would reveal his plan in the next three months.

Meanwhile in Chennai, Karunanidhi told the media of Alagiri’s dire words against Stalin. To ensure a smooth succession, he knew the value of gaining sympathy for Stalin among cadres.

The real cause of the friction between the brothers, sources in the DMK say, was Alagiri’s complaint of corrupt practices in the management of party assets worth hundreds of crores, controlled by a committee headed by Stalin. It was reminiscent of the late MG Ramachandran’s (MGR’s) revolt back in the early 1970s, when he questioned the lack of transparency in DMK funds, was expelled, and started the AIADMK as a rival party.

Alagiri, of course, has neither the charisma nor the following that MGR had, but his charges of corruption and threats of blackmail, if allowed, could have hurt the DMK. By drawing attention to Alagiri’s jealousy of his younger brother, Karunanidhi was trying to have a singlepoint explanation of the feud prevail.

After all, Alagiri has famously had a long-standing grouse against his father, who always seemed to favour Stalin, the more urbane and mature of the two brothers. Karunanidhi had also groomed Stalin as a leader in his own mould, even though he once remarked that “the DMK is not a Shankara Mutt” that he would pass on his mantle to a chosen successor.

But a successor, Stalin clearly is.

When Stalin first entered politics, he lacked the oratorical skills of his father, 34 open

but gradually trained himself in public speaking. His first public office was as the elected Mayor of Chennai (1996-2001), where he acquired a reputation as an able administrator. Alagiri, who joined politics later, has repeatedly expressed discomfort with Stalin’s growing clout within the DMK, saying, “I cannot accept anyone other than my father as the leader of the party.”

On his part, the father saw prudence in keeping the brothers apart. He packed Alagiri off to Madurai, asking him to take care of the town’s edition of the party mouthpiece Murasoli. In time, Alagiri turned this area into his fiefdom and be-

Alagiri is waiting to strike back. While his proximate target may be Stalin, observers sense it would be Karunanidhi he may want to get even with came a power centre in his own right, with a ring of acolytes who had criminal records as his henchmen. They became a formidable force that Tamils in the state’s southern districts came to fear.

Karunanidhi knew of all this, but let Alagiri play buffer against his political rivals in the region.

For example, when V Gopalasamy (better known as Vaiko), an emerging DMK leader and a fiery speaker, was expelled for ‘anti-party activities’ in 1993 (he was seen as a threat to Stalin) and he formed his own party, the MDMK, Alagiri helped keep the DMK flock together in the southern districts where Vaiko held sway. And when the DMK came to power in Tamil Nadu in 1996, Alagiri virtually became the southern region’s uncrowned prince.

In 2000, he created such a problem for the party’s image that Anbazhagan instructed party cadres to disassociate themselves from him. In 2001, after a fracas over candidate selection for the state’s Assembly polls in which Alagiri sought to defy the DMK high command and

draft his own henchmen, he was suspended from the party. But the prodigal son was soon back again.

In 2003, after Jayalalithaa of the AIADMK had assumed power as CM, Alagiri was arrested for his alleged involvement in the murder of T Krittinan, a former DMK minister and Stalin supporter. He got out on bail, but began to sulk as his public image was getting sullied even as Stalin’s shone ever brighter among cadres. The latter’s stature as a leader grew once Karunanidhi was back as CM in 2006, and there was even talk of his assuming charge as Deputy CM. For Alagiri, the last straw came in the form of an opinion poll published by the Tamil daily Dinakaran, owned by Dayanidhi and Kalanidhi, sons of Karunanidhi’s nephew Murasoli Maran, that said 70 per cent of voters wanted Stalin to succeed Karunanidhi as DMK chief; only 2 per cent wanted Alagiri. On 9 May 2007, supporters of Alagiri burnt down the Madurai office of Dinakaran, leaving two employees and a security guard dead. In its news bulletins, the Maran-owned Sun TV accused Alagiri of being responsible for the violence and called for his arrest.

Realising the impact of such a telecast on the state’s electorate, Karunanidhi went into damage-control mode. Senior party leaders convened to condemn the ‘anti-party activities’ of Dayanidhi Maran, who was India’s telecom minister at the Centre at the time, and expelled him from the party. Karunanidhi also announced that a probe of the Madurai attack would be handed over to the CBI, as his own son’s role was in question.

After that, the father let Alagiri run the party in the southern region the way he wanted, whether it was picking administrative and police officers or party functionaries. In the bypolls of 2008, Alagiri was able to secure three major victories in the region for the DMK, and he was given a Lok Sabha ticket in 2009 for Madurai, a seat that he won. After this, his father got him a Cabinet berth in the UPA Government, of which the DMK was a part. Sending him to the Centre as India’s minister of chemicals and fertilisers, Karunanidhi calculated, would keep the brothers out of each other’s hair.

Alagiri had to resign his post in 2012, after the DMK’s falling out with the UPA 21 April 2014

the times of india group

sandwiched M Karunanidhi with his sons MK Alagiri (left) and MK Stalin, whose sibling rivalry has blown into a crisis the leader is not entirely blameless for

over the 2G spectrum scam, which had resulted in the jailing of the DMK’s former telecom minister A Raja as well as the patriarch’s own daughter Kanimozhi. The DMK snapped ties with the UPA, but Alagiri was opposed to this decision and was reluctant to quit. And after Jayalalithaa’s return as CM, he has been under pressure even in his home state. As if his family problems are not enough, the AIADMK government has been trying to implicate his son Durai Dayanidhi in a granite scandal. Many of his supporters have abandoned him to join Stalin’s side.

Alagiri is smarting under the blows and waiting to strike back. While his proximate target may be Stalin, observers sense it would be Karunanidhi he may want to get even with.

The patriarch appears bewildered to find himself watching a crime thriller that people say was scripted by none other than him. In many ways, this is worse than the sense of shame he suffered when his handpicked minister A Raja—whom he’d defended doggedly in ‘good faith’—was asked to step down on 14 November 2010 following the 2G 21 April 2014

spectrum scam (and later jailed), or the agony he endured when his daughter Kanimozhi was also locked up in Tihar Jail. He had rarely felt so utterly helpless.

Now, in the autumn of his life, Karunanidhi worries about the party’s image and his own loss of face in front of party cadres whom he addresses as ‘En uyirukkum uyiraana udanpirappukale (My brethren, who are dearer to me than life itself)’ in speeches and letters that appear in Murasoli.

But even his detractors, many of whom grudgingly admire his still-sharp brain and ready wit, admit that he remains the

The patriarch appears bewildered to find himself watching a crime thriller that people say was scripted by none other than him

party’s undisputed leader. What he attracts criticism for is the feudal ways he has adopted—in spite of being the offspring of a rationalist movement himself. His frequent claims that the DMK is ‘a family’, that every member is ‘born of the same womb’ and is the ‘blood of its blood’, have long stood him in good stead with party members. Now he wants them to share responsibility for this family’s honour and prestige. To make sacrifices for it, if need be. They know of his sacrifices. Didn’t he as a mere lad of 13 slit his hand and write ‘Tamizh vaazhga’ (long live Tamil) with blood on a wall?

And did he not lie on a railway track ready to die during an anti-Hindi agitation in protest against a non-Tamil name at Dalmiapuram station? They know how he refused to skip an important party meeting even while his first wife lay on her deathbed. By the time he returned, she had passed away. This kind of loyalty to the party was the highest goal for party workers to aspire for. Loyalty to the party, of course, is loyalty to the leader.

All the political machinations of the patriarch have been taken to be in the inopen www.openthemagazine.com 35

afp

the scriptwriter’s projection A woman walks past wall paintings in Chennai that depict ‘Thalaivar’ Karunanidhi as a caring family man

terests of the party. Even his 1970s attempt to launch the cinema career of MK Muthu, his son from his first marriage, was seen as an attempt to stop the MGR juggernaut. Muthu was a poor actor, and proved no match for MGR, who enjoyed demi-god status on and off the screen.

What matters is that cadres know how hard he tried to contain the AIADMK formed by MGR. When Indira Gandhi declared the Emergency in 1975, wasn’t Karunanidhi the first man to openly protest against its imposition? But Gandhi dismissed his government under Article 356. He did not imagine that this dismissal would leave him in political limbo for 13 years. When elections were declared, it was MGR who came to power.

Throughout those years of MGR’s supremacy, he spent his time devising strategies to destroy his rival who seemed indestructible until his death.

That grand rivalry is long dead and gone, but MGR’s protégé Jayalalithaa has audaciously taken over the AIADMK’s mantle, posing a threat to the future of his party and younger son’s political career. Back in power, she has been taunting Karunanidhi with statements to the 36 open

effect that she needn’t destroy the DMK since his son is already on the job.

K

arunanidhi is confident of his par-

ty’s prospects. The DMK, he knows, is firmly with him. Its cadres retain their faith in his leadership. They do not see him as an autocrat, preferring to hail him as a ‘custodian of social justice’ for his efforts to ensure 69 per cent reservation for Backward Classes. They are impressed that he goes by the norms of inner democracy on matters of party discipline.

The thalaivar, they say in appreciation, did not spare his own son.

Their leader is back on the road, meeting voters and canvassing support. He has been in politics for nearly 70 years now, and 2014 marks his 57th year as the DMK’s star campaigner. The crowd is moved to see the old man clutch a microphone. It goes into raptures as this onetime Hindi-baiter recites—in a constituency that has a fair sprinkling of Urdu-speaking Muslim voters—an old ditty in Hindi, Hindu Muslim Sikh Isai, aapas mein bhai bhai, to drive home a secular message of brotherhood.

The cadres do not mind if he often appears confused at times: one day calling Modi of the BJP a friend, or declaring grandly that he’s willing to forgive and support the Congress after the polls if it expresses regret for the wrongs it did unto an ally, and the next chastising the UPA for its abstention on a United Nations resolution against Sri Lanka. There must be a design behind each of his statements.

He appears tired of posturing. But electoral politics has never been more troublesome for him. His own folly, he feels, has landed the party in a tangle, one that’s getting tugged into a tight knot by a sibling rivalry. A fresh script needs to be written, a dramatic finale that will bring down the curtains with the word ‘shubham’. All is well.

Time, however, is running out. His heart heavy with a sense of foreboding and remorse, he must act fast to fix things while he can. n A bilingual journalist and author, Vaasanthi has written extensively on Tamil political culture. She is the author of Cut Outs, Caste and Cine Stars: The World of Tamil Politics 21 April 2014

NOTES FOR THE NEW ORDER Ajit Ranade

A Glass of Milk and Plenty of Water An economist lists five priorities for the next government

J

oan Robinson, who taught Prime Minister Manmohan

Singh at Cambridge in the 1950s, famously said, “Whatever you can rightly say about India, the opposite is also true.” Seven decades later, this statement is still in vogue.

And especially during the cacophonous national election season, the claims and counterclaims about India’s economy are getting very shrill. For every positive report card of the economy put forth by the ruling UPA coalition, the opposing NDA produces convincing evidence to the contrary. As a non-partisan observer, you cannot even say that the truth lies somewhere in the middle, because the true picture is strewn all over. It’s nobody’s case that the economy is in the pink of health. But it also cannot be denied that its health indicators are not disastrous.

