2011: A quick recap

What an year 2011 was! I spent exactly six months being jobless, literally, and oh, how I enjoyed doing whatever I pleased. It was such a good year mostly because I travelled. A lot. Five new countries in a year has been my personal best.

It was a year of catching up with friends, making new ones, exploring several cities, discovering incredible TV shows (!), getting back to books, getting excited enough to take a stance -- and all this with great company! It was even the year the first boy (my nephew) in our family of girls was born.

I discovered Adele, my baking and cooking skills, saw Eric Clapton live (!), learnt how to live within 600 square feet (with a boy), converted to Apple, and learnt how to Scuba dive.

So, even if the world ends in 2012 (Mayans, bring it on), I will take a bow happily. In no particular order, here's why:
1. Finally watched Broadway shows
2. Had the honor of stepping into Max Brenner's world
3. Saw Kevin Spacey and Robin Williams perform live
4. Saw the most amazing corals and underwater life in Thailand and Fiji
5. Watched India win the cricket world cup!
6. Wore a winter coat and boots for the first time ever
7. Learnt to use chopsticks
8. Discovered Pimm's!

I have a nagging feeling that I will have a list to share in 2013 as well. Later then.

Politics and Gumption

I didn’t think it was possible to be inspired by a dialogue from a feel-good, happily-ever-after movie to comment on politics, but well… stranger things have happened.

When Eli Wallach explains the virtue and importance of “gumption” to Kate Winslet in the 2006 movie “The Holiday,” I’m certain the “most powerful” men of modern day politics were not paying attention.

They should have.

Perhaps it would have helped prevent this wave of gumption-less decisions that are being made by politicians across the world.

Let me start with my motherland. (Happy Independence month, by the way).

The hot potato in our government’s hands right now is Anna Hazare. Yes, it’s the same potato the government has dropped, squashed and tumbled over in the past few, actually several, days.

Without getting into specifics, here’s the crux of this mess –

Mr. Hazare, a veteran in the fight against corruption, has been criticizing the current Congress-led government that’s been basking in a swamp of corruption. He wants to put together a bill that he believes will do much to curb corruption.

And his mode of protest to ensure that he is being taken seriously is the old Gandhian way of going on a hunger strike. He has been on hunger strikes before and he threatened to go on a new one from yesterday, Aug. 16.

This return to Gandhian ways as opposed to barking and yelling into the microphone or being responsible for violent protests has struck a chord with many Indians. No, there is no Indian spring in the offing, but people took notice of his efforts and nodded in agreement from a distance.

So far so good. Harmless protests - just another day in the life of a democratic country.

Except, the government, adding to its list of jobs well done, decided to arrest him before he went on his latest hunger strike.

And that’s where it made a big boo boo.

Much uproar ensued and the government came under fire from several different corners and realized its blunder. (And when I say blunder, I’m not referring to such comments from Congress leaders as – The police is not under any political influence. They are working independently.)

And what could very well have been just another incident that most urban Indians discuss and dismiss over coffee, has turned into social media and phone/SMS crusades against the government and in strong support for Anna.

Nothing wrong there, but from a political perspective, the government could not have handled this any worse. And, of course, buckling under sudden pressure, the government decided to release Anna from custody. (Anna, on his part, has scoffed at this and is still in a room in the prison where he began his fast yesterday).

And this brings me to this post’s theme – Gumption.

Where is it?

One cannot help but wonder why the government cannot 1) make a wise and tactical move in response to a crisis and 2) stick to its decision once it has made one.

I’m certainly not saying that Anna should have remained in custody. No. I’m wondering why the government did not even try to explain its thought process. Surely there was one? (I’m ignoring “It was Delhi Police’s idea” and PC’s talk on refusal to obey prohibitory order etc. for obvious reasons.)

By jumping up and down like a petrified and possibly electrified rodent, the government is simply giving more weight to the opinion that there was in fact NO thought process. That by jailing a protester, the idea was that the protest would die and no one would notice.

