Today Times

Dilli Meri Jaan

Times Of India
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When fact is missing, fiction takes over. When real life goes a-begging, poetry finds a place. When reason is in shortage, rhyme fills the gap. It is a great thought that a house should become a home, that a neighbourhood should become a relationship, that a town should become a beloved friend. Words have never failed us. Actions always have.
 
There is a well meaning thought process that has been ticked into publicity regarding the city of Delhi, in consonance with the historic sport event. Obviously, the intentions are to make the citizen realize the improved infrastructure and civic facilities that the event has brought about, even if the event in making, finally requires the Prime Minister to supervise the project. If there is not much to write about the wedding, count on the orchestra for the pleasant evening, the variety of food served, or happily speculate on the massive amount of the dowry. Keep yourself at ease. This is someone else's wedding.
 
Unfortunately, sustaining sublime thought in the absence of action ever attempted, or even the state of preparedness of action ever contemplated, is trying to hold a low viscosity fluid on a metal sieve. You shall miss the juice. The peel and roughage are for others to see. It is indeed a pitiable condition that takes one to that state. Or an unexplainable circumstance thrust upon oneself.
 
Delhi even today, to the town planner as well as the common taxi driver, is a city that is mentally mapped in its historical as well geographical dichotomy. Chirag Dilli, vs Luytyen's Delhi, and the various satellite townships and 'serais' amalgamated during the last four centuries. Luytyen's was a bright and a clever man. Sitting atop Raisina Hill, he could carve out a Delhi which by very intention and ambition was to make the 'Moghul' Delhi look insignificant by comparison. He was clever, because, the most massive residence that he built, the Viceroy's Bungalow (Rashtrapati Bhawan), was to be his bride's home. Few people get that glory, luxury and a place in history by a single act. 'Moghul' Delhi historically better perfused with the nation's blood, was to complement as a 'heritage site' for visitor interest.
 
I heard the song. I ran over the lyrics. Great. The artists have nothing  but to spill out the best. The circumstances don't match. So much of love with a place with 700 plus dengue cases, and rising. Every pull on the guitar string coinciding with a sting of the mosquito. Every drum-beat timing with your tyres hitting a pot hole. Music inside-out. Yet a new discovery! A R Rahman was better, but weren't the words Bob Marley's famous opening lines, reggae included. Now consider every hoarding of achievement (as you drive along) countered by a travel advisory not to visit the place. Visitation shall only come with a monumental ambition to be able to beat the mosquitoes, potholes and traffic jams.
 
Finally, we have heard more popular music stuff about Mumbai, Kolkatta, even Chennai, in case I have been missing out on some Sivaji Ganesan or MGR stuff. None of these once popular songs by the campfire evoke emotion now. Urban India is urban ghetto, only  getting worse. Rural India is still pretty much rural. If there is little in terms of planning, there is much less in execution, and nothing at all in maintenance and quality. The chaos of the capital is the representative chaos of  an upcoming industrial power and a global economy.
 
In neurology, one notices a phenomenon termed as 'apraxia'. As a contrast to 'paralysis', it is defined as the inability to perform an action in the absence of any deficit in power, sensation or co-ordination. It is attributed to a failure of central processing in the brain. That seems to be a notable hitch in most of our projects.
 
'Dilli Meri Jaan' is rhetoric and symptomatic. If we recognize it well, the only salvation is in the promise that it shall not be repeated!
 
I must share this one. One of my first encounters was with an elderly Mr Dhingra,- overweight, smoker, diabetic, with a minor stroke. His much younger son 'Happy' introduced himself first, saying proudly, 'brought up in Delhi'! His wiser folk, with much less vocabulary at command, chipped in, 'Dhingra, brought up and brought down in Delhi!'

Will they dare to call Rahul Gandhi a Maoist sympathiser?

Times Of India
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"Development doesn't mean you take away the forests and mountain of the tribals… development doesn't mean that only big industrialists make money… development must help the poor…Here, the voice of tribals was being suppressed.. Now, there are two Hindustans, one of the rich whose voice reaches everywhere; the other of the poor whose voice is seldom heard. When I say I will be your sipahi in Delhi, my job is not done; it's just the beginning," said the bearded leader and the hills of Niyamigiri reverberated with loud cheers. The tribals shouted slogans, celebrating their victory over Vedanta, the MNC which had been eyeing the sacred mountain for its mining operations.
 