The international credit rating agency Standard & Poor’s gives India an investment grade of BBB-minus. This puts India on par with Spain, slightly below Russia, and far above Indonesia, Turkey or Argentina. Even Brazil, India’s colleague in the BRIC club, got a rating downgrade from S&P earlier this month. The stock market in Mumbai is flirting with all-time high indices.

The NDA camp claims that this is in anticipation of the election results. But the stock rally is also driven by global dollars rushing into India due to its relative attractiveness. Brazil has had a downgrade, Russia is untouchable in the wake of Ukraine, and China raises doubts due to corporate bond defaults and its out-of-control shadow banking. So India, with brighter growth prospects, higher interest rates and a strengthening currency bias, is the emerging world’s prime candidate for foreign investment in search of higher and safer returns.

Even if you step back from the immediate flux of the stock market and currency, the past ten years have some bright spots.

Poverty reduction between 2004 and 2011 was the fastest it has ever been in any comparable period in the country’s history. We achieved three consecutive years of 9-plus per cent GDP growth.

Installed electricity generation capacity has doubled. Inward

foreign direct investment averaged about 1.5 per cent of GDP every year. Agricultural growth over the decade was higher than earlier decadal averages. Rural wages went up substantially. But then, this data has to be contraposed with several other indicators which show deteriorating conditions. Inflation has been persistently high for more than five years, a record unmatched in recent history. Food inflation in particular has remained in double digits for far too long, especially of protein items like milk, meat and eggs. In the last few years, industrial growth has been rather tepid, with the manufacturing sector at zero growth for more than two years in a row. Private sector investment, which used to grow at 10-15 per cent every year, has collapsed. Fixed capital formation, which represents investment in future capacity, has almost dropped to zero.

Constrained capacity means supply bottlenecks that aggravate India’s inflation problem. Most shockingly, the economy is not generating jobs. Job creation in the industrial or services sector is woefully short of what’s needed by India’s young demography. Even more puzzling is that job shortages have coexisted with worker shortages, especially in sectors like textiles, construction, seasonal harvesting and other semi-skilled vocations. The much celebrated National Rural Employment Guarantee is blamed for industrial worker shortages.

In a nationwide survey conducted from last December to this February by the Association for Democratic Reforms and Daksh, the topmost priority on the minds of voters was jobs.

This corroborates an earlier finding of the National Sample Survey. In response to an NSS query, 40 per cent of rural respondents said that they would gladly leave the farm sector, if only they could get a job elsewhere. No wonder that the narrative of job creation is prominent in party manifestos.

Against this backdrop of mixed signals, certain national priorities stand out. The current mood is more negative than what the economy data suggests. The job of policymakers and polit-

Alex Masi/Corbis

ical leaders is as much mood management as delivering on promises of jobs and investment. In managing the economic mood, communicating clearly and frequently is an essential requirement of those in charge of running the economy.

Here are five priorities for a new government. These have already found place in the manifestos of both the NDA and UPA, but the emphasis is unequal. The following five points are not categorised as short or long term. These are achievable within relatively short political time horizons. So one need not resign oneself to Keynes’ dictum that in the long run we are all dead!

A GLASS OF MILK

The outgoing parliament passed the Food Security Bill with support from all political parties. The bill was much discussed, and was reportedly opposed at first by both the Finance and

Food ministers in the Union Cabinet. But despite internal differences, the Cabinet passed it and Parliament was happy to bless it. It provides highly subsidised wheat and rice to more than two-thirds of India’s rural and half of its urban population.

It makes the availability of cheap foodgrains from ration shops a justiciable right. Of course, implementing the FSB will be a big priority for the new government. This has to be done ensuring fiscal soundness and minimising leakage. This is not the place to discuss an FSB implementation plan. But rather, to point to another angle of food security. India’s rank on malnutrition among children is lower than that of neighbours like Bangladesh and Nepal, and also many sub-Saharan African countries. More than 40 per cent of the world’s malnourished kids are in India alone. This is despite the fact that India runs the world’s largest midday meal scheme, covering over 100

million school kids. The one intervention that can substantially affect nutrition outcomes for kids is a glass of milk at school in the morning. If you examine NSS data sliced by income classes, the consumption of milk is shockingly skewed between the poor and the rich. It is not so for pulses. India has had a milk revolution and is presently the world’s largest producer. Surely, a glass of milk for every kid is an achievable target for ensuring greater food security in the country. This may go a long way in achieving better school attendance and health outcomes. By the way, the hot midday meal comes at noon time, but the breakfast meal of a glass of milk may be equally crucial for the kid.

A MILLION COMPANIES

As has been mentioned earlier, the youth crave decently paying and stable jobs. More than 12 million youth seeking jobs will enter the labour force every year for the next ten years. If they lack skills, then we will have the spectre of simultaneous job and worker shortages. An important point is that to generate 12 million jobs, the Government must ensure the creation of about 1 million enterprises annually. It is not that large public sector companies (or the railways or armed forces) are going to absorb the demographic surge. Most youth will want to be self employed. So job creation is as much about creating conditions for businesses to thrive. Globally, India is ranked 134th of 183 countries on ease-of-doing-business. This rank, computed by the World Bank, uses ten components. India fares okay on eight of these. But the two where India fares very poorly are the enforcement of contracts and securing construction permits. So job creation will happen only when business creation (and closure) is well enabled. The Licence Raj was done away with in 1991, but has been replaced by an inspector raj, a harassment raj and a paperwork raj. The experience of small and medium enterprises does not inspire newcomers to become entrepreneurs.

THINK SMALL, THINK MEDIUM

Half of India’s industrial output, industrial employment and exports are contributed by small and medium enterprises (SMEs). But these do not get even 5 per cent of bank credit. They often lead a hand-to-mouth existence, with narrow profit margins (thanks to competition from China). They depend on the mercy and goodwill of large corporations that are their customers and dictate their value chain. But SMEs face hardship in accessing credit, capital, markets, skilled and semi-skilled workers, and also from regulatory agencies (see ‘inspector raj’ above).

They also face uneven electricity supply, and are ill prepared for the large risks of currency fluctuations and cheap Chinese imports. With a 5-per cent profit margin, a 10-per cent currency swing (say, from 66 to 60 to the dollar) can wipe them out. The SME sector must become a focus for policy experimentation and bold reforms. Let millions of SMEs bloom, and let not some black sheep become the lightning rod that attracts harsh regulation and affects the entire sector. SMEs form the backbone of industrially advanced countries like Germany and Switzerland, so there are plenty of working models to borrow from.

THE BIG THIRST

India faces a water crisis. It is often said that India has 18 per cent of the world’s population but only 2 per cent of fresh water sup40 open

plies. The water crisis is manifest not just in agriculture, where ground water tables have sunk to unimaginable depths, but also in the industrial and residential sectors. Water is a crucial ingredient in chemical process industries as well as steel mills and coal washeries. What is not so well known is that India’s per capita availability of fresh water is the same as Germany’s, which is about 1,880 cubic metres per annum. Needless to say, Germany is not a country with a water crisis. So much of India’s water crisis is man-made, and can be unmade by better policies, management, practices and technology. The compulsory recycling and re-use of industrial and urban water should be top priority. The stoppage of water and soil runoffs is essential for agriculture. Modification of cropping patterns, and minimising water guzzling crops and their export, would be part of that strategy. The interlinking of rivers is a mega-scale solution that has uncertain environmental consequences. Hence it can wait until smaller scale measures are in place.

THE FARM NETWORK

Agriculture contributes only 14 per cent to India’s GDP but still employs almost half the labour force. Little wonder that people are ready to leave their farms (recall the NSS survey mentioned earlier). The entire adjacent sector of agro processing is ill-developed in India. That may be due to infrastructure problems (cold storage chains, roads, market linkages to organised retail, food processing parks). The country’s debate on FDIin-retail has obfuscated some real issues that need tackling. The gap between farm and fork prices is huge, and represents large inefficiencies. The national highway programme resulted in Bengal potatoes reaching farther corners of the country, just as eggs too travel far and wide now. This is an example of infrastructure development directly impinging on higher agricultural incomes. Rising incomes have changed consumption patterns, increasing demand for milk, meat and poultry.

That, in turn, causes foodgrain demand to increase disproportionately, since it is also required for cattlefeed. India has had an exceptional decade of agricultural growth, and yet food prices have risen incessantly. So it is imperative to increase productivity in agriculture, ensure that it gets a higher share of the end consumer’s wallet, and push reforms that strengthen farm-to-consumer linkages. The Swaminathan Report of October 2006 is a good starting point. Channelling credit to food producing cooperatives (or companies) is an idea whose time has come. Maybe an exclusive NABARD-style bank focused on food producers?

These five listed priority areas are not exhaustive. Even a list of top ten priorities cannot do India justice. The manifestos of major political parties tend to converge on such themes as jobs, development, governance and anti-corruption. This means that a national consensus has evolved. The 16th Lok Sabha should then commence with all parties signing on to this common minimum economic agenda. We can then proceed to a glass that’s more than half full. Until then, it’s Joan Robinson’s India. n Ajit Ranade is a Mumbai-based economist. He is the chief economist of a leading Indian conglomerate and has had a prior career in research and teaching in India and the United States 21 april 2014

Love and Longing on WeChat How a generation is using messaging apps to score dates and, if lucky, hookups Lhendup G Bhutia

0

n a dark wintry evening in

Gangtok, a cell phone screen flickers to life. “Oh,” says a young man in genuine surprise, the eagerness on his face lit up by the flickering screen, “it’s her, it’s her.” The ‘her’ is someone he met via the popular mobile messaging app WeChat. And after several days of wooing her and incessant pleas for a dinner date, which she had so far politely declined, the woman has for the first time initiated a conversation.

‘Willing to meet,’ she says.

By which point, the recipient is overcome with an adolescent excitement. His face is now glued to his phone and his thumbs tap at a frantic pace. ‘Tomorrow?

How about tomorrow? Does that work?’

‘Why not.’

‘Dinner? Or what about lunch?’

‘Let’s try coffee. Will see if you are worth dinner or lunch.’

As appearances go, the young man has never had anything but her display picture to go by. Her dark straight hair, he can see, runs over and covers much of her face, except her eyes, which are outlined with kohl. He is sure she is pretty.

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illustration Anirban Ghosh

21 april 2014

Their conversation lasts late into the night, flitting from careless banter to romantic innuendo. But as the night progresses, the young man takes on simultaneous chats with several other women.

Many of them, he has never met, while some have materialised as live dates in the past. Some do not even reply to his messages. “There’s no harm in playing the field. I’m sure I’m not the only guy she is chatting with either,” he says, referring to the girl he is scheduled to meet the next day over coffee.

WeChat, which was founded and known as Wixìn in China, is one of many mobile applications that enable strangers to connect with one another.

Ostensibly, it’s a ‘messaging service’ by which friends can chat and share pictures, music files and video clips, somewhat like WhatsApp. What WeChat offers additionally is its ‘Lookaround’ feature, which turns it into a locationbased app, allowing strangers within a two-kilometre radius to pinpoint each other and get talking. All in all, the app comes in handy for those looking to score dates, and sometimes, when the dating gods are favourable, hookups.