To be fair, I want to give the Congress party more credit. They are stupid yes, but this stupid?

But look at the other global stalwarts. Mr. Manmohan Singh is not the only one hearing the word spineless ever so often these days.

Mr. Barack Obama certainly knows it all too well. I even hear he believes he deserves to patent it. He’s willing to give up rights to the word “change” in exchange.

The debt crisis and the healthcare bill were too jarring to dismiss as the president having a few bad days.

Mr. David Cameron too could use some reminders. He seems to have lost focus… what with all the schmoozing with Murdoch and his cronies. Riots? What, pray tell, is that?

And look who is on the other end of the spectrum.

China would do well by doing what they did to the US credit rating – take it down a couple of notches. Let the trouble begin before taking action. What fun is to clampdown before things get even close to exciting?

Libya – Mr. Gaddafi, are you there? Please don’t be.

I spent some time trying to come up with a masculine and political equivalent to the genius that is the following sentence. But words fail me. Suggestions?

Eli Wallach to Kate Winslet – “In the movies, we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend.”

PS: Mrs. Sonia Gandhi, I meant to use the above as a metaphor. Please don’t take these lines seriously.

Macau - the gambling getaway

One of the advantages of living in a place like Hong Kong is that it is a convenient hub that provides easy access to the rest of Southeast Asia. And Macau and Hong Kong are just like sisters - both are what is called a "special administrative region" (meaning the big brothers in the "mainland" are not going to directly involve themselves in running the government), they both serve as faces of China (albeit with different functions) and they are both hounded by mainland Chinese as well as foreigners.

While Hong Kong is the face of China for the world, Macau is the gambling capital of this part of the world – though I reckon it's fair to say it's the gambling capital with Las Vegas and Atlantic City still some distance away.

It has the same make-believe world that was made popular by Vegas and it has the same players too – MGM, Venetian, Wynn and Las Vegas Sands. Where the difference lies is that companies continue to flock to Macau where construction and development remain on the rise. Just a 45-minute ferry ride from Hong Kong and about an hour’s ride from Shenzhen (in China), Macau serves both as a weekend/quick getaway for Hong Kongers aka Hongkees as well as the IT place for Chinese people to quench their voracious thirst for gambling. (The hyperlink is for the uninitiated and folks who may doubt what I’m saying – though for us frequent Macau visitors it’s a fact that needs no backing.)

And so you have the hordes, no matter what time of the day or night, pouring into Macau. Should you decide to plan your visit to Macau and book a room at one of the casino hotels in advance, you get all kinds of deals from free two-way ferry tickets to vouchers to gamble at the casino and complimentary tickets to plays/performances by troupes such as Cirque Du Soleil. All you have to do is get on the ferry in Hong Kong/China, get off at Macau and get into one of the many, many shuttle buses run by the resorts that swallow people up for free and drop them off at the casinos. The whole sequence always strikes me as a way for the casinos to ensure that their patrons have no distractions whatsoever and that they engage in the one thing that they have all come to Macau for – gambling.

And sure enough, no one’s complaining. The Chinese come in throngs with bags and bags and kids and families to a world where there is a colossal cascade with dancing lights as soon as you enter a resort (Galaxy Macau), gondola rides in fairly clean water (unlike the real deal in Venice), it's hard to tell if it's night or day once you are within the casino hotels, all the shopping you will ever need, food courts with diverse cuisines, free water/juice/alcohol in the casino area where…..SMOKING is allowed! AND all this so you can gamble and possibly earn tax-free money -- a one-stop shop for everybody’s needs. Who needs the American dream when you have the Macanese one?