The leader with a beard on his face and a touch of rebellion in his voice was not a Maoist ideologue asking people to rise against the State. It was Rahul Gandhi, the Congress general secretary and the future face of the party. "You've been fighting for your rights peacefully. Your voice has reached New Delhi. You've saved your land, mountain and religion. I extended help in whichever way I could," the Congress leader said and the Dongria Kondh people, who have been fighting the mining company and the state government for years to save their land and culture, shouted with joy. 
 
Though some people have dubbed Rahul's visit to Niyamgiri and his provocative speech as a political stunt against Navin Patnaik's BJD government, we can't ignore the significance – symbolic and literal – of what Rahul said in front of the Dongria Kondhs.  In his speech, Rahul raised some pertinent questions. He questioned the nature of development in India. He accepted the fact that the so-called development has created two Indias. He acknowledged that the tribals are being oppressed in their own homeland. He challenged the government's policy of grabbing forests and mountains in the name of development. He appreciated the people who fought the mining giant. He agreed that the poor tribals didn't have a voice in the nation's capital. And he applauded the tribals' non-violent struggle.
 
Hundreds of journalists, academics, civil society activists, writers and environmentalists have been saying this for years. Arundhati Roy has raised these issues in her brilliant essays many times. Congress leaders such as Mani Shankar Aiyar and Digvijay Singh too have spoken on these issues with great clarity and sensitivity. Even Mamata Banerjee has raised this issue. But all these thinking people have been dubbed Maoists or Maoist sympathizers by the hawks in the establishment who have been itching for a war with "dangerous and armed tribals". Now, Rahul has spoken. What will they do now? Will they call him a Maoist sympathizer?  Will they dare to call him a half-Maoist?
 
The BJP, which has created monsters such as Salwa Judum and believes in solving the problem in India's tribal heartland with ruthless violence, is already training its guns at Rahul. The party has accused Rahul of sharing dais with Lado Sikoka, a man suspected of being a Maoist sympathizer.  It's being claimed that the Orissa Police had picked up Sikoka for being a Maoist recently. I don't know if Sikoda is a Maoist sympathizer or not but in Orisaa and other states hundreds of innocent, poor tribals have been arrested on this stupid charge. The Chhattisgarh Police has even arrested journalists for writing articles on Maoists. It has even filed a case against Arundhati Roy.
 
The BJP is angry with Rahul not for sharing stage with an alleged Maoist sympathizer but because of his attack on the nature of development in this country. Because it believes in predatory capitalism, the BJP will not stop short of killing tribals, clearing all the forests and hand over all the mines and other resources to people like Bellary Brothers who can squeeze it for their personal profits. 
 
By speaking up against this kind of development, Rahul has shown great maturity. By speaking for the tribals' rights, Rahul has emphasized on the importance of grassroots democracy and development. Seen through the prism of vote bank politics, Rahul's combative speech at Niyamgiri may look like political posturing but if we look at it objectively, it can be game changer.  There is no doubt that sooner or later Rahul will be the country's leader. And if he is thinking on these lines, it can be only good news as it will make India a really inclusive country where local communities and not Big Money sharks and their agents in government decide the nature of development.
 
Branding him a Maoist sympathizer is a waste of time.

Too much is too bad...

Times Of India
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Even as I’m writing this blog, over 2 lakh 16-year-olds must be taking their first baby steps into the new world called “college”. After months of delay and arguments led by the state education board, junior college admissions are finally coming to an end and colleges have finally decided to not wait for a government notice to start regular lectures.

School uniforms will be replaced with branded clothes, neck ties will be replaced with trendy accessories, neatly combed hair will now be loaded with hair gel and set into a funky hairdo……and the list of changes will go on. But what should you expect once you enter the new campus? I gave this a lot of thinking and finally concluded that I seriously don’t know what the freshers can expect in colleges these days.

Few years ago, I would have said “beware of your seniors, they will be looking for victims for ragging.’ Ragging, just few years ago, was used as a fun term. People took raging very sportingly and enjoyed that ritual. But, after numerous instances of students being traumatized by their seniors, so many students dying due to ragging or killing themselves after a case of ragging took away the fun out of this ritual. Just because few students took ragging to an extreme level, the enthusiasm to start life in college seemed to diminish with every new instance of “death due to ragging.”

