What Women Want

Growing up in the 80s and 90s in urban India, I was surrounded by “working women”. They worked all day, often late into the night without early departures, weekends, sick leave (!) or paid holidays. To say work was all-encompassing is an understatement. It covered aspects of the home and hearth, preparing meals, cleaning, caring for children and elderly, running errands for school-goers, attending to tasks for office-goers, arranging schedules for the family and so on. And yet, for society at large, these were “non-working” women, the ones that “stayed at home”. Simply put, the housewives. For all its sophistication and complexities, national income accounting could not devise a simple measure to arrive at any value whatsoever for the contributions of these unrecognized and therefore unpaid workers. As a young, eager student of economics, I learnt about proxy variables. My rigorous training taught me to test out theories about alternatives. But never once did it occur to me then to run a regression using a proxy for women’s participation in the labour force other than the straightforward time series compiled by the ILO year after year! One of the recent economic discourses in this country has been to lament upon the declining share of women in the workforce (going by its traditional definition), while exploring ways to balance out the gender numbers. This implies that those who work “at home” are in fact, not working. The narrative today focuses on the creation of “enabling” environments to encourage mothers to return to the workplace. These include on-site creche facilities, flexible hours, retaining seniority after taking maternity leave, “working from home”, etc., all in an effort to enhance job security for a segment of the child-bearing/working-age population. These policy reforms are certainly welcome for mothers who wish to return to the more formal, i.e. structured labour force after giving birth. However, in effect they also are a disservice to those who choose to stay back to raise their children and run their households. Further, by not acknowledging the vital roles of parents, caregivers and homemakers in the economy, we create an unfortunate and unequal distinction between women going out of the house to work and home workers. It makes these “stay-at-home” unpaid women feel inferior to others who step out and get paid to do so whilst at the same time paying somebody else (ironically, usually other women) to do the jobs at home. Globally, numerous studies have concluded that children who are breastfed for at least the first 12 months are more successful in later years – “success” being a yardstick of how well one does one’s job. Would therefore the provision of this gold standard in nutrition for babies and infants in the early development years be considered a factor of production in the generation of human capital? Some questions come to mind: Why must certain tasks have hidden costs? – be it household chores or childcare which when performed, historically mostly by women, lead to historically, mostly men being “productive” in the workplace. The inherent assumption of taking these tasks for granted and treating them as “free services” creates distortions – what, for example, would happen, if we could assign a fair market value for every job done by a woman at home? Would families become richer? Would countries grow poorer? Who would pay? Would tax-paying citizens and corporations agree to a cash transfer programme benefitting millions of women who would otherwise never receive any form of monetary compensation? Neither is there a single answer, nor is it straightforward. Remunerations are based on numerous factors, and while candidates are assessed thoroughly for jobs they apply to, mothers that work as parents create the job for themselves. They may be from diverse educational backgrounds with varying levels of experience – nobody doing the back-breaking work of a parent can ever claim to be “qualified for the job” – we learn along the way, sometimes the hard way! Which makes compensation even more complicated in this case. But one thing is certain, the welfare of a state is incomplete without a vast chunk of its working-age cohort being included as parts in the sum total. The way forward is to first ask what do women want? Unanimously, the response will be “acknowledgement” further leading to empowerment. Gender equality would be better addressed when there is fundamental universal acceptance that all tasks; whether done at home, or outside, are work. How they collectively contribute to the economy is a computational puzzle; the solution to which is certainly not an impossibility. I certainly didn’t understand it back then; because perhaps the only way to truly comprehend injustice is to face it yourself. 30 years later, it is apparent to me that we are hugely underestimating GDP values by not counting the work done by women. It’s not women’s work; it is the work done by women. And it deserves to be valued, for all it is worth.