There are other location-based apps too, like Tinder and Blendr, which are less subtle and work with the stated aim of hooking people up—often anonymously, with a lot of users letting only their nicknames and dummy photos appear on the app’s display panel.

In Gangtok, where nights set in early and youngsters have few options to socialise beyond family settings compared to other Indian cities, WeChat has become something of a rage. The young man who has got himself a coffee date is a former engineer who moved from Bangalore to Gangtok about two years ago, and started using the app around a year back. So far, he says, he has been on 21 april 2014

a number of dates, some of which have led to sexual encounters. But he has not been able to convert any of them into what he claims he’s really after—a meaningful relationship. “When I reflect on what I am doing, which is essentially scouring the app for women to hit on, I feel like shit,” he confesses, “But then all of these women are here also, right, and [presumably] for the same thing?”

As it turns out, he is not alone.

According to Rakshit Tandon, a cyber security expert who keeps track of online trends and conducts cyber awareness programmes in schools, almost everyone is using messenger apps. Early teens, young adults, older folk, everyone.

“Initially, I thought this was just a passing fad,” says Tandon, “But it has really become very popular. And many of the users, especially the young, use [these apps] to flirt with one another.”

Some have explanations based on social trends, like this young man who lived in Delhi and Mumbai for three years before shifting to Bangalore to work with an MNC; he ascribes the popularity of these apps to the loneliness of life in India’s big cities. He offers himself as an example: “After work, when I return to an empty house, there is nothing to do but sit in front of the TV and chat with strangers. I have no one else to talk to. And when I sign in, I find others like me.” He says he has met strangers on WeChat and Blendr and gone on a few dates with a few he found pleasant.

Whenever he starts a chat, he asks the woman at the other end to send him either a voice message or photograph to confirm she is indeed a woman (and not a male prankster).

A few months ago, he slept with a woman he met on WeChat. “But these encounters are meaningless. However eloquent we are on chat, when we meet, open www.openthemagazine.com 43

sometimes there is nothing to say.

Sometimes you meet and you think you had a great time, but you never hear from that individual again. There is something artificial about it all.” He also says he is trying to reduce the time he spends on these apps, but just can’t let go.

F

or research, I signed up on WeChat, Tinder and Blendr. The first of these has something of a 1990s internet chat room feel about it. On the cellphone, though, it is more immediate and pervasive. And its location-centricity, which implies the possibility of an inthe-flesh meeting and possible hookup, tends to give conversations a charge of sorts. Apart from Lookaround, there are two other features that let you cosy up with strangers. ‘Shake’, often described as a ‘booty call feature’, is one of these. To indicate you want new people to meet, you shake your phone; each time you do this, you get a list of every other phone shaken anywhere close at the same time.

‘Drift Bottle’ grants you access to ‘bottles’ with messages that have been cast away by people from anywhere on the globe, and you can start chatting with them. Of course, you may also want to set afloat a bottle with a message of your own that could wash up on someone’s phone who finds it interesting enough to get in touch. I met a number of people this way, a lonely Chinese tutor in Singapore going through a difficult marriage, a 14-year-old girl in Kolkata, and a schoolboy in Jaipur. They share intimate details of their lives, and send pictures and messages. They keep asking if I am around long after I quit replying.

Tinder displays photographs of people of the opposite sex within your striking distance. You can either slide them to the left of your screen, popping them into the bin, or to the right into a heart-shaped box of picks. If one of the women in this box also happens to approve of you, Tinder puts you in touch rightaway. No 44 open

less blatant in purpose is Blendr, which lists everyone within a range who may be of interest to you along with their pictures and self-descriptions. You can chat, go through pictures, ‘like’ or leave a comment on any of the profiles. And every small action, even a visit to a page, sets off an email to the other individual, asking both parties to ‘break the ice’.

Rajat Rao, a young entrepreneur in Bangalore, says, “Two years ago, when I was in college, I needed people to introduce me to women. But that age is crumbling away. Now technology can do that for you.” In January this year, Rao along with some friends launched an Indian dating app, Krush. Every evening, a user of this app gets a list of ten names picked up from the user’s Facebook friends’ and

Last year, cyber security expert Rakshit Tandon had to counsel a schoolgirl who had sent topless pictures of herself to her boyfriend via Viber. The boy had forwarded these to his friends friends of friends’ lists, along with their photographs and interests, with a compatibility quotient to go with each. All this hard work is done by algorithms that sift through data—job, location, interests, likes, etcetera—provided by those on Facebook. If two individuals pick each other from the selections on offer, Krush introduces one to the other.

According to Rao, Krush has been downloaded around 20,000 times on Android phones and made around 450

matches over the past couple of months.

A similar iPhone app is under development right now. “There is a big cultural shift underway in India, especially in the metros,” says Rao. “People get into serious and casual relationships all the time.” To ensure that women in particular feel safe using the app, Krush is designed to ensure that every list they are on—and even those they are presented with—have some people with whom they share mutual friends.

A

ccording to a 29-year-old wom-

an who lives in Delhi and is wary of chatting with strangers on WeChat, the problem is the obscenity she risks encountering online. But she is unsure of her commitment to her boyfriend, with whom she has been living for the past three years, and wouldn’t mind meeting someone new. She has met a few men via such apps, one of whom she has begun to meet frequently offline. “When I first started chatting with him, I found him patient and interested in listening to me,” she says. “We started sharing our stories and issues with each other.

Gradually our relationship grew. Neither of us expects anything from this relationship. We know that we will one day stop chatting and go back to our lives.”

Tandon, however, worries about these apps. Last year, he had to counsel a 14-year-old schoolgirl who had sent topless pictures of herself to her boyfriend in school via Viber, another app. The boy had forwarded these to his friends.

“When I asked her why she had done it, she told me, ‘He had been asking for it for days. And I didn’t realise he would forward them.’”

As for the man excited about his coffee date, he says it turned out well: they laughed a lot, went for a stroll in the city, and before parting, they made plans to catch up again. Since then, she has not responded to any of his fresh messages. It has been several days. n 21 april 2014

photography

mindspace Band Baaja since the Raj

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O p e n s pa c e

Sanjay Leela Bhansali Alia Bhatt Arjun Kapoor

62

n p lu

Main Tera Hero Captain America: The Winter Soldier

61 Cinema reviews

TAG Heuer Carrera Calibre 5 Automatic Nikon D3300 Asus PQ 321QE

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Tech & style

Expressions and evolution Most accurate clock Morning rays for weight loss

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Science

Filmmaker Paul Cox on Indian cities and life after near-death

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cinema

Heard the one about SRK’s son?

54

roug h cu t

Yet another India book by a foreign correspondent

books

The life and art of S Paul

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s paul

lofty vantage The life and art of legendary S Paul, the doyen of Indian photojournalism 46

photography

The Sage At the age of 84, S Paul, the man who shaped Indian photojournalism, still takes his camera out for a daily shoot Ritesh Uttamchandani

I

first met S Paul in the darkroom of the Indian Express

photo department. We were emptying drawers of film to make space for CDs. It was 2004. An undated photograph by him slipped out of the pages of a faded copy of Edward Steichen’s curatorial masterpiece Family of Man. The photo, a newspaper clipping, showed children playing on a tree. Paul had climbed the tree and shot the children from its highest branch, inducing an illusion of their being afloat in space.

Our paths crossed again when I was coordinating entries for a Press Photo Contest. In the chalk white, tube-lit interiors of the Press Club in Bombay, I stared for a long time at his only entry: a black-and-white print of a woman carrying her baby in a basket on her head.

When I asked around about him, I got a few standard replies—‘Oh, S Paul? He’s a genius’, ‘He’s a wizard’, ‘He’s a master craftsman’, ‘He’s Raghu Rai’s elder brother’, ‘He’s a recluse’, ‘He’s actually way better than all of us put together’.

Okay, has he done any books I can see? Nope. Any exhibitions? Nope. Does he teach somewhere? No idea. Have you seen any of his images? A handful, at best.

If he’s so good then why is so little known about him or his images? At the age of 84, Paul sahab, as he is called, is not only actively shooting every day but also winning contests by the dozen in almost every genre one can think of, from fashion to street life to birds.

A phone call led me to his eldest son Neeraj, who was not sure if his father would agree to be interviewed but asked me to send him my portfolio of photographs and writing. A few weeks later, Paul agreed to an interview.

When I arrived in Ghaziabad, where he lives, he was out shooting, giving me another day to gather information about him. A photographer at Hindustan Times told me he once saw Paul sahab shooting at the zoo. Another said he is the humblest man you could ever meet. A third asked innocently, “If S Paul and Raghu Rai are brothers, how are their surnames so different?”

It’s 9.30 am. I’m waiting for him on the first floor of his two storey house in a white room, with purple and grey striped sofas and four photos on the wall. It’s easy to spot the two that are his; I’ve seen one on his Facebook page and the other a few years ago at the India Art Fair. The other two are by his

The wandering lens S Paul pauses to take in the wide expanse of a tree in a garden in Delhi’s Surya Nagar 21 april 2014

younger son Dheeraj.

From behind a sliding door he emerges, six feet tall, slender yet broad shouldered, with a camera slung on his left, and a copy of Open. He opens it to a picture I made. He likes it but feels it’s a bit underexposed and could have been better. He’s wearing a yellow Adidas sweater, grey trousers and black canvas loafers. He makes me shift into a chair facing the window, into the light, so he can see me clearly when he speaks. He then tells me the story of how he taught himself photography in a single day.

In the spring of 1951 in Shimla, while he was in his early twenties, disillusioned, bored working as a draftsman with the Indian Government’s Central Power and Water Commission, he wondered what to do next. Directionless, he wandered outside and within. He remembered his long walks to school, during which he longed to take pictures with a camera. On 1 March of the same year, Paul bought a Carl Zeiss Nettar for Rs 275, a tripod for Rs 15, and a roll of Kodak 125 ASA film for a rupee and 14 annas. He purchased what he calls the “best book ever” on photography, The All-in-One Camera Book by WD Emanuel. At 11 pm, he made himself a cup of Nescafe and began his conversation with the book. At dawn, in the absence of a subject, he set the Nettar on a tripod, placed himself at distance of six feet, evaluated the exposure, and made his first ever set of images: 12 self portraits.

He later went to a photo studio, gave the roll for processing and waited. This was a time when exposure meters and auto focus didn’t exist, and photographers spent sleepless nights until the results came in. The store manager, Chander Prakash, gave him a puzzled look and asked, “Since when are you a photographer?”

Paul replied, “Since last night. Why?” Prakash handed over the prints to him and said, “Your photos are perfect.”

Paul found solace in his newfound religion. His camera was an added limb, never out of his reach. He made pictures of his colleagues, his surroundings, his long walks along the snow-clad pathways of Shimla, of schoolchildren, of clouds, of trees, of mountains. He shot everything in sight.