Few years ago, a handful of college festivals organised by few colleges in the city were the places to be at as a fresher. Lately, every college seems to be organising one college festival at least (with some organising as many as seven different inter-collegiate fests, one for each department in the college.) One obviously can’t manage to attend all these and hence, the charm of a college festival is slowly diminishing.

The opportunity to wear colourful clothes was the biggest attraction in college life. But lately, the kind of clothes one sees being adorned by boys and girls takes away the fascination altogether. It’s not about looking good and presentable anymore, instead, it is about grabbing eyeballs now. Fashion seems to have taken over as the be all and end all of ever collegian. And once again, the list of changes just goes on…

I can faintly remember my father once telling me, “Too much is too bad. Anything, when done beyond a certain limit, loses it's charm.” Though it sounded like preaching at that point of time, it sounds so true today.

I still wish the best of luck for all the freshers who are enthusiastic about starting a new chapter in their academic life. After all, college days have and will always be the most cherished memories in everybody’s lives!

Cheers! 

Our pot-holed system breeds treadmillionaires

Times Of India
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After long and in-depth research, full of arduous travel to tedious destinations such as Singapore, Bali, Los Angeles, New York, London and Berlin — with a difficult weekend side-trip to Helsinki — an all-party parliamentary delegation has come to the incontrovertible conclusion that it only rains in India.

The logic is irrefutable. If rain fell on other cities, their roads would also crumple like Commonwealth Games toilet paper. Since no London becomes a moon track with one rainfall, it obviously never rains in London.

Fie on those who think that only Delhi surrenders to water-riven weather. The ‘low way’ (it began as a highway) between Mussoorie and Delhi is a very democratic drive. It begins in BJP khand, swerves through BSP queendom and then zigzags into Congress empire. This national artery gets a nervous breakdown in Uttarakhand, then descends into nightmarish trauma in UP. By the time it enters Delhi, it has an incurable split personality. It should be renamed  after Freud.

We are a curious nation. For nine months we pray for the monsoon, and the moment our prayers are answered, we have no idea what to do. It is as if the showers came once a century rather than once a year.

You don’t need to summon Agatha Christie to solve the plot. Most of our roads are constructed for annual destruction, since there is more money to be made in rebuilding than in building. Governments are not merely hand-in-glove with contractors; they are hand-in-pocket. Shared loot is safe loot.

Contractors are not particularly worried about the law; they have lawyers with Satyam on their tongues. A congenial cynic suggested that it was time Parliament passed legislation decreeing that anyone worth more than Rs 1,000 crore would automatically be given bail. Businessmen make money all over the world. The difference is the distance between profit and avarice. The first has limits; greed has none.

In our country, corruption has become mainstream; honesty is a rivulet, which is why the System has developed such sophisticated expertise at deflecting street anger. The game is played out in full public view, and we do not see hypocrisy trapping us in slow motion.

What does the System do when it does not have an answer? It changes the question.

Witness how the rage against corruption in CWG has been manoeuvred into a debate on whether they can be held successfully. Who was responsible for this delay in the first place? Even this question has been diverted. The Organizing Committee, reorganized with some sticking plaster, is being reinvented from villain to victim of mysterious forces. We do not know if any race in CWG will see a nail-biting finish, but certainly the preparation has acquired a nail-biting dénouement.

Fudge is offered instead of explanation. The previous government, it is declared in stentorian tones, took the decision to hold the Games in Delhi. So? The previous government did not decide to hire treadmills for a few weeks at many times their retail price. Instead of treadmills, we have treadmillionaires.

A committee of 10 wise bureaucrats is appointed as the scourge to destroy evil and shepherd the Games towards a shining heaven. What has the committee been tasked to do? To “solve coordination problems…ensure completion…furnish progress reports…tie up loose ends”. In other words, to do within 45 days what should have been done over 45 months.

The simple fact is that they cannot take any decisions because all the decisions have already been taken during The Era of Evil — apart perhaps from a catering contract and sponsorship, the second of which is a revenue decision rather than a spending one. A government committee, incidentally, will provide excellent cover for the return of public sector sponsors.