The Life of Bai

Chances are, whilst you read this article, there is somebody working quietly in the background, irrespective of your location. It could be your home, your workplace, your neighbourhood café, your gym or the airport lounge. The quiet somebody is “Bai”, a modestly-attired demure lady or one that is employed by a housekeeping organization; her bindi and necklace shining brightly as if to rebel against the dull uniform blues and greys. Chances are, she hasn’t caught a break since the crack of dawn. If she’s lucky, she lives in a room with an attached toilet and bath. But again, chances are she’s had to leave her shanty early to queue up outside the solitary public lavatory in her locality or worse, find a secluded spot in a nearby open field to relieve herself, warding off a lurking evil eye. She’s then had to rush back, fetch water from a common source, cook for the family, get the children ready for school, wash utensils, clothes, and finally; brace herself for the long (under)paid workday ahead. Meanwhile, if there is a spouse or partner in the picture, its likely he’s woken up from a drunken stupor, expected a hot breakfast, a packed tiffin if he’s employed, and cash to fund his day; money that he will claim, no matter the cost. On foot, or sometimes by public transport, Bai reaches the first of likely several establishments that she works at – perhaps quietly hoping for, but never demanding, a small cup of tea and some biscuits. Refreshments, if provided, are usually served in discarded crockery for using a plate from which the employer eats is unimaginable to most. Water she will avoid for as long as possible because in many homes she isn’t permitted to use the bathroom facilities that she, ironically enough, cleans. Her rough, chapped hands reflect the piles of dishes and clothes she’s washed, the several meals she has prepared, the countless rooms she’s swept, dusted and mopped, the caressing of brows of the numerous little ones she’s comforted and cared for. The thinning soles of her inexpensive footwear bear testimony to the endless miles she traverses as she moves on to the next workplace and the next and the next; day after day after day, year after year after year. Bai is one of millions of Indian workers that comprise the informal unskilled sector whose share in the labour force is estimated at a staggering 90 per cent. Their share in the national wealth is roughly only 10 per cent. Bai has no social safety net, nor can she avail any formal sector benefits such as paid / sick time off, maternity “leave”, travel allowance, provident fund. For the most part, she survives on her paltry earnings and on the uncertain and unpredictable generosity and goodwill of her employers. As a member of the “urban poor” community, she is amongst the worse off in the country; without access to clean drinking water, sanitation, health care, a safe haven. Her only asset is perhaps her mobile handset, usually a dated model which she operates using a pre-paid card. A smartphone, if owned, almost certainly goes to the man of the house. In India, it is nearly impossible to disintegrate the social from the economics. The two worlds are intricately inter-twined as is evident in the stark disparity between the disproportionately rich (mostly historically privileged, very small segment of the population) and the countless poor (vast majority). The lack of opportunity at birth leading to a class struggle, fuelled by a divisive, discriminatory yet widely practised caste system only serves to further diminish any real prospect of escaping a life beyond mere survival. This vicious cycle of ‘poverty and inequality’ repeats over generations irrespective of terrain. Bai’s life story is probably no different from what we have already read or heard about - growing up as one of many children in a multi-generational, low-income family and under-developed neighbourhood. Likely born to uneducated, impoverished parents, who make ends meet by undertaking low-paying odd jobs, or working as farm hands / seasonal wage labourers in the villages. She would have been enrolled in school, but in all probability would have left mid-way to help out at home or because there was no money left for her school supplies after paying for the boys’ education. Against this grim backdrop, she would have been “married off” in her teenage years, for she would be considered a burden, another mouth to feed. Uninformed of family planning options or too scared to use any birth control, she would have quickly experienced her first couple of pregnancies and low birth-weight deliveries without adequate ante-natal care or consequence. Does she dare to dream - of not letting her daughter go through what she did? Of equipping her daughter with tools to create an independent life for herself before giving birth to another? Of teaching her daughter to put her foot down? The only possible equalisers across our vast, complex nation in this scenario are long-term education, quality skills training and ‘good jobs’ leading to a meaningful addition to the domestic income/savings/investments model and thereby contributing to the growth story. ‘Trickle down’ of a boom period is sluggish at best but during a slowdown or unprecedented shocks; the rural economy is hit the hardest, making recovery hopelessly difficult. Women’s Day will come and go – but as employers of this cheap, exploited labour, we must commit to securing the future of our Bai and her family. In her progress alone lies ours, perhaps more importantly, that of our conscience and collective well-being.