In 1952, while walking around the ridge, Paul noticed a rare and poignant juxtaposition, a metaphor for the social dynamics of the new republic. Seated on the left end of a park bench was a distinguished-looking suited and hatted member of the British Raj, his right hand supporting his aged open www.openthemagazine.com 47

chin, his eyes firmly locked into the distance. On the right side was a mustachioed old man, almost the same age as the White man, dressed in a white kurta-pajama, his head in a turban, feet encased in mojris, wearing a shawl around his nervous frame—his eyes, too, locked in the same direction as the other’s. Paul never made a print of this photograph; it was never shown to the public until he participated in a group show titled The Middle Age Spread in 2005. Paul says there are several such photos from his early days that he is yet to print, filed away neatly in his cupboards and his memory.

hating the idea of returning to the job, worried about his future because he had no new job in hand, the procrastination finally catching up with him, Paul began to panic. That very day, he received a telegram from Harry Miller, editor of The Indian Express, asking him if he’d like to join the paper as its chief photographer in Delhi—a job he would go on to hold for the next 26 years.

“When I took over the reins at The Indian Express,” Paul says, “I ended up in direct conflict with a stringer named Amar Nath, who used to provide pictures of ribbon cutting and lamp lighting events by politicians to the paper. It was either those kinds of photos or a pictorial sunrise over some aul was born in Jhang Maghiana, now in Pakistan, on hills or a sunset by the sea that constituted newspaper pho19 August—World Photography Day. A few days before tography. I hated that stagnant imagery and was dead set his 16th birthday, two nations were created, and on the adagainst it. I began pushing for images that fell in the genre of vice of their washerwoman, the Chowdhrys decided to cross street photography.” Paul promoted images of the daily lives an imaginary line in search of a new home. On the way, Paul of people and their interaction with their living and working saw policemen slamming their lathis on women’s wrists to spaces—what we now call ‘offbeat’, a ‘stand-alone’ or a photake away their belongings; he saw villages burning, death to-column; a photo that stands on its own in the paper, with and misery all around. or without a news angle, offering a pause to the reader.

After Partition, Paul’s father found a Amar Nath quit after two years, job with the irrigation department in leaving behind his darkroom asJalandhar, while Paul followed his elsistant, 20-year-old Bhavan Singh, dest brother B Pal Chowdhry who had whom Paul meticulously tutored Paul’s self-worth is legendary. found employment as an assistant suby taking him on his long and While photographing former perintendent in Shimla. seemingly endless photo walks.

Prime Minister Morarji Desai, As a child, Paul was extremeBhavan was soon promoted to phoPaul requested him to move ly shy and it prompted his grandfatographer. RN Chopra joined a few into the light. The PM refused ther to name him ‘Sharampal’—the months later. and told him to shoot him where shy one. Years later, when Sharampal Their immediate competiChowdhry wanted to send his phototor was the Hindustan Times phohe was and not to waste film. graphs for consideration to Miniature to department, headed by Kishor Paul packed up and left. When Camera World magazine, he altered his Parekh. Parekh, who studied jourquestioned by his editors, he name to S Pal. For his second contribunalism in the US, had entered the said, “The PM said I am wasting tion he added a ‘u’, rechristening himprofession a year before Paul and film, so I didn’t waste any!” self S Paul. Why? “Woh tabhi masti mein had already established a reputasocha, thoda foreign type dikhta hai, toh tion as a fine photojournalist. It kyun nahin (I’d thought in jest that it was Parekh who first insisted on sounded a little foreign, so why not)”. providing a byline to photographs.

Within a year of befriending the camera, Paul was invitPaul followed suit. Parekh and Paul held each other in high ed by MM Chrishna, development commissioner with the regard and were great friends off duty. Once, Parekh invited Himachal Pradesh government, to set up a photo departPaul and his younger brother Raghunath (Raghu Rai) to his ment to document government activities. In 1952, on a home and served them whisky and beer cocktails. After a Friday of a month he can’t recall, he showed up at their office, few drinks, Paul vomited. Parekh took him to a hospital armed with his portfolio—stacks of international magazines opposite his house. In the morning, Parekh and Raghu went in which his images had been published. The job was his in a to visit Paul. On entering, Parekh asked Paul, “Kyun ladka hua matter of seconds. ya ladki? (Is it a girl or a boy?)” They had admitted Paul to a A few years later, Paul was approached by the Northern maternity hospital.

Railway Headquarters to work as a photographer for them.

The two were fierce opponents in the field. Paul once told He reached the interview with all his magazines in tow; it Parekh: “You are a very dear friend and I respect you a lot, so uprooted the confidence of two other photographers that but as far as journalism [is] concerned, every photographer they left without being interviewed. A third remarked: “I is my enemy!” A few years later, Parekh held an exhibition of will wait to congratulate you and go.” Paul remained the his photographs of Jawaharlal Nehru. After waiting for days chief photographer of the Northern Railway Headquarters for ‘Pole’ to show up, Parekh finally called him: “I respect for two years before applying for a month long leave in 1962. only one guy and he hasn’t shown up for my exhibition yet.”

Bored and eager for a bigger challenge, he gave himself a Paul did show up. Months later, he took a photograph of the month to figure out what to do. On the last day of his leave, Prime Minister bathed in dappled light, which prompted

P

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21 april 2014

a study in contrast Paul’s 1952 photograph of two men sitting on a bench in Shimla, shot merely a year into his photographic career

one more call from Parekh: “Pole, your one photo of Nehru killed all my images of him.”

Every assignment Paul did was meticulously planned and executed. He would always reach an hour before any planned news event. Once, the heads of the Commonwealth states were visiting Delhi. Paul went to Vigyan Bhavan a day before and studied the dais, the lights and the arrangements.

The next day, he reached an hour early, took the best spot in the photographer’s pit and waited. When Indira Gandhi took the stage, he fired a few frames and then stood patiently while others around him were figuring out what exposure settings they should shoot. A few in the back rows passed their cameras requesting him to shoot for them. He obliged everyone. “While other newspapers carried a picture of Indira Gandhi lighting a lamp or the heads of state receiving bouquets or a group photo, my photograph stood out most,” Paul says with pride, “All the heads of state lined up with folded hands offering a standing ovation to the Iron Lady as she stepped on to the dais.”

He talks fondly of covering the Pakistan War, when he deserted the convoy of journalists and made his own set of images, which weren’t sieved by the defence department. He remembers hiding in a small cabin at India Gate, waiting for the photojournalist Srinivasan to leave so he could finally 21 april 2014

step up to the ledge and take his memorable photograph of the Republic Day parade.

Paul’s memory is racing ahead now. He speaks about that photograph of children playing on the branches of a tree in a park in Punjabi Bagh. He spotted them and quietly made his way to the top and balanced himself on two branches. An old Sardar out for a walk saw and yelled at him: “Je tu otthe gireya, taan teri haddiyan vi na milniyaan (If you fall, even your bones won’t be found).” A child on the ground looked up and said “bhoot (ghost)!” And through his 20mm lens, Paul captured the universality of a child’s sense of wonder.

Paul’s self-worth, too, is legendary. While photographing former Prime Minister Morarji Desai, Paul requested the PM to move a little to the left into the light. The PM refused and told Paul to shoot him where he is and not to waste more film. Paul packed up and left immediately. When questioned by his editors on the absence of a photograph, he said, “The PM is saying I am wasting film, so I didn’t waste any!”

Paul was not often seen in office, as he used all his spare time shooting for himself. He’d finish assignments and hand over his film to photographers from other papers, requesting them to take it to his office, while he fished out his personal camera and rolled away in his Fiat scouting for images.

“When I used to go shooting,” Paul tells me later, “I used to open www.openthemagazine.com 49

history at an angle Paul’s photograph of AIIMS patients and doctors watching Indira Gandhi’s corpse leave the hospital is a classic example of his tangential approach

carry not only my cameras and extra film but also my lunch, some old newspapers, a camera toolkit and a periscope.”

In his Fiat, purchased for Rs 22,500, Paul used to carry two spare tyres instead of one, a lesson he learnt after he had two flats on his way to Pushkar. His Fiat was smashed to bits by a mob while he was making his unforgettable photograph of patients and doctors standing on the balconies of AIIMS, watching Indira Gandhi’s corpse leave the hospital. The photograph, he says, is well worth the loss. With no visual indicator of death, or the event, the photograph still shows the magnitude of the tragedy through those curious faces.

Once, legendary photographer Raghubir Singh, known for his quirky images of the Ambassador car, called Paul and told him about a foreigner on assignment in India. The man was looking for someone to represent and contribute to Magnum, a photo agency founded by Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa and two of their friends. Raghubir had inside information that Paul was the man they’d like to meet and consider. On a rare evening when Paul entered his office, his colleagues informed him that a firang had called for him in his absence. Instead of reporting to work, Paul recalls, “Uss din na meri gaadi zoo ki taraf nikal padi thhi (that day, my car had just taken off toward the zoo).” Paul didn’t regret missing the opportunity. “I knew that if I joined Magnum, I’d have to travel a lot and I don’t like that.”

The man he missed was George Rodger, who had been impressed by what he’d seen of Paul’s work in the 1967 edition of the British Journal of Photography. He had called to make him an offer. Rodger was one of the founders of Magnum.

The agency would eventually pick Paul’s younger brother Raghunath Rai Chowdhry, better known as Raghu Rai. In 62, when Paul was living by himself in Delhi’s Defence Colony, he went home to meet his parents in Punjabi Bagh.

Raghunath, his younger brother, had come home after concluding his temp job with the Indian Army in Ferozpur.

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Much like Paul a decade ago, Raghu did not know what to do. He asked his elder brother, “Mera kya hoga ab? (What will happen to me now)” Paul asked him to pack and come along.

It was Paul who gave Raghu Rai his name. Most photographers gossip that Paul is jealous of Rai and that bitterness is what keeps him aloof. Paul laughs it off and says, “No matter what people think or say, I am not jealous. Raghu is my student, and his success is my success too as a teacher, as an elder brother. What do they know about me and my equation with Raghu?” I ask him about the best photo book he’s seen in recent times. “Raghu’s book on Bombay,” he responds.

I ask Neeraj a few questions about Paul’s rigour of shooting daily. “See, we tell him he’s got to take it slow, but he doesn’t listen, so now we don’t say anything. Baarish ho, garmi ho, ya Dilli ki thand (whether it’s raining, hot, or Delhi’s cold), nothing bothers him. He frankly makes me feel quite ashamed, because he shoots more regularly than Dheeraj and I.” For Paul, missing a day of shooting is like a singer falling back six days if he misses a single day of riyaaz.

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hrough a sunless lane in West Vinod Nagar, Bhavan Singh’s granddaughter guides me to their home. Bhavan and I are in his windowless first floor workspace, dotted with trophies of his tennis playing granddaughter. Wedged between her trophies is a faded bronze medallion. It’s his World Press Photo prize, which he won for a photograph during the early years of the Bodo conflict in Assam. Just above the racks containing old transparencies hangs a frame aged in dust. I move closer to it; he asks me to wait, and wipes off the dust with his fingers. It’s his photo of a rifle lying unattended on the floor during Diwali at Red Fort, surrounded by rain puddles with two pigeons sitting on its spine stock. A perfect metaphor of war and peace, simple, subtle and evocative.

“This is what I learnt from Paul,” he says, “this looking be21 april 2014

yond the mundane ribbon-cutting and lamp-lighting photos. Before Paul, I was a man working purely for a livelihood; it was he who made us all think beyond the obvious.”