The critical issue lies elsewhere. Indians are not against the Games; they are against corruption in the Games. Can this committee reverse any of the deals that have been exposed remorselessly by media? Will it return, without payment, the treadmills to those who have become treadmillionaires? Sanctimonious noises about the guilty being punished after the event are meaningless. How? If a contract has been sealed at a particular price by mutual consent, and then executed, how can the contractor be held guilty of malpractice?  This is more dust in the eyes of a nation already semi-blind with sleaze.

Suresh Kalmadi was quite right to flash a V-sign after the “accountability” meeting at the Prime Minister’s residence on Thursday afternoon. The scapegoats in his committee have paid the necessary price. None of their decisions have been altered, since there were too many others clinging to the food chain. Nothing has changed, apart from the touch of a few cosmetics that barely hide the accumulated debris of deals. Long live the System.
Unless, of course, it rains on the parade in October.

Well said, Mani

Times Of India
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Mani Shankar Aiyer lives in Safdarjung Lane. The road is one of umpteen in Lutyens’ Delhi stretches where perfectly fine dividers  / pavements have been dug up and redone – or are in the process – in the name of the Commonwealth Games.

One of the million instances where public money is being strewn around – needless to say most of them making their way somehow or the other to the pockets of politicians and bureaucrats – for making Delhi Games ready. If Aiyer has the good sense  - equal chances though that it is the propensity and love to shock -  to feel outraged by what he sees every day as he leaves his home – and bode ill for the Games he needs to be applauded and supported.

The cost escalations have been preposterous. Delhi government alone has seen a more than 1000% jump in expenses from the initial estimates. Three years back, the government’s top officials said the city would spend Rs 770 crore on the Games. Today it stands at Rs 11,000 crore and counting, most of it money that could have been far better spent elsewhere.

Sample the costs of just two Games projects. Barapullah Nullah Road, probably the single most important Games project and one that has been written about the most thanks to the interminable delays is costing Rs 660 crore and has missed deadline after deadline since the beginning of the year. The Ring Road bye-pass projects costs Rs 650 crore. Both roads are just 5-5.5 km in length.

And in the former Delhi government is locked in a nasty wrangle with the contractors who have reportedly been asking for a hike given that they actually used launchers to build a bridge and did not leave just the pillars standing! Contractors who till last year had the staunchest possible backing of the political leadership.

It does not of course end with digging up dividers and building prohibitively expensive elevated roads. Look at the freshly minted CP mess and among the innumerable ditches there would be three which have been dug up for the new subways of which the original ambition was to construct 8. The work cannot be finished before the Games under any circumstances.

So what is obviously going to happen is that before the event, the ditches will be covered up and after it re-dug. At public expense.

Reasons enough to join Aiyer in his prayers for a spoilt CWG?

Cricketer and saviour

Times Of India
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The best story for me about the 26/7 Mumbai floods whose fifth anniversary we observed in Mumbai on July 26, 2010 was that of an Air India fast bowler and TV serial actor from UP, Bhupinder Singh, who saved the lives of nearly 30 people. He used get nightmares about the event till three months ago. While the heroics of most came on day two, Bhupinder's was on on day one. His first act was to escort an office colleague Ms Kanchan to her home in chest-high water.

His next was to rescue two kids on the ground floor of his house Air-India colony on the road next to the tarmac of Mumbai airport. He had got out in search of his eight-year-old son Siddharth who had not come home from school.

Bhupinder's next act was mind-boggling. In a five-hour operation he hauled over 25 people from a BEST bus ten feet under water to a building using a nylon rope. He swam to a building in the colony grabbed a clothesline and tied it to a grill and stretched it to window railing of the bus. He hauled between 25 to 30 passengers one by one. It took him five hours between 6 .30pm and 11.30pm in pitch darkness. One lady fainted and fell in the water. He picked her up and placed her on he compound wall till she regained consciousness.

Back home things were not hunky dory as the son was still missing. Only on the third day could Bhupinder go to his son's school only to be told that a co-parent had taken his son to his home.The player reiterates that it was a miracle and act of god that he was able to swim and manoeuvre through the polluted and muddy waters oblivious of the snakes, the dirty foliage and barbed wires.