A day at the beach

She caught my eye, as I scanned from behind my oversized sun hat and shades, the calm morning waves of the Arabian Sea. Really, what else does one do after a scrumptious breakfast on a holiday in Goa? A young girl, dressed, if oddly for the beach, walking briskly, her flat, rubber slippers making their way with purpose, through the washed-up filth on the sand. Slicked black hair, pulled neatly back into a fat braid, flowers for adornment, a modest, yet bright traditional Indian outfit, the salwar kameez, with its dupatta tied in a knot over one hip and pinned in place on the opposite shoulder. A thin, plastic bracelet on each arm and the look was complete. She carried a small blue bottle and with a broad grin came over to where I was lounging under the cool palm trees while watching the kids build up and break down their sand castles. "Massage, Didi?", she asked, "say yes, you will feel so relaxed. I will rub your feet, I have oil. Discount for couples and children". It all tumbled out, almost too rehearsed, her earnest sales pitch. I refused politely, somewhat firmly, switched on my trained deadpan look used to dealing with roadside / traffic light vendors, selling mostly useless flavours-of-the-week. She pleaded "it’s already 9 am Didi but I haven’t earned anything", and in a moment, the little ones joined the chorus, "we've never seen a massage Mumma!" (and for good reason, I remind them). Another glance at her cheerful face and I resigned myself to accepting her offer. She sat down quickly and softly, no mat. I gave her my cushion, she smiled shyly and said she wasn't supposed to touch anything that belonged to the beachfront properties. In fact, she explained, she wasn't meant to be seen or heard. She was persona non grata in Goa. A 20-minute foot rub turned into a game of 20 questions. Where are you from? Who brought you here? She's one of many, I learnt. From rural drought-prone Karnataka, a neighbouring state. A sad, hard existence, with illiteracy and poverty as its pillars. Accompanied an aunt to Goa shortly after coming of age and ended up staying with her, training to supplement the meagre earnings of her landless, yet, agriculture-dependent family, burdened with too many children, dealing with the absence of safety nets and enduring a vicious cycle of economic and social challenges. She was pulled out of her village school early to help look after her younger siblings, she couldn't read English or Hindi and could only do basic arithmetic. Like counting her earnings at sunset. Her co-worker joined her a few minutes later, abruptly breaking our conversation, and narrated the same story. They start their day early, getting themselves dressed in a room they share with at least 5 or 6 other adults, finish household chores, whip up a meal and set off to earn their daily bread. They aren't protected by a worker's union, they have no rest areas, no access to restrooms. No water or food while they work the beach. While we sip on our cocktails and coconut water concoctions. They have to fight off the police who claim they are stealing jobs from local youth. Yet, it’s this protector of the people that will, week after week, extort commissions from these and other migrant labourers against the threat of lock-ups, beatings or worse. She has to push away customers demanding more than a massage. Above all, she had to brush aside the exploitation, the harassment, the gender biases that defined her workday – had she succumbed to any of these, she couldn’t make a living. I find my toes curling up at the lack of dignity, at the lack of sensitivity, at the lack of opportunity and equality. She has no time for dreams or desires. When she goes back to her town during the monsoon (off season in coastal Goa), she has to help out with farming activities there. She knows she has a small window to earn and save, if at all, - turn 18 (possibly earlier) and she will be married (off), she will have no choice but to bear heirs and as a young mother, it will be frowned upon for her to spend her day rubbing the legs and arms of scantily clad men and women. I probe her for more. How much do you make in a month? Do you have a bank account? Do you have an Aadhaar card? The nonchalance of her responses makes me uncomfortable. She isn't permitted to stake a claim on her hard-earned money. There are debts - her father who has to pay the aunt for taking his daughter under her wing, the landlord who permitted her to stay in a rent-free shanty when she first arrived in Goa, cuts for hotel staff for allowing her to solicit clients in their premises, the list is endless. She stared at the notes I gave her - what she asked for and then a few more - "Advance for tomorrow's session, didi?" she seemed optimistic. No, no, I said, this is for you, buy yourself something. Her eyes thanked me, and in a blink, she was gone. Just like that. As we snaked in and out of lush landscapes in Goa, Maharashtra and Karnataka while driving back to Pune after a sublime week by the seaside, I remembered her frequently. Why are the trappings of modern, urban living which, with all its faults, so far removed from the realities of rural hardships? Only a fortnight later, one evening in early November as I watched our PM launch his surgical strikes on black money, the parallel economy and its links to terrorism, I thought instantly of my Goan wonder-girl. What will she do tomorrow? Who will protect her? She, like millions in our country, are daily wage earners, with no nest-egg to fall back on. Victims and perpetrators of a cash-only system, which was shot down, overnight. Demonetization, at worst, is an inconvenience for me. My passive patriotism extends to not joining queues for cash withdrawal and encouraging my neighbourhood grocery stores to switch to digital payments. The “go-cashless” model, banking reforms and systemic overhaul will be implemented in due course, so I can only hope that she has found a way to face this hurdle and tide over it in the short to medium term, all while being at the mercy of the cash-strapped tourist on a break, from it all. The bottle of oil which she carries with her had a picture of a parachute on it. How ironic - will it liberate her?