“I remember a picture of Paul’s, a man shaving near the railway tracks in Shimla. His pictures have a unique sensitivity that makes you connect with his subjects in an instant. His timing is impeccable, his technique flawless, but he believes in luck, and luck has always been on his good side. He brought in all these human elements in his pictorial style and merged it with newspaper photography to create his own unique signature which we have all borrowed from heavily over the years.”

Before I went looking for Paul, Akella Srinivas, a Bombaybased photographer tells me nothing remains the same after one has been touched by an S Paul photograph. His vision influences your vision. One starts to see the world around very minutely, you appreciate the beauty of things a lot more than before. Srinivas finds it hard to see a dove the same way he used to before seeing Paul’s version of the bird in flight, all its feathers on display, its wings converging like a namaste, a dancer invoking the gods before a performance.

is bare because they are moving to another workspace soon.

He summons his help to bring in a table. Minutes later, he comes in with a cardboard box and plywood shelf.

Rai is of the view that there are three kinds of photographs.

The first kind is pretty photographs, loaded with colour imbalances, off key saturation and regular visual tropes. The second is when photographers ape global trends and junk their own voice. The third is the most honest, and hence difficult—photography that is guided by one’s soul. “A lot of the work I see today is either pretty or trendy; there’s no soul in any of it.”

According to Paul, he came into photojournalism at a time when “na kuch naya ho raha tha, aur na kisiko kuch naya karne ki chaah thhi (nothing new was happening, nor did anyone have the desire to do something new).” In the company of Paul, the novice Raghu was exposed to an entire gamut of magazines, photographers and camera equipment. He was a full-time assistant to him, processing his film, making contact prints; often, the brothers cooked for each other.

Paul’s friend Yogjoy, a landowner, was heading to Rohtak to check on his property, and on Paul’s insistence, Rai tagged along with him. Paul loaded him a roll on an Agfa Super Select and when Rai was back, Paul reviewed his pictures. he following day, Paul is dressed in a maroon shirt, Rai had no responsibilities at that time, so no liabilities eibeige trousers, and the same black canvas loafers. In his ther. His pictures were laced with this sense of freedom. Paul early days he used to wear a suit to his assignments. It took a sent one of them to The Sunday Times in London to be considwhile for the Raj to leave him. Before we head out, I ask about ered for its weekly photo column. It was published, and the the self portraits he made on the morning of 2 March 1951— money Rai earned from that one photograph lasted him an they were lost forever to termites when he moved to Delhi. entire month. He bought himself more film. Much like Paul, Paul and I are walking through the lanes of Surya Nagar. he too had stumbled and found his religion. Paul jokes that He walks from lane to lane, skirting the side of the road, his he had made a photographer out of an ass; Rai’s photo had eyes moving around like a radar, greeting neighbours with been of a playful little donkey. his camera wedged between his palms as he says “Namaste!”

Gaining confidence, Rai asked Paul if he should try to get He stops to take pictures of a cow. The cow abandons what a job somewhere. Paul wasn’t sure if he was ready but sent she’s doing and looks straight at Paul who commands him across to Parekh who took on Rai—on probation for a her, “Chal tu apna kaam kar na (Come on, just do your own month. In Paul’s words, Raghu had tasted blood and was in thing).” She turns away for a second, then resumes staring at a tearing rush to reach the top but his foundation was still Paul. “Arre, phir wohi baat (Oh, not that again),” he says. She very weak. Some months later, Rai moved out. “I had to chart relents and the standoff ends. my own way,” Rai explains, “plus bhaisaab was getting marPaul loves taking pictures of trees. A few months ago, he ried and he needed his space too.” After almost a year in HT, aimed his lens skyward and isolated two tree tops in his Rai moved to The Statesman, and then Sunday Magazine, and frame; the resulting image gives the finally India Today where he worked impression that the tree on the left with Paul’s old friend Bhavan Singh. is a human face whispering into the “I am a product of two giants,” Rai widespread branches of the other. says, “Paul and Parekh. And when “Today’s photojournalists,” Paul one is between two giants, you eifeels, “have no clue of global ther get crushed or, like me, you trends. They don’t evolve and aghu Rai’s office is on the bounce. I came to realise very early, are stuck in one mould and fourth floor of a darkened beige no one is waiting for you in this prothat’s dangerous. There is barely building in Mehrauli, flanked by fession. Jo bhi hai so ab hai, yaheen hai anyone whose photos have any Sant Nirankari Satsang Bhavan on (Whatever there is, it is now, here).” one side, and cows and a dargah on Paul, in Rai’s view is a very shy, social context to them. The fine the other. Rai is seated on one of two docile person sense of who is concraft of making a photograph maroon office chairs placed on a flattent being in his own comfort zone. that stands the test of time is tened cardboard box. His feet are not His extreme ‘moh’ for his family preabsent. It’s all fast food now; yet inside his electrifyingly shiny vented him from exploring other reironically, a lot like 1962” leather loafers. He tells me the office gions of the country.

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open www.openthemagazine.com 51

During my conversation with Rai, I present to him a thought that has been on my mind since I met Paul. What if the two of you were to reconcile and co-author a book?

‘Delhi: a Portrait by S Paul and Raghu Rai’ or ‘S Paul and Raghu Rai’s India’ or ‘Trees by S Paul and Raghu Rai’. Rai’s chin is resting on his right hand and his gaze is fixed past the Qutub Minar. His attention wanders back to me. He smiles and says, “I have done my best, I have tried very hard to get through to him, but...”

P

aul’s aloofness is usually misunderstood for arro-

gance and his frank opinions are often dismissed as downright rude. He stays away from cliques and is of the opinion that after the arrival of digital cameras, we are no longer photographers, but image-makers.

“Today’s photojournalists,” he feels, “have no clue of global trends. They don’t evolve and are stuck in one mould and that’s dangerous. There is barely anyone whose photos have any social context to them. The fine craft of making a photograph that stands the test of time is absent. It’s all fast food now; ironically, a lot like 1962.”

With a Gurgaon-sized lump in my throat, I ask: “What about cellphone photography and instagram?”

“Disgusting,” he says. “It’s nothing but hellphone photography.”

This sentiment is echoed by Kishor Parekh’s mop-haired son, Swapan. Seated on a bean bag in his yellow-walled studio in Mumbai, Swapan is the only bridge between the masters and the newer lot. He put Paul’s tips to use while covering the Latur earthquake, and a photo shot at high noon, with his flash, got him a World Press Photo prize.

“When exposed to new equipment, Paul sahab is like a beast waiting to tame and devour it,” says Junior Parekh.

Swapan feels that Paul has the luxury of coming out to the world the way he wants. “With the right edit that brings out not just the best, but the greatest of S Paul, he can be perceived and remembered not just as a pictorialist or a landscape photographer or a photojournalist, but as a true modernist. His work has great sanctity. It’s a masterclass in everything that photography stands for and for the future growth of photography; for it to grow beyond its current shoot and delete style, Paul sahab must make the full gamut of his work publicly known.”

I ask Paul about his Facebook page. For an artist who has

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shunned the spotlight for decades, how did he agree to have his work so widely displayed? “Oh, my son Dheeraj did that without my consent. They keep telling me to do a book, or an exhibition and I have not gotten around to doing one yet.

I did my first and only exhibition at Max Mueller Bhavan, Delhi in 1991—the first Indian photographer to be invited to do so, you know!” The exhibition then travelled to three other cities in Germany and his photos were sold at record rates, with visitors requesting reprints by the dozen. He was forced to turn down many people because he couldn’t cope with the pressure. It’s evident that he likes the ‘Likes’ his photos get on Facebook. “It’s nice to be appreciated,” he says, “people share my photos, word gets around and youngsters ask questions, achcha lagta hai (it feels nice)!”

Legend had it Paul has enough work to produce a book a month if he were to dip into his mammoth archive and pick 100 images at random. When will we see that happening? He lets out a hearty laugh: “Aadmi hi khud ka dushman hota hai (A man is his own enemy).” He opens a tiny 2010 Roli Books catalogue to page 37. It lists an untitled retrospective of S Paul, soft cover, 128 pages, to be released sometime in the future. Paul hasn’t gotten around to finalising the 100-odd images yet. He can’t figure out which ones to show from his hundreds of thousands of negatives, prints, transparencies and now, digital images.

In 2004, B&W magazine called Paul the Henri CartierBresson of India, a title he says he probably doesn’t deserve.

He’d be happy just to be known as the S Paul of India. “What HCB did, he did at a time when the odds were mightily stocked up against him. Slow films, bigger cameras, no exposure meters, auto focus or 16 GB memory cards and motor drives like today.” Bresson, according to him, is the most copied photographer of our times, but never equalled.

Paul is perplexed all of a sudden; I ask why. He says all his memory cards are full. “Dheeraj is busy and has no time to download my images, and my assistant has a court case on, so he’s on leave too. But I need to go and shoot tomorrow, too, so I will have to buy new memory cards,” he says. He wishes to travel to Lansdowne. “I have some pictures in my mind that I want to make.”

Paul sahab, one last question before we go: what will happen to all those photos you have shot today? His smile puffs his shrivelled jawline as he looks skywards and says, “Ab aagey, bas, infinity!” n 21 april 2014

Books

Reductive India Another foreign correspondent falls for clichés in his haste to explain a country he has scarcely understood Prayaag akbar

Implosion: India’s Tryst with reality

By John Elliott harpercollins | 400 pages | rs 699

‘First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.’

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here is a subset of humanity that is wont to put up

inspirational quotes on Facebook, impelled, it seems, by their wish to instantly transform the lives of each of the 999 faux-friends they have accumulated. The quote above is a favourite of this group. It speaks of non-violent resistance, of perseverance despite animus, and so, with the internet’s ready logic, it has been attributed to MK Gandhi, or, more frequently, MK Ghandi. That the real Gandhi tended to be loquacious rather than pithy makes the quote rather suspect, and a brief investigation reveals that it is in fact a mangled extract from a 1914 address given in Baltimore by a man named Nicholas Klein, at the Third Biennial Convention of the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America. Slightly less internet-resonant, that.

Yet, the internet’s favoured phrasing does have a certain appeal, and it was this quote that I thought of as I read John Elliot’s new book, dramatically titled Implosion (why eschew the exclamation point this title surely demands?). Elliot, a former Financial Times correspondent, is the latest in a line of foreign writers that have produced big books seeking to make a large and definitive pronouncement on India. This is not to tar all with the same brush: there are some nuanced and relevant accounts that have benefited from being written with an outsider’s perspective. This book is not one of them. India, it seems, has gone past the ‘ignore’ stage, survived the ‘laugh’ stage (what a quaint democracy, filled with film star politicians and illiterates voting and manipulated elections), and is now at Stage Fight. I wonder when we will win. Perhaps, when Mr Modi is vetting all the copy himself.

Too many of these books conform to the headline-cycle, which is inextricably linked to the economic cycle, and the

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first thing John Maynard Keynes taught us was that capitalist economies will have both boom and bust. The problem is that a book takes more time to write than a headline, and inevitably, books of this kind always seem a year or two late.

Certainly Implosion seems a particularly strange title now, when India’s economic indicators are up, and foreign investment is up, and the nation is about to embark on the largest electoral exercise in the world.

How else to explain the confidence with which such strange assertions are made on Page 1: ‘At the heart of this national approach is what is known as jugaad, which means making do and innovating with what is available, and chalta hai, which means ‘anything goes’ and hoping for the best.’