It is sad that people haven't taken much notice of his feat. While TV channels featured a lot of brave hearts Bhupinder was left in anonymity. His office too hasn't done much, by way of an increment or some such thing. But his office colleague and Air India teammate Sanjeev Jadhav couldn't stand the anonymity any longer. He tipped me off and I got Bhupinder on the stage during the annual awards of the Sports Journalists Federation of India in 2006 and his feat was proclaimed before an august audience of past and present sportspersons and sports media from all India.

Bhupinder, a Lucknow cricketer came to Mumbai in 1992. Pravin Barve got him to play for MIG and Air India. He played for UP in 1994 and 1995 but without much success. He has done roles in TV serials of bank manager (Tumhari Dishaa), goonda (Detective Karan), doctor (Jaane Anjaane) and police inspector in a film 'Aunsh'. He will be seen in the new serial 'Mera Naam Karegi Roshan'. But the biggest role of his life has been of savior.

Choosing not to disbelieve

Times Of India
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This was what my Sunday forecast for the week had to say about how to forestall some predicted health problems-"throwing sweet sugar revadis in flowing river water and burying blue flowers in a deserted place or field just a few minutes before sunset will ensure relief from adverse influences. If your spouse is also unwell, you could donate a brown cow or feed jaggery mixed with wheat every Sunday". Now it is unlikely that one-twelfth of mankind has hunted down sweet sugar revadis or handed over brown cows to some deserving parties in the last seven days, and it is extremely likely that they continue to be in the pink of health , but the fact remains that much as I sneer at the somewhat unconventional prescription, i did read my forecast and do so pretty much every week as do a large number of readers of newspapers in the world.

This curious combination of outright disbelief that borders on the contemptuous and the hey-you-never-know accommodation is a common characteristic of our times. Nothing illustrates this better than our (now mercifully fading) obsession with Paul the Octopus (capitalised ala Catherine the Great & Conan the Barbarian) and his uncanny predictions of football results. Now there is no satisfactory explanation of his extraordinary run of accurate predictions, except a tepid-sounding recourse to the laws of probability which allow for all improbable events by labelling them as such. And even by standards of new age mysticism, where we are able to make the most extraordinary connections and accept them as logical, the ability of an octopus to tell us about who will win a game of football is eye-popping in its strangeness. Why not baseball? Why an octopus and not a tiger shark? Why of all places in the world, did Paul have to come from the Germany? Serious questions, all of these.

The dominant response to the phenomenon of a prophecy spewing mollusc has been one of amused interest. We find his uncanny run of correct predictions entertaining rather than aggravating. For most of us, Paul the Octopus belongs to an ever increasing space in our lives- a terrain that lies suspended between truth and fiction, acceptance and rejection, knowledge and faith. We choose neither to believe nor actively challenge, but make room for the possibility without feeling an overriding need for explanations. Of course, there are also more passionate believers on both sides- rationalists who fulminate at the absurdity of believing in octopi with foresight or brown cows with healing powers and the believers who see this as proof that so much lies beyond the pale of scientific understanding that such apparently absurd connections are inevitable. To this group, Paul merely proves that science knows very little.

And Paul is not alone. In a world otherwise dominated by technology and the goodies brought to us by science, we find it very easy to believe in a large number of phenomena that lie outside the pale of conventional science. Reiki, magnet therapy, aromatherapy, vaastushastra, numerology are part of a growing tribe of alternative ways of controlling the immediate world we inhabit. We do not for most part see the conflict between believing in getting the vastu checked out in a new house that we buy while continuing to otherwise in all things scientific. If anything, there is a growing fascination for the 'alternative' and an easy acceptance of possibilities that science emphatically rules out.

At its heart, we are able to detach action from belief. We don't need to believe in something in order to act by its rules. Why not give reiki a shot, even though one may not really believe in or understand its precepts? Increasing our interest lies in the outcome, and the process is seen to be a technical detail of interest only to the practitioner of the craft. Science becomes craft, belief becomes expectation, and outcomes become products one can shop for. Like in the case of a product or technology where we don't need to get into the innards of what makes things work, equally in the case of new age prescriptions, we have little interest in the principles that lie within each discipline. We adopt a cut-paste view of reality where we seek to transfer good outcomes to our personal contexts. We implicitly embrace a position of disembodied empiricism, a belief in the 'he wore this ring on the index finger and his business flourished and who am I to know better' school of causality which looks upon events only through a lens of personal needs. The overriding interest is in oneself, not in the means adopted. So if conventional medicine fails, let us try something else, and if that too gives up, there's always a ring one can wear and a cow one can appease.