The best part of the whole arrangement is the diversity of people who come to Macau and how much they are willing to spend on gambling. Never mind the high-stakes folks, I will stick to my league – the average resident of Hong Kong who thinks going to Macau once in a while is fun and is willing to risk a 1000 (HK) dollars in the casino. So when I found myself in this utterly ordinary situation recently, tides turned for the worse and soon enough I was at liberty to put my great powers of observation to use as the casino table I was at gave me the boot. I looked around hoping to take in the sea of emotions of the sea of people around me and I did – the screaming, war cries of victory, the hoots and the silent walk-aways. But after a while, all I took in were the zombies. I was thoroughly amazed to see the tenacity with which people stuck to the tables they were at – Blackjack, Poker, Baccarat, Sic Bo. It didn't matter whether they were winning or losing, they just stayed. And the tenacity is put to test when you running low on dough and are on the brink of leaving when another average guy, who does not look like the brand-conscious wealthy Chinese, comes to your table and places ten notes of 1000 dollars each and asks for chips in return. And you look at the man, who frankly smells of alcohol you can’t really place, and wonder what in the whole wide world you have been doing with your time when clearly the rest of the world seems to be earning enough money to afford these luxuries. Or when a rickety old lady who needs a walker to get by is sitting at a table with two huge stacks of 1000 dollar chips and all you can do is bow down and walk the walk of shame. It’s simply mind boggling, how these people are able to take on the risky business and come back week after week to the one destination in China where gambling is legal. But then again, isn't that what an addiction is all about?

Doing this drill a few times has left me with the impression that I've at last found THE Californian hotel in my backyard. People are checking out for sure, oh but are they leaving?

Of judgement, redemption and the saviour

You have 38 days to embrace Christ, judgement day is here!

Those were the words I heard from an earnest old man while waiting for a train in the sleepy suburban New York town of Suffern. Under normal circumstances, I would've smiled politely and refused the pamphlet the man was shoving into my palm. But obviously, today was an exception. After all I needed some meat to write this post.

So, when thus addressed, I simply said - oh, but I'm not Christian. The last I saw the hurt look he gave me was on my husband's face when I told him that we would not be buying iPhone 4, IPad 2 or the new version of Wei. The old man with his faded cap, as soon as he found his words, then asked me quite genuinely - What are you?

Seeing that this was going to be a memorable conversation, I informed him I was what they called a Hindu. He wondered for a moment as to why I was making random noises and calling it a religion but quickly ignored what I said and proceeded to inquire whether I knew about Christ and the bible. I said I had vaguely heard about them (little did he know that I had studied in Christ's temple of knowledge). By now, the man was visibly agitated and said I simply must read the pamphlet because I was running out of time. "He is coming next month."

He seemed to so absolutely believe in what he was saying that I didn't have the heart to refuse. He approved solemnly and asked me if I wanted a copy of the bible and reassured me that much could be accomplished with in 38 days.

Just then my train arrived and his parting words to me were - "This is not a joke. I'm not trying to make money. I just want to help."

I thanked him for the effort and boarded the train. I'm now wondering what he would have said had I told him how I really felt about the issue.

As luck would have it, he will never know. And thank god for that.

Of late, I’ve been wondering a lot about parenting. What with the furore caused by Amy Chua’s passionate article and book, it certainly seems to be a wildly fascinating topic. More so, since I belong to the Indian society where the family unit is tightly knit and parents naturally tend to have tons of expectations from their kids and children take a lot of things for granted when it comes to their folks.

Chua’s theory basically is this – Just keep pushing your child and you’ll produce one of the following: a prodigy, a genius, an all-round star, a wildly talented kid. And for all this to be possible, the kid can basically have no fun at all and cannot do most things that fellow kids do. And this in comparison to how “western” moms raise their children in an article titled “Why Chinese mothers are superior”. No surprise then that the article has and continues to generate passionate responses. Here’s one of the responses the Journal carried.

While I can see why a “Western” reader will be appalled by what Chua has to say, I’d be lying if I say that Chua’s style of parenting does not sound familiar. I’m certain that most Indian kids know of someone who has a demanding parent, if they don’t have one themselves, though it’ll be unwise to think these stereotypes are not changing, both in terms of the “Chinese” and “Western” style of parenting.