"Dopiaza..

is currently unavailable". So said a sign outside a popular restaurant in town, it was reported recently. This preparation, a favourite with locals and tourists alike, now lacks its essence. Pakoras at the roadside tea stall are now being made from everything but onions. Bhuna masala at dhabas have been re-created by increasing the quantity of tomatoes or substituting the common-man's once humble food "pyaz" with mooli (as if!)

That onion prices have sky-rocketed is not news. I purchased a kilo for Rs. 25 back in November and paid Rs. 75 for the same quantity a week ago. Tears could have been shed, without even having taken a knife to the darned veggie!

Food price inflation is high (13.6% at the end of December, YoY), driven largely by price hikes of non-cereal commodities, viz. fruits, vegetables, milk, eggs/meat. So what's going on? The spurt in onion prices is largely blamed on non-seasonal late monsoon showers, which destroyed the harvest and caused a severe supply crunch. Add to that, large amounts have been hoarded for speculative purposes by various entities. In a knee-jerk reaction, the central government banned onion exports and removed import tariffs, hoping that the root vegetable brought over from neighbouring countries, especially Pakistan would somehow get to the root of the problem between our nations and attempted, in vain, to play the diplomatic trump card.

However, has this really affected the average urban Indian consumer? For those of us who order take-out, how many have we switched from buying the Rs. 300 pizza to saving the amount for a few kilos of onions? Or even from spending half that amount on a tub of popcorn at the movies? Yet, its the urban middle class consumer who will make the biggest hue and cry about rising costs while the brunt of the crisis yet again is borne by those living a rather meager existence.

Agriculture’s value-add to the economy now stands at a dismal 17%, but around two-thirds of our labour force is still engaged in the sector, which means that and a significantly large proportion of our 250 million households rely upon agriculture income as their primary source of livelihood.

This begs for a more distributed, widespread and even impact of public policy rather than it being targeted at a select few, who don’t necessarily need the help. It calls for a more preventative approach to better managing agriculture produce in the country, and avoiding temporary ‘reactionary’ solutions every time the rain Gods decide to unleash their fury upon us. It calls for improving existing infrastructure networks, scaling up investment and technological advancements, removing regulatory bottlenecks in the market and building and strengthening value chains for our farmers.

Remember, you reap what you sow.