Sandwiched between an overwhelming regard for oneself and an inability to control one's circumstances with the precision one seeks, we are looking for newer technologies of the self. New age beliefs may or may not be science but they certainly in technologies in that they seek to manipulate the world around us in order to give us outcomes we desire. And if that means suspending disbelief about astrologically enabled aquatic animals, so be it.

Bapu, the real Big B

Times Of India
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"Many people argue with me and try to convince me that the cinema has an educative value. But the argument doesn't appeal to me at all. If I had my way, I would see to it that all the cinemas and theatres in India were converted into spinning halls and factories for handicrafts of all kinds."
 
This is what Mahatma Gandhi felt about movies. He was the biggest universally acknowledged hero born on Indian soil. His own life is like a tight screenplay of Salim-Javed, which contains all possible emotions. His life reads like a film script and, though he don't like films at all, he is still a big draw for film makers.

After the controversy of ‘Dear friend Hitler', in which the film makers said that the name itself comes from the contents of the two letters Gandhi wrote to Hitler, one more debutante director Pranav Dhiwar is Making a comedy titled 'Gandhi Ki Shaadi Mein Zaroor Aana'. This is a modern love story between a couple named Gandhi and Kasturba.

From the great movie maker Richard Attenborough to Rajkumar Hirani, everyone has seen potential of a moving story in Bapu's life. Gandhi had a very rigid view about films. He further wrote, "If I was made Prime Minister of the country....I would close all the cinemas and theatres, though I might, as an exception, permit exhibition of pictures of educational value or showing scenes of natural beauty. But singing and dancing I would stop completely."

Donn Byrne writes in his book 'Mahatma Gandhi: The man and his message': "Gandhi never went to the cinema himself and had not even heard of Charlie Chaplin. He only agreed to meet him when he heard that Chaplin had come from a poor family in the east end, where Gandhi himself had stayed for a time when he first came to England as a student and where he was now staying once again." 
 
Mahatma Gandhi also very popular among film-makers when he was fighting for Independence. Producers used Gandhi's photographs to adorn film posters, with much smaller photos of the hero and heroine. A Hollywood film also felt it commercially prudent to put out an advertisement claiming, 'Mahatma Gandhi sees the first talking picture - 'Mission to Moscow'. The report that followed suggested that Mahatma Gandhi considered this film to be of the 'right type'.

'Money too hot to handle'

Times Of India
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In one of south Mumbai's toniest neighbourhoods, a colossal, intimidating structure juts into the horizon. At more than twice the height of Delhi's Qutub Minar, the about-to-be completed skyscraper will be the new home of the country's richest man and his family of four. At under $ 2 billion (around Rs 9,000 crore), the 27-storey house is touted to be the largest and most expensive residence in the world. For architects and designers its an iconic building — for many others, a towering monstrosity and epitome of man's vanity. In India's financial capital, the contrast is stark. The city has the maximum number of billonaires, but is also home to more than six million slum dwellers and over a million people earning barely Rs 20 a day. A Human Development Report commissioned for Mumbai's municipal corporation and funded by the United Nations Development Programme last year rightly questioned, "Given the level of deprivation and the size of the deprived population, it would be natural to ask, 'Whose city is Mumbai anyway?'.'' Here, Mumbai may be a metaphor for the wide disparities between the haves and the have nots. While these billionaire industrialists and business tycoons are wizards when it comes to creating wealth, their track record in the field of philanthrophy is abysmal. Corporate social responsibility is about their own corporate/personal interest. Except for some honourable exceptions, most would prefer 'donating' obscene amounts to temple trusts or set up exclusive educational institutions where fees could be as high as Rs 12 lakh a year.