Case in point: Judy Murray – mother of rising tennis star, Andy. Now, while I cannot claim to know the exact style of her parenting, those of us who have watched her be a part of the audience while Andy’s playing, may find it hard to not lean towards the possibility that she is a tiger mom. The woman has nothing to do with the Far East but it appears that being an overbearing parent has worked really well for her and even her kids.

The "tiger mom" style of parenting is based on the assumption that competitiveness is absolutely necessary for excellence and if your child is not naturally competent, it’s the parent’s duty to instill this “virtue” in the child. Though there may be some shred of truth to this, I believe the theory largely is largely flawed. Different kinds of incentives work with different kids.

Since tennis is the flavour of the season, let’s consider another example – Li Na. One wonders how much her Chinese mother had to do with her success. Or perhaps, her husband chose to be the tiger mom in her life. Something tells me Ms. Chua has a better theory.

But at the end of the day, it all boils down to one simple fact. Most parents just take a leap of faith and earnestly hope their kids turn alright. And I reckon regardless of the style of parenting, they secretly wish they never have to take blame for their children’s failures and get some credit for their successes.

Bam-bai: the year that was

Alright. Since I ranted on so much when I moved to Mumbai, it’s only fair that I evaluate and record my thoughts about this hard-to-ignore city now that I have decided to leave it.

One year and my perception remains the same (not!). Have I resigned myself to the unacceptable filth and the sheer number of people the place holds? Not really. Have I acquired the Mumbaikar trait of ignoring all this and getting on with things with the nothing-can-daunt-me attitude? Sort of. Am I going to miss the place?

....

The happy outcome is I don’t at all regret moving to this city. It’s clichéd to say Mumbai is an experience. But only because it’s true. There is no other Indian city that I could have moved to which would have exposed me to a life and lifestyle that was quite a bit different from the one I was used to in my home town of Bangalore.

Delhi is not an option, for obvious reasons (forgive me all ye Dilli loyals), Hyderabad and Chennai aren’t much different from Bangalore, Calcutta – let me not dwell on the other aspects, to start with I wouldn’t have found employment in the city. So Mumbai it was. Once you live in Mumbai, you obviously realise you are not the only one to have made this evaluation of the most eligible city. And that accounts for the hordes and hordes of people, most whom live in the most unimaginable conditions.

Which logically begs the question – why do people do it? Hang precariously from the locals, travel for up to two hours one way to get to work, live in dingy, one room houses in shockingly unhygienic environs? What’s in it for them?

Money money money money and money. The financial independence this city offers, irrespective of the nature of your job, is truly one of its kind. No matter how destitute you are, Mumbai holds the promise of a livelihood for one, for all. It’s arguably the richest city in India, after all.

And not to forget the physical security one enjoys, in addition to the financial one. Unless you have allegiances to the famous world that is under, Mumbai is safer than most cosmopolitan cities. People have no qualms about plonking themselves on the side of desolate streets and camping the night or travelling from “town” to their suburban homes located hours away at any given time of the day or night.

But funnily enough, the city never promises you permanence. Everything is make shift – your home, your grocery store, you laundry wallah and even your job and favourite pub. Things appear and disappear before you bat an eyelid. And that could very well be true of the island of Mumbai itself which hangs precariously amid the sea.

And the biggest advantage of living in a populous city like Mumbai is every locality is self sufficient. A Thanekar has no necessity to visit Bandra unless s/he wants to and a Bandra resident never needs to go to Colaba, unless of course Mondegar calls.

So, in case you haven’t picked up on the signs, my locality is Bandra, most recently that is. I completely loved living here and of course I’m going to miss it sorely. The sheer accessibility of it all – pharmacist, grocer, laundry on call, tons of restaurants and bars lined up with NO deadlines, autos at 1 AM that bring you home for 12-15 bucks and the freedom to wear what you like without drawing attention – oh how I shall miss it all, especially in Bangalore. Much as I love my city, the deadline sure as hell has screwed it up. And of course the autorickshaw guys there are running a cartel.