Winter and why I love Delhi

Dah-lee mein seaons hote hain, Madamji (Delhi has seasons, Ma'am) the snobbish shop assistant proclaimed when I asked him for a cotton dupatta to match my paisley printed, light-coloured, cotton kurta. Instead, he proceeded to show me a vast range of beautiful pashminas. And, he hastened to add, such prints don't work during winter - stick to solid colours and bold lines and you will be fine. This was a couple of years ago. Now I know better. The seasons he was referring to are broadly two: Diwali to Holi and reverse, which includes a stuffy monsoon period as well. Post Diwali, you put away your cottons and muslins and bring out the woollies and the silks. In Sarojini Nagar market, depending on how the roadside vendor assesses your level of "cool-ness", you are offered socks or stockings. In Dilli Haat, Kashmir and HP artisans are the flavours of the season..exhibiting their gorgeous stoles / shawls / carpers and other winter accessories and crafts. Then there's adrak-waali chai, flavourful shorbas and hearty soups. 'Nuff said?

So folks, its that time of the year. The raat-ki-raani was in bloom just recently and dogs, big or small, desi or videsi, have started wearing sweaters while trotting about the city (only the finest Burberry will do, mind you, for our fashion-conscious residents and their pooches). Weather-wise, winter is just so delightful in Delhi. There are a host of free concerts in the park and several theatre and dance festivals. Over the past month or so, SK and I have been eating out on the terrace a lot before the real chill sets in and we're forced to flee indoors (SK will be fleeing inside a lot earlier than I, the So-Cal guy that he is :-)). A thin envelope of fog (actually a dust-smoke haze, the pessimist in me cries out!) greets us in the mornings now, soon to be the cause of a lot of trouble at the airports and railway stations. For all the technology and highly-skilled trained staff that airlines claim to have, they still can't seem to figure this one out. Come December and hundreds of flights will be delayed, our preparedness will be questioned and yet, nothing much will change. It simply baffles me, this ineptitude to deal with what truly harsh, winter-stricken parts of the world would label a 'minor inconvenience'. True, North America also has its airport-shutdown days and Siberia might witness quite a few disruptions, but nothing on the scale of what we have come to embrace as part of this otherwise glorious weather pattern.

It is Atithi Devo Bhavo time - when we welcome tourists from all over the globe, charge them unthinkable sums of money for a night in the city or on the fringes of a national park for a glimpse of the elusive big cat. All glory to them. And finally, its another special kind of season in India...that which signals the impending arrival of its foreign-resident, homeward-bound people (NRIs). Hoards and hoards of them (I too, was one such specimen, until recently) zipping from one end of the city / country to another, squeezing in yet another visit with yet another relative or friend or buying that last souvenir in the hopes that the luggage will not give way. My mother said once: NRIs yeti ghara, toch Diwali-Dasara

Flying economy

He flew economy. Not business. With 250 "dhando-people" in tow, America's salesman-in-chief (as Obama has been described recently) flew in the US economy in a desperate (?) bid to win over the hub of outsourcing. How the mighty fall!

The Obamas made Mumbai their first stop, not a bad move, considering the maximum city is the economic and financial capital of India. Some might even say that the stock market's Diwali mahurat trading bonanza of 21k+ was, in no small measure, attributable to the potential gains from trade that Obama was rumoured to bring along with him.

However, as Indians, most of us like the Republicans more, I suspect, what with their low-taxation and free-trade policies. So Obama's more restrictive approach, if you will, is all well and good for the American rhetoric, but here, he sang a different tune. Within hours of landing, he signed deals with billions of dollars (sold us a lot of fighter jets, watch out, neighbours?), claiming to generate 50,000 jobs back in the States, boost bilateral trade and open doors to more and greater opportunities for our people. Does India really need to trade with the United States? While India's annual GDP growth (largely fueled by growing domestic demand) is in the 8-9% range, the US economy is only growing at about 2%. But we like the products that American make (market); from cheap consumer electronics to fancy educational degrees. Why the US claims to need India as a major trading partner is still a bit of a mystery. Its trade deficit is still pitted against only China's capacity to manufacture and supply extremely cheap goods in tremendous volumes, year after year.