Really? At the heart? I wonder what the 299 members of the Constituent Assembly, which convened for nearly three years under the guidance of one of the finest minds of the twentieth century, BR Ambedkar, would make of that. Forget the past. What would the multiple nodes of governance that now oversee so much in this highly-complex democracy—everyone from the panchayats to RBI—make of that?

It is this kind of infantilising that so aggravates Indian commentators, and leads to debates titled ‘Who Can Write About India?’ The answer to that question is quite simple: anyone can write about India, provided the writer has a point worth making, and bases it on evidence. To ground a lengthy analysis on the idea that jugaad and chalta hai typify our nation’s approach to most matters of importance is unforgivably reductive, and simply inaccurate.

Elliot’s reading of India relies on a suspicion of its difference. It is not an angry suspicion; he seems fond of the culture but unable to process its workings. His unconscious comparison—especially on matters of business and economy, with which this book is chiefly concerned—is always with the West. So, corporate and cultural practice there provides a kind of baseline of what is both normal and desirable.

The deviations he detects in India, of which there are many, are thus malignancies instead of fruitful areas of investigation. This is why he argues that all entrepreneurial production in Dharavi, which he himself reports comprises somewhere between $750 million-$ 1 billion a year, is jugaad, and 21 april 2014

not small-scale production and self-ownership; because it looks very little like industrial activity in the West. Later, he cites a chair manufacturer who sources parts from places like China and Malaysia, and sells a quality chair at half the price. The shop might look unusual to your eyes, the shopkeeper might tell you of his stomach troubles while selling you the chair, but that does not make it jugaad (though Elliot does seem to meet a lot of people—plumbers, executives, academics, jungle camp workers—who pepper their conversations with the term). The chair maker seems to me simply a businessman, one acquainted with intelligent sourcing and cost-competition. Later, Elliot becomes even looser with the concept, using it to describe Dhirubhai and Reliance’s rise, when crony capitalism would be more accurate, or Sonia Gandhi’s back-office political manoeuvring. Crony capital-

petition. Mallya’s travails might make him a convenient example, but by all accounts Mukesh Ambani, Sameer Jain and any number of others on India’s rich list are rather more ascetic than our King of Good Times, and none of them strike one as the bhagwaan-bharose type.

Elliot is right, of course, to point to the malaise that has afflicted the Indian growth story. Political and corporate corruption, cronyism, inequality and illegal plunder besiege us. But surely, if this last West-created global recession has taught us anything, it is that corruption and cronyism exist even in the air-conditioned hallways of Manhattan and the City of London, that it is endemic to capitalism and will spawn in any setting where an unwarranted control over information and access combines with the possibility of profit.

What he fails to demonstrate is why India’s experience with

Elliot’s reading of India relies on a suspicion of its difference. It is not an angry suspicion; he seems fond of the culture but unable to process its workings.

His unconscious comparison— especially on matters of business and economy, with which this book is chiefly concerned—is always with the West daniel berehulak/getty images

ism is to be found everywhere, and power puppetry is certainly not limited to India, but that would detract from the book’s thesis: that India’s cultural and ethical particularities are leading it down a disastrous path.

Or when he writes, for instance, that Indians at every level of enterprise ‘pray for success at work’. He cites the shopkeeper at his local market, who prays each day before entering his shop, a bureaucrat praying at his desk, the extravagant donations of tycoons like Vijay Mallya to Tirupati.

This reliance on the gods, he says, is where India’s chalta hai attitude comes from. What he ignores is that exhortations to God for economic success have been around since man first looked at the sky and asked for a roof and snack. People pray in the West, everyday, for economic success, and at every level of enterprise. What he sees as an essential difference is, instead, an expression of culture: unlike the West, in India religion enters the public sphere repeatedly and dramatically.

Religiosity is a point of pride, and frequently a point of com21 april 2014

deep corruption will prove ultimately fatal—unlike, say, Italy’s—and cannot be addressed by strengthened institutions and our increasing demands for accountability. What he fails to demonstrate is that there will, in fact, be an implosion (every time I type out the title I find myself looking at the sky, like Chicken Little, and wondering when it will fall on my head). Even Elliot’s own conception of a ‘creeping inward collapse’ seems most hyperbolic.

The problem with this book is it fails to come to the heart of the great problems India does face. It is a top-down look at various ailments that too often relies on the kind of prejudices that you hear around Delhi dinner tables. So the Kumbh Mela of 2013 is a shining example of organisational success, because one official was invested with overall administrative powers, and he did not have to kowtow to unseemly politicians. Ignore, I suppose (though the magazine Down to Earth did not), the tremendous long-term environmental damage done (ironically, this year’s edition was called open www.openthemagazine.com 55

the ‘Green Kumbh’), or that, as reported in The Hindu, the problems, but his conclusions do not satisfy. administration used members of a Scheduled Caste, Safai In 1967, Samuel Huntington published Political Order in Karamcharis, to effect a filthy cleaning job, and then prompt- Changing Societies, a book that confirmed his position as the ly washed its hands of the mess as soon as the Mela was star political analyst of America. In it, he looked at how soover, leaving another caste (Nishads) to manually scavenge cieties needed to progressively work towards modernisathrough lakes of putrid waste. tion, with political order as a primary objective—existing deThere’s more. Urbanisation woes? Ignore the skewed deliv- mocratisation theory had enshrined the European or North ery of services to the rich and poor, and assign blame to the American model of social development, twinning the goals most disempowered. You see, ‘Politicians owe primary alleof economic development and political stability, and begiance to slum dwellers… who are content with their semi-le- lieved it replicable throughout the world. Huntington, from gal lifestyle where they pay little or nothing for services.’ Or, the Right, and the American intellectual Left, effectively exlater, when he argues that the reason Dharavi has not been ploded the notion that economic development brought posurrendered to ‘real estate firms’ redevelopment schemes’ litical stability (and perhaps we would all have been spared (oh, joy!) is that they have ‘a vested interest in life as it is’ — some earache if they’d informed Bob Geldof and Bono of their there’s that great Indian indolence again, making its peofindings). One of Huntington’s key arguments was that for ple want to remain forever in illegal slums, as free riders in political order, social mobilisation must not outpace politithe Indian state, when in fact it is the land compensation ofcal institutionalisation—the strength of a nation state’s infers that are pitiful, and that no one offers a method of replistitutions are key; it is not the fact of elections, which are eascating the economies of scale and benefits of geographically- ily perverted, but the scope and effectiveness of the Election concentrated industry that Dharavi provides, Commission (amongst a network of or factors in the cost of moving from the cenother such institutions) that decides tre of the city to the periphery. It is these cruthe fate of a democracy. Quite simply, cial misunderstandings of the experience of whether it will ‘implode’ or not.

It is crucial the poor in India—not Elliot’s own, but imHuntington writes, in 67: ‘India, for misunderstandings bibed through many years of speaking to instance, was typically held to be the of the experience of India’s economic and social elite—that have epitome of the underdeveloped sothe poor in India—not propelled Arvind Kejriwal into the position ciety. Judged by the usual criteria of Elliot’s own, but imbibed he is today. For all his faults, Kejriwal listens modernisation, it was at the bottom to the poor, instead of charting the trajectory of the ladder… yet in terms of politifrom India’s elite—that of their plight from above. cal institutionalisation, India was far have propelled Arvind This is not to suggest that Elliot absolves from backward. A well-developed poKejriwal to the position those in power. He alludes frequently to political system has strong institutions he is in today. For all his litical nexuses, though prefers for the most to perform both the “input” and “outfaults, Kejriwal listens part not to name officials and politicians. put” functions of democracy.’ He then to the poor, instead of His focus on upper-level politics and ecocites the strength of the Indian Civil nomics can be instructive, as in the discusService and the Congress party (of the charting their plight sion on 1991’s Liberalisation reforms, when first two decades of Independence, from above he writes that Montek Singh Ahluwalia has before its top-led institutional debiliconfirmed to him in conversation that he tation), and the slow pace of moderniwas the principal intellectual force behind sation and social mobilisation as key the framework which would be adopted, or of the evening in factors in India’s political stability.

2009 when Manmohan Singh faced a cogent and cutting criElliot writes from the vantage of two-and-a-half decades aftique from some of the most respected economists in India. ter Liberalisation, when modernisation and social mobilisaYet it is these kind of nuggets, surely plentiful to a reporter tion have been in great acceleration, and yes, the Congress is of Elliot’s experience, that in fact demolish his own thesis. no longer the stabilising force it once was. But it is hard to arThey show India to be a functioning, if troubled, democrague, as Elliot seems to be arguing, that our political institucy. That we have public protest at various governmental failtions have become so debile that that will no longer work. ures is not a sign that our democracy is failing: it is quite the If anything, the political churn shows that truly participaopposite, showing that there is an increasing politicisation tive democracy is spreading, that people can find approximaof the populace; that people will not, as was the case for detions of their political aspirations from the choices on offer. cades after Independence, passively accept governmental Ultimately, this book seems a kind of Shantaram of the decree; that civil society—crucial to democratic develnon-fiction world, except it is India’s economic culture that opment in young nations, as Khilnani and Kaviraj estabis eternally charming and problematic and contradictory. Its lished—thrives. Compare this with the violent political people might be lovely and talented, but they are also riddled action that has subsumed so many nations trying to concrewith fatal idiosyncrasy and superstition and a culture of intise democracy in the last half of the twentieth century and dolence. Some will find such an account sufficient. Others you will see what I mean. Elliot has a knack of identifying will not. Perhaps one day Johnny Depp will make a movie. n 56 open

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rough cut

Heard the One about SRK’s Son? Mayank Shekhar

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Gossip and the tragedy of the film journalist

n 2004, some naughty kids from Juhu brought to Mid

Sanjeev Kumar, an already married Dharmendra.

Day’s office a cellphone video—called an MMS back In the 70s, feisty tattler Devyani Chaubal upped the ante then—of young Kareena and Shahid Kapoor playing for gossip in Bollywood, reporting live from bedrooms for tongue hockey, looking lost in love, at a nightclub called her hit fortnightly column in Star & Style. Chaubal, I’m told, Rain. The two were dating and had never made an effort to was herself dating Rajesh Khanna at one point, which says a hide it. Mid Day ran the images and news channels turned lot about the level of access she had. It may not have resultthe video ‘viral’, much before the term had been coined. ed in great reportage, but it certainly generated good trash, Kareena slapped a lawsuit for Rs 10 crore. Much shame is atwith most rumours substantiated by rival filmstars and distached to public displays of affection in India. Love is too gruntled producers. private a matter. We prefer to noisily pray in public instead.