Sigh....

Now for things I will NOT miss.

FILTH. That comes from the stark poverty you see within five minutes of where ever you are, no matter how swanky the location. And the way it shames you. The sheer economic divide that only seems to be getting worse. People are enticed by Mumbai, they arrive and are willing to do all sorts of menial jobs. So you have real estate being sold at criminal prices while make shift tin homes continue to balloon within 100 feet of the swish apartments.

The WEATHER. Hell, no! That will not be missed! No more fungus growing on your leather bags and jeans.

The TRAFFIC. It’s much worse than Bangalore.

The RENT. I can live like a princess in Bangalore for the amount of money I’m paying to live in Pali Hill.

So there, a fair picture of this insane city. I have learnt a lot from this place, that’s for sure. A silly little jam on Koramangala ring road during rains is not going to be enough to upset me anymore. When you have to be at work by 8 AM no matter how hard it pours and walk back all the way home from work because it'll save you time, you really get on with life. Mumbai has changed my perspective for the better and it’s given me the confidence of being able to survive in any other place!

And since the city has the knack of inspiring extreme emotions, nothing I have said is something that has not been said before. But here’s my love-hate relationship with this city for posterity.

Of late only minor shocks have been inspiring me to write. Not complaining - I could do with any kind of inspiration right now, honestly.

Anyway, it was just another day at the gym last evening when I was chit-chatting (yes, I do that from time to time) with a girl who works out around the same time as I do. Typical getting-to-know-one-and-other conversation until she popped the question:

“Which caste do you belong to?”

Um….I caught myself thinking that this is why I hate chit-chatting. I inhaled and popped right back: “Sorry?”

Bam. The same question again, without batting an eyelid. In all earnestness.

Instead of giving her a piece of my upper caste mind, I told her I belonged to what was considered to be a knowledgeable caste. (I figured I might as well give my caste credit for my expansive knowledge.)

But the real question is what made her ask me that? Why would an educated, aware person (who heads the marketing division in India for a popular international brand, might I add) ask anybody this question? Why indeed? Research, I reckon.

Did she want to make sure I got my caste right in case it is included in the census? Did she have a special list where she told herself that in order to be a secular individual she’d have to befriend a given number of people from all castes, creed and religions?

This has long been a favourite topic of mine. It’s amazing how deep rooted the caste system is in our society. I remember sleeping through most of the social science classes that provided a discourse on this hugely interesting topic. Perhaps that explains my amazement.

Nevertheless, the frequent naps in school notwithstanding, I did manage to understand somewhat that this is a big deal in this country. And like all other “educated” people, I blamed the lack of education for the continued existence of this virtue.

But is that it? Does being educated equate to being free of prejudices? Of course, the educated “class” is far too wise to be that naïve. So why is it still the excuse we use most often?

Just look around you. All of us have prejudices. We all discriminate. But I also think that despite the variety of prejudices, there are some things which are just not acceptable to the majority of the people.

My point is caste doesn’t figure in that list. Despite the shameful history India has when it comes to caste and the fanaticism it generates, educated people too are shackled by it. It’s so commonplace that it doesn’t shock anybody.

The only time people acknowledge it is when the dreaded word reservation crops up (which is once in three to four years, close to or soon after a major election). Parents want to know what caste their kids are marrying into; hell, even school applications require you to mention it. It’s all part of the process.

So are we alright with the process? Should we pause to think why it is still a part of our lives? Or think what we need to do to make sure it isn’t a part of our lives?

On cynical days I tell myself, this is India, what do you expect? On brainstorming days, I think the generations that have already got caste into their system should undergo selective lobotomy (Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind style) so there is no way we can pass on this toxic information to the next generation.

On realistic days, I feel that regardless of the fact that this is India, it has a sizeable population with brains that are largely in working condition and cross my fingers and hope that they will be put to use.

But today is brainstorming day.