At the other end of the globe in the US, billionaires like Bill Gates and Warren Buffett are pushing that country's wealthiest to pledge at least 50% of their money to charity during their lifetimes or at death. Its an entirely different philosophy, which is exemplified by Buffet's recent article in Fortune magazine titled, 'My Philanthropic Pledge': "More than 99% of my wealth will go to philanthropy during my lifetime or at death. Measured by dollars, this commitment is large. In a comparitive sense, though, many individuals give more to others every day. Millions of people who regularly contribute to churches, schools, and other organisations thereby relinquish the use of funds that would otherwise benefit their own families. The dollars these people drop into a collection plate or give to United Way mean forgone movies, dinners out, or other personal pleasures. In contrast, my family and I will give up nothing we need or want by fulfilling this 99% pledge,'' says the 80-year-old American investor. He continued, "The reaction of my family and me to our extraordinary good fortune is not guilt, but rather gratitude. Were we to use more than 1% of my claim checks on ourselves, neither our hapiness nor our well-being would be enhanced. In contrast, that remaining 99% can have a huge effect on the health and welfare of others. That reality sets an obvious course for me and my family:Keep all we can conceivably need and distribute the rest to society, for its needs.''

Back in the 19th century, Mumbai had its own merchant philanthropists of which most of today's corporate tsars, ensconced in their palatial mansions, may not have even heard of. Among them was the Merchant Prince Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy. Born on July 15, 1783 to a poor Parsi family, Jamsetjee led a carefree life till tragedy struck and both his parents died in quick succession when he was in his teens. Later, he would work at his uncle's shop, selling empty bottles. With a strong belief that charity is the noblest of virtues, at 16, he set sail for China and traded in cotton and opium with that country. He was not just an astute man of business, but participated actively in the development of institutions which served not just his community brethren, but the public at large. The JJ hospital, Grant Medical College, Sir JJ School of Arts, Sir JJ School of Architecture, JJ Dharamshala and large contributions for an animal shelter are some of his contributions to Mumbai. He gave liberally to the development of public assets in the sphere of health, economic infrastructure, water facilities and other areas of what modern day economists call the social sector. He financed the construction of many public works such as wells, reservoirs, bridges, and causeways.

Compared to the 27-storey ostentatious tower, Jamsetjee lived in a grand colonial style mansion built in 1834. He died on April 15, 1859, and it is said all institutions, including schools and factories shut down as a mark of respect. This is something that our modern-day pashas should strive for — to alleviate human distress in all its forms.

Tunnel vision in capital

Times Of India
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Last week a report about the government mulling a tunnel from the Prime Minister's residence to Safdarjung airport caught my eye. It is supposed to be a security measure, to safely evacuate the Prime Minister from 7 Race Course Road in case of an emergency. Just so there shouldn't be too much outcry about it, it was added that it would also help Delhi motorists often caught up in traffic jams caused by VIP movements.

My first reaction was somebody in the security set-up has been watching too much Hollywood. How could they even think of something like this? Any idea how much that would cost? A 3km tunnel underneath New Delhi's primest real estate would run into hundreds of crores of rupees. It is just not justified for a kind of situation that may never arise. Exactly what kind of emergency it is designed to protect the Prime Minister against?

If it is a terror attack then it is a shame that the security establishment thinks it is still possible for a bunch of terrorists to sneak in through the rings of security already in place and personnel on call.

The area is already a no-fly zone and one can be sure mechanisms are in place to deal with violations. That does leave out something like a nuclear attack on the capital. In that case, I guess getting out three kilometres away won't be of much use.

Security establishments the world over are obsessed with doing the outlandish and it is for the political leadership to control this obsession. There is no end to what you can do to make somebody totally secure. Question is, should you do it? Nobody would grudge the country's chief executive reasonable security. The keyword here is reasonable.

Consideration has to be given to what is justified when there are so many other demands on national resources. Would it not make more sense to shift the PM's office and residence closer to the airport?

To think of underground escape tunnels for a few in a country where common people live without basic needs is an obscenity. Just think how many villages would be able to have drinking water for that kind of money. And what would do greater credit to the country — villages having water or a super secure Prime Minister? This kind of thinking recently made the government buy super luxurious Embraer aircraft for VIP movements. Chief ministers, some of whom have ended up having a small fleet of aircraft, are now emulating this. It is OK to enjoy the spoils of office but beyond a limit, it indicates a dangerous disconnect with reality. It is already making people lose faith in their rulers.

Two types of nations go in for such extravagance. The first is rich nations like the US where basics have been taken care of. The second is tin-pot nations like Zimbabwe and North Korea where rulers have long ceased to have any thought for their people. Our rulers must decide where they stand.