By the late 2000s, a yawning gap had developed between Hauled over coals by a bunch of college kids for working what was now a thoroughly corporatised film world and enfor Mid Day, I asked if they could recall any other story from ergetic new reporters. Publicists had become gatekeepers, that day’s paper, let alone the cover story on pre-electoral doling out banal film journalese—‘break-up’, ‘patch-up’ and factionalism among Bohra Muslims, which took up about other ‘plugs’ for interviews or ‘junta bytes’—generally be90 per cent of the front page. They couldn’t. More often than fore a film’s release. The sheer quantum of film gossip gennot, I told them, we get the journalism we deserve. erated daily made it impossible for stars to establish a strong Despite some phenomenal reportrapport with individual reporters. ing since, the Shahid-Kareena imagThis safe distance is ideal for quality The sheer quantum of film es may well be Mid Day’s most conjournalism. The finest lead story I read gossip generated daily sumed item. It’s not news, and is only in an entertainment supplement this makes it impossible for marginally better than gossip—beweek: John Abraham’s wife will visit stars to establish a strong cause it’s 100 per cent true. him in May! It’s not news. It’s not gosWe’re obsessed with gossip about sip. The story is not even attributed to rapport with filmstars because they look so much Abraham. I’m not sure if editors would individual better than us, and are surrounded by ever similarly mistreat the sports pages. reporters people even hotter than them. Their There isn’t one mainstream Indian sex lives piques our imagination. We publication devoted to films. Fanzines envy them. Peering from billboards, make a spectacle of personal lives, gosfrom giant screens, they reduce us to sip-mongers create alternate versions common folk. They look perennially of PR pap: ‘You know, Shah Rukh’s son happy. It appears they do no work. is actually his grandson.’ ‘Nope. He’s We envy politicians too. In our peractually Karan Johar’s son.’ ‘You know, ception, they exude tremendous powright, that Amitabh Bachchan was once er and make easy money at our exdating Aishwarya Rai.’ pense, while we struggle. But the natter around netas relates An anonymous quote often attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt to kickbacks and corporate deals; nobody really wants to goes: ‘Great minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss know who ND Tiwari is sleeping with. Most Indian politievents, and small minds discuss people.’ Try the former two cians have been dull and unattractive. at a party—you’ll be a bore. But watch how the party graviTelevision is why we prattle about politicians so much tates toward the 25-year-old film journo in the room, looking now. The visual medium inspires a false sense of familiarito discuss celebrities—acquaintances common to all. The ty. We see a face, we feel we know the person. Lately, it’s also sad part is the journo has no gossip, because there is little acturned journalists into celebrities. cess, and nobody wants her to write about films, which was Film gossip has deep roots in India. Millions were privy the reason she joined the profession in the first place. n to the romances of Dev Anand and Suraiya, or Raj Kapoor Mayank Shekhar runs the pop-culture website TheW14.com and Nargis, or Hema Malini’s various suitors—Jeetendra,

21 april 2014

open www.openthemagazine.com 57

CINEMA Film after Life In Thiruvananthapuram to shoot his new film, Paul Cox talks about his ‘near death experience’ and what it has meant to his art akshaya pillai

A

Calcutta apartment in the 1970s. Paperbacks stacked on desks, newspapers strewn on the mosaic floor, and on the kerosene stove, tea for two. Ravens perched on the aluminium rails of either window silently steer their heads in unison, peering into the room, assessing the gora visitor Satyajit Ray had brought back home that evening.

Paul Cox met Ray when he first arrived in India to shoot a short film (Calcutta, 1971) about famine and Naxalism in Calcutta. “I vividly remember the spooky jet-black crows.

Ray’s apartment reminded me of a Hitchcock movie. I trailed him to his movie sets, watched him at work and later [watched] the spotboy carefully cycling away, a tin trunk containing the negatives of the film fastened onto the back seat [of his cycle]. Those were the times when I met many remarkable geniuses like Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen, G Aravindan, John Abraham.”

Cox fondly remembers these men and sketches a verbal caricature for each: “Aravindan, with his Christlike calmness, barely spoke. He sat up straight and stared at you with warmth like this holy ascetic. I was impressed by his silence. Back then he made films within a budget of $15!”

Over the years, Cox has visited India frequently, like a fond relative settled abroad who arrives with a box of Hershey’s every four years. This time, Cox is in Kerala to shoot the bulk of his film Force of Destiny, which tells the story of a sculptor (David Wenham) awaiting a transplant who falls in love with a woman (Shahana Goswami) during what could be the last days of his life.

We are sitting on two cane chairs 58 open

in the courtyard of room No 602 of the Somatheeram Ayurvedic resort in Thiruvananthapuram, on the final day of the shoot.

When asked why he chose coconut palms, the beach and the small city of Thiruvananthapuram as the backdrop for his film, he points to a lamppost five yards away and says: “If I want to get there, I will [have to] get up and walk. It is not necessarily ambition, but more often compulsion.”

In this case, the compulsion was Baby Mathew, the proprietor of this resort, who is co-producing Force of Destiny.

C

ox is an award-winning Australian filmmaker, known for My First Wife, A Woman’s Tale and Innocence. In February 2009, throbbing pain and nausea overtook Cox. Two appointments later, he was diagnosed with cancer of the liver. Lying in bed, gulping down water and pills, he wrote a stream-of-consciousness novel called Tales from the Cancer Ward.

Nine months later, on Christmas eve, a young man’s death saved his life.

But for him, the world is now a place where he wasn’t meant to be.

“Nothing has ever been the same since. I don’t know why it is so emo-

Paul survived liver cancer thanks to a transplant.

But, he says, “Nothing has been the same since.

I don’t know why it is so emotionally impossible to comprehend my existence.

I am here, yet I am not”

tionally impossible to comprehend my existence. I am here, yet I am not.

The sky, the trees, the birds, even your face, it is as though I—”. Words halt midway, blocked by the lump in his throat.

He sips some water and begins to describe a scene from the cancer ward, which he has adapted for this film. “I was on my hospital bed, eavesdropping on a conversation between two nurses. I heard one say to another, ‘Mrs X wants somebody to take out her tubes and attachments because she doesn’t want to look sick in front of her eight-year-old daughter who is going to visit her.’ Later that day, I heard a child weeping and a strong mother reassuring her that she’d be alright and would return home soon.”

“Did she?” I ask.

“A few nights later I heard them wheel her out of her bed, away from the ward, away from everything that exists.”

Childhood turns out to be an equally grim subject. Born in the Netherlands in 1940, in the midst of the Second World War, the first years of Cox’s life were full of death and destruction. He was about five, on his mother’s hip, his hands coiled around her neck, when they left their home to find that the street they lived on was gone.

Bombarded. The rest of his childhood was spent walking through ruins. All he wanted was to flee from his hometown, and at the age of 23, he got onto a boat and left for Melbourne.

“I distinctly remember the calendar that hung behind my toilet door during the short span I was at Melbourne University,” says Cox. “It had a picture of Balinese women dancing with their golden tiered headdresses. Strangely 21 April 2014

SAMPATH BHARATHNUR

veteran While he was hospitalised and being treated for cancer, Cox maintained a correspondence with his long-time friend, the film critic Roger Ebert

enough, my wife, whom I met four years back in the cancer ward, is from Bali. I am 74, and for the first time I am in a proper relationship!”

Temple bells resonate close by.

From a nearby junction, we can faintly hear the speech delivered by a communist frontrunner. “It is lunacy, the same boring faces blown up all over the place,” says Cox. “Look at that temple around the corner; they say it’s 500 years old with nuanced woodwork in the pillars and walls. And they have now plugged on flashing fluorescent lights on the windows [and] walls.

Where is the minister of arts and why doesn’t he condemn it as tasteless? The only thing that remains from a civilisation or a society is its art; everything else crumbles. But still, look at the plight of art in your country.”

That isn’t the only thing Cox ridicules. The hordes of people on a film set suffocate him. “Unless you are shooting one of those high-end American films with bullets and shields, why do you need a hundred people on the set? When I rented out a 21 April 2014

camera, along with it came four guys.

Why? I don’t work with strangers and I think it is unfair to the actors too.”

E

very morning in the cancer ward,

Cox woke up to the murmurs of nurses and the wails of occupants.

His routines included painting, writing, crafting shell-curios and checking his email for a regular dose of correspondence from his long-time friend, the acclaimed film-critic Roger Ebert.

Though miles apart, Ebert and Cox were partners in sickness. They had been diagnosed with cancer almost simultaneously. The former was an optimist, the latter a pessimist.

During the 2012 Ebertfest, Ebert, who had by then lost his voice to thyroid cancer, scribbled on the corner of a notepad: ‘Paul, why don’t you sit next to Seema?’ This is how Cox got introduced to Seema Biswas, the Bandit Queen of Indian Cinema, who plays a key role in Force of Destiny. Two of the surgeons who operated on Cox in real life are also in the film.

Suddenly, as if in a trance, Cox gets up mumbling “near death experience... twenty minutes” and walks into his room. He returns with a copy of his book Tales from a Cancer Ward. He opens to page 196 and hands it over to me. ‘I’m lying between white sheets, attached to several lifelines. People around me are trying to keep me alive, to save me. I know death is nigh, but I feel at ease and smile at the thought that so many have faced this before me.’

As we are about to part, the crew of his film is returning after a swim. I wonder out loud why the director is not out on the beach on a day like this.

“I am not a beach person,” Cox says.

“Then how come you are away from the city, in a beach resort?”

“I am not a city person either. Some people are always homesick and don’t know where home is.”

The sea retreats, the cane chairs are dragged back, and the 74-year-old filmmaker goes back into his room, to page 73 of The Lowland. It takes him back to Naxalism and Calcutta and scenes from a Satyajit Ray film. n open www.openthemagazine.com 59

time Both NIST-F1 and NIST-F2 measure the frequency of a particular transition in the caesium atom, which is 9,192,631,770 vibrations per second and is used to define the international (SI) unit of time

Expressions and Evolution Our squinting or widening of eyes are evolutionary tools to help deal with the environment

Most Accurate Clock

don bayley/e+/getty images

science

W

hen our eyes squirm in dis-

gust or widen in fear, what is the function they serve? How did facial expressions emerge? Did they arise to help us communicate with others, as a form of social communication signal, as is commonly thought, or did they arise as adaptive reactions to environmental stimuli? Charles Darwin believed in the latter, theorising that ‘emotional expressions’ evolved over time among hunter-gatherers to adapt to the environment.

A new study now supports Darwin’s theory, stating that emotional expressions originated as functional adaptations. For the study, which was published in the journal Psychological Science, the researchers focused on two extreme expressions of the eyes: when they narrow, for example, in disgust, and when they widen, for example, in fear.

They found that eyes widen in fear to boost sensitivity and expand the field of vision to locate surrounding danger. When the eyes narrow, they block light to sharpen focus and pinpoint the source of the disgust. The researchers claim that the two reac-

60 open

tions are part of an ‘optical trade-off,’ allowing enhanced visual sensitivity, in the case of fear, or acuity, in the case of disgust. According to the authors, their study shows that facial expressions were a function of survival that maximised how the eyes processed light, and later in social situations it also helped in nonverbal communication. The two methods of visual processing, of narrowing and widening the eyes, thereby provided an advantage in reacting to predators.

The researchers write in the journal, ‘We demonstrated that eye widening enhanced stimulus detection, whereas eye narrowing enhanced discrimination, each at the expense of the other. Opposing expressive actions around the eye may thus reflect origins in an optical principle, shaping visual encoding at its earliest stage—how light is cast onto the retina.’

According to the lead author, Professor Adam Anderson, “These opposing functions of the eye widening and narrowing, which mirror that of pupil dilation and constriction, might be the primitive origins for the expressive capacity of the face.” n

The United States’ National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) has officially launched a new atomic clock, called NIST-F2, to serve as a new US civilian time and frequency standard along with the current NIST-F1. NIST-F2 would neither gain nor lose one second in about 300 million years, making it about three times as accurate as NIST-F1, which has served as the standard since 1999.

Both clocks use a ‘fountain’ of caesium atoms to determine the exact length of a second. According to the International Bureau of Weights and Measures (BIPM), located near Paris, NIST-F2 is now the world’s most accurate time standard. n

Morning Rays for Weight Loss

According to a new study published in PLOS ONE, people who have most of their daily exposure to bright light in the morning have a significantly lower body mass index (BMI) than those who have light exposure later in the day. The influence of morning light on weight is independent of physical activity, caloric intake, sleep timing, age or season. “Light is the most potent agent to synchronise your internal body clock that regulates circadian rhythms, which in turn also regulate energy balance,” says study senior author Phyllis C Zee, MD. “The message is that you should get more bright light between 8 am and noon.” About 20 to 30 minutes of morning light is enough to affect BMI. n 21 april 2014

DX format In digital SLR cameras, the camera’s format refers to the size of its image sensor.

Nikon makes DX-format and FX-format sensors. The DX-format is the smaller sensor at 24x16mm; the larger FX-format sensor measures 36x24mm, which is roughly the equivalent of using 35mm film

tech&style

TAG Heuer Carrera Calibre 5 Automatic A collection for professional drivers and sports car enthusiasts

Nikon D3300 w

Rs 46,950

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Asus PQ321QE

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nspired by the legendary Carrera

Panamericana Mexico Road Race, the world’s most gruelling open-road endurance competition, the Carrera chronograph from TAG Heuer became a style legend for its signature features: an uncluttered design, a dial with a wide opening that ensures maximum readability, and a shock-resistant and waterproof case that can withstand intense road wear.

The first sports chronograph devices specifically designed for professional drivers and sports car enthusiasts, Carrera watches combine modern and classic elements, along with sporty touches.

A tribute to motor racing and modern design, the Carrera has perpetually reinvented itself over the years, as is evident in the following two models.

TAG Heuer Carrera Calibre 5 Automatic; Steel & Rose Gold (18K 5N): loyal to its prestigious herit21 april 2014

age, the TAG Heuer Carrera Calibre 5 Automatic is a subtle re-interpretation of the original Carrera model. This sophisticated watch, with its pure design and harmonious lines, highlights its various facets in a refined manner by cladding its bracelet, bezel and crown in 18-carat rose gold.

The H-shaped bracelet, which has become the signature of the Carrera collection, is a blend of gold and finebrushed steel with polished edges on lateral rows.

TAG Heuer Carrera Calibre 5 Automatic; Steel and Yellow Gold; 39mm: a new classic Carrera, powered by a very accurate Calibre 5 automatic movement, it sports a fully refreshed update of the easy-to-read dial that made the original a trendsetter. The sapphire crystal case-back and polished steel case are unique Carrera design elements, as is the fixed bezel in polished solid gold (18K 3N). n

Rs 235,000

If you love making movies or lust for the cinematic experience a monitor can put out, Asus has just launched its 31.5-inch ultra high definition (4K) monitor for your computer. With a resolution of 3840 x 2160, the monitor supports a pixel density of 140 pixels per inch, features an anti-glare coating with an LED-backlit IGZO display, and delivers crisp, impeccable visuals while keeping energy utilisation in check.

Asus claims that its monitor is the thinnest 4K UHD monitor ever. The monitor has a display port to link it to a PC. Where it does lose out is on its 2 Watt stereo speakers, which need improvement, especially for cinema viewing. The PQ321QE comes with a 3-year warranty, making sure the money you spend on it is secure. n Gagandeep Singh Sapra is The Big Geek at System3. He can be reached at gadgets@openmedianetwork.in

open www.openthemagazine.com 61

CINEMA

David dhawan’s double role Director David Dhawan started his career as a film editor in 1978 and has 31 films to his credit as editor on IMDb. These include the Mahesh Bhatt cult classic Saraansh

Main Tera Hero Varun Dhawan has the comic chops, but the new sidekicks are not as fun as Kader Khan and Co ajit duara

o n scr een

current

Captain America: The Winter Soldier Director Anthony Russo, Joe Russo cast Chris Evans, Samuel L Jackson,

Scarlett Johansson Score ★★★★★

Fa awan, Nargis Cast Varun Dh uz Cr and Ileana D’ d Dhawan Director Davi

D

khri

avid Dhawan’s strategy for com-

edy is based on stock company actors. During his halcycon days as the premier comic film director of Hindi cinema, he had Govinda in every single film, supported by Kader Khan, Shakti Kapoor and Johnny Lever. That combination rarely failed. The films were not to everyone’s taste, of course, since there was slapstick and a lot of the dialogue contained double entendre references—heterosexual, bisexual and trisexual (try anything sexual).

Time moves on and the acting career of the son and heir takes precedence.

To give him his due, Varun Dhawan brings a lot of comic energy to Main Tera Hero. He plays a terrible student called Srinath Prasad, aka Seenu, who fails all his tests in Ooty and moves on to a college in Bangalore that looks like a holiday resort with ‘wacky social life:101’ as a mandatory subject.

Varun is clearly an admirer of the Jim Carrey school of comedy and uses a lot of his natural athleticism and facial 62 open

mobility to carry off absurd, over-thetop situations, on campus and off it.

Like the one where he falls for fellow student Sunaina (Illena D’Cruz), and is hounded by her burly police officer protector, Angad (Arunoday Singh), while being simultaneously pursued

by Ayesha (Nargis Fakhri).

Ayesha is Daddy’s little girl and since Daddy (Anupam Kher) is a Bangkok gangster, he plays ‘fetch’. He kidnaps Sunaina, and this fetches Seenu to his den. It also, inadvertently, fetches Angad. The entire cast gathered in one place, the remainder of the comedy is performed in the palace of the Bangkok Don, very much in David Dhawan style.

The laughs are there, but spaced far apart, and it is only in the last half hour that the film gains momentum.

The real problem is with the new stock company actors. Rajpal Yadav and Saurabh Shukla are just not funny enough to turn the movie into the laugh riot it could have been. n

The crux of this edition of ‘Captain America’ is the identity of the ‘the winter soldier’, the sinister assassin in the movie. He turns out to be a man from Steve Rogers’s past life in World War II, his old buddy, ‘Bucky Barnes’. This is the thing about comic book cinema. Characters are immortal. Nor do they ever age, and though Rogers must be at least 90, he looks as young as the actor who plays him (Chris Evans).

Naturally, Rogers is rendered emotionally vulnerable. He can’t kill his old friend, even though the guy died in World War II. Buck’s body has been brought back to life, but he looks the same age he did then, and he even has some faint memory of his buddy. Though unbelievable, this is the kind of human feeling that gets you involved with Captain America, but only up to a point.

Fortunately other characters do age and it is a delight to see the 77 year old Robert Redford play a double crossing senior officer in S.H.I.E.L.D. Apparently, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised for years. Ever since it was founded after World War II, senior officers have allowed HYDRA (as in the hydra headed monster) to infiltrate the premier espionage agency.

The movie is watchable at the start, but gradually loses the plot, before petering out into mindless action towards the end. n AD 21 April 2014

Not People Like Us

R aj e e v M asa n d

The Director’s Tantrum

The drama over the casting of Karan Johar’s Shuddhi and Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Bajirao Mastani reached epic proportions last week when Band Baaja Baaraat star Ranveer Singh was forced to choose one of the two films as a starring vehicle for himself, neither filmmaker willing to adjust his production schedules so the actor could work in both films.

But I told you that already. Last week, in fact.

Turns out it was Bhansali, Ranveer’s Ram-Leela director, who reportedly threw a hissy fit and more or less ‘emotionally blackmailed’ the star into choosing his next over Johar’s production, although Ranveer had signed Shuddhi before Bhansali finalised him for Bajirao. No wonder Johar is mighty miffed at Bhansali for his arm-twisting tactics, and for announcing the same release date for his film that Johar had already picked and announced for Shuddhi.

But one hears the usually competitive Johar may not bother with a fight this time around. Word on the circuit is that even as Bajirao goes into production soon, Johar is considering putting Shuddhi into cold storage for now. He has apparently told friends that he has no plans currently to look for replacement stars, and is wondering if it might be a better idea to put the film on the backburner while director Karan Malhotra whips up another script.

The New Kiss on the Block

Alia Bhatt and Arjun Kapoor, who star in 2 States and are rumoured to be dating offscreen, appear to be cheesed off by the relentless media attention on their on-screen kiss—as witnessed in trailers of the film.

Funny, given that the actors themselves have said in interviews that they enjoyed kissing each other. “But this kiss has become the only thing journalists write about,” Alia complains. “They ask a bunch of questions, but only keep the bits about the kiss.” Welcome to Bollywood, Ms Bhatt.

Gunday star Arjun, however, understands that all this chatter over their snog may not hurt the film after all: “If it brings people into the cinema to watch the movie, by all means keep talking about it.” But he will quickly explain that the kiss is not gratuitous.

“This couple is in a live-in relationship. They will share intimacy, and 21 april 2014

shooting a kiss is a way to convey that,” Arjun says.

He also sticks to what they have been saying in interviews—that they enjoyed kissing each other, but then wonders why such a big deal is being made of that. You point out that in an industry where actors mostly conduct romantic relationships discreetly, seldom admitting to them even after photographs of PDA are splashed in the tabloids, it’s refreshingly mature that a young pair would speak candidly about their chemistry. He smiles cheekily, but refuses to admit they’re a couple.

Being Starry

The new obsession among A-listers is achieving the Rs 1,000 crore net worth target. Every one of them is in the race, reveal leading producers who complain that they’re left bearing the brunt of it. One superstar, who’s negotiated a Rs 500 crore satellite deal with a channel for all his films over the next five years, will keep that cash as his fee for the said projects.

Ironically, the same actor likes to talk about responsibility, and about not burdening a project with unreasonable salaries. Yet, as one leading filmmaker who worked with him some years ago on an ensemble romantic film explains, he’s making it hard for producers to survive in the business. This producer reveals that he paid the star Rs 4 crore for starring in his 2007 film, but the actor is demanding remuneration amounting to Rs 66 crore for a new project. Not all of it is expected upfront, but that is what the star wants to be paid for appearing in the film by the time he’s finished making it.

But he’s hardly alone. With other A-listers producing most of their new films themselves, or demanding a sizeable percentage of profits from every release, they stand to make nearabout the same fee from big projects. But the bubble will burst, say industry watchers who point out that in this current scenario, nobody but actors end up making money… even when their films bomb.

“That’ll change quickly, because otherwise, soon you won’t have producers wanting to make any more movies,” a source explains. n Rajeev Masand is entertainment editor and film critic at CNN-IBN open www.openthemagazine.com 63

open space

Band Baaja since the Raj

by r au l i r a n i

Inside the factory of Nadir Ali & Co, manufacturers of all types of brass band instruments. The company was founded in 1885, when founder Nadir Ali bought the remains of a ship carrying British made brass wind instruments

64 open

21 april 2014

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