As is customary, we went a tad overboard with our hospitality - what with the traditional welcome being accorded by PYTs dressed as brides of India, the finest camels and horses on display at Rashtrapati Bhavan (err, why?), the lavishness of the meals, the PM enveloping Obama in a great bear-hug at the airport (what a nightmare for protocol sticklers!), the Obamas being forced to Bhangra their way from Mumbai to Delhi and so on. Hopefully it provided a wee bit bit of distraction to the visiting dignitaries who are probably still smarting from a resounding mid-term loss of the House and barely managing to hold on to the Senate.

Finally, a note to Michelle Obama's on her choice of clothing on which more was written than the politics of diplomacy in the past few days. Please don't bring your drab greens and greys and utterly shapeless outfits over to India again. We like people of and with colour. Outsource the wardrobe - you know the drill.

Spoil-sport

A little over a week ago, 2010's biggest sporting (?) extravaganza came to an end. A spectacular finish for India, with over a hundred medals and the 2nd spot in the overall rankings.

The 19th Common Wealth Games (CWG) which, for most of this year, drew much criticism from within the country and outside for shoddy preparations, later seemed to transform Delhi during their 12-day run in the capital. Embroiled in controversy, CWG was badly hit by the erratic late monsoon pattern, poor construction, petty bickering, conflicting (hidden) agendas; all resulting in seemingly-endless delays. But a mad dash to a brilliant opening ceremony (thankfully, without Bollywood in tow) set the tone for the remainder of the event.

Never has Delhi witnessed so much discipline on the roads! Stern-looking security guards at every street corner ensured it became a fortress, albeit a gorgeous one. Delhi's famous green cover too shone and aerial shots of Lutyen's zone reversed much of the damage done to its reputation over the past few months. CP's gleaming white pillars and buildings proudly displayed their decades-old heritage, beautifully blending into modern-day Rajiv Chowk, with its hi-tech underground Metro hub.

While the Games passed off peacefully, were sportsmanship and fair play ever in the minds of the Organizing Committee (OC) / Delhi Govt. / Sports Ministry / misc other (important) officials who were entrusted with the responsibility of conducting this grand event? Its a given now that there was rampant corruption and blatant abuse of power at every level and as investigations get underway, we are subjected to mud-slinging fests and blame games. Such a pity!

On a positive note, a huge round of applause for our sports women and men who brought us laurels in an international (non-cricketing) arena. Lets hope the new generation of Delhi and indeed, the rest of the country, view sports in a new light and work towards greater goals. Lets hope also that the stadia and other training facilities built in and around Delhi serve to hone the skills of this new talent and encourage more youngsters to take up sport professionally. Lets finally hope that the CWG mess doesn't spoil the country's future in sport.

Of Cast(e) Offs and Hand-me-downs

This is a really difficult piece to write, partly because I still haven't entirely figured out my own thoughts on the subject and partly because at many levels I stubbornly refuse to mutely accept the forced chains of tradition with regard to lineage and rights.

In an earlier post I wrote about the need to include one's caste in the ongoing census in India. To me, it was simple: if you want to integrate marginalized and excluded communities (solely as defined by our unique caste system) into "mainstream" economic channels and social activities, how will you identify who they are? How will you ensure that the real deserving and needy get access to special economic schemes and opportunities targeted at them? And so I saw a self-reported caste count as a step toward better ‘identification’ of these oppressed groups. But this issue on caste in the census has unfolded like a can of worms and its likely going to derail the development process with its endless debates and disruptions. Whether or not we should promote inclusive long-term and sustainable development on the basis of caste, creed, gender or religion is another matter (for the record, its one that I do not agree with - I only support a society built on the strength of its human resource with investments in their future and creation of opportunities for all, irrespective of the origins of its people). The fact however is, in our country, we hail reservations (affirmative action), the women's reservation bill, creations of new and further sub-divisions of existing religious groups and other such exercises undertaken periodically. We also routinely discriminate on the basis of one's geographical origin (“she's from there”, eyes rolled), skin colour (I get aggravated by the numerous skin lightening products in the market, more so when promoted by supposedly leading figures from the entertainment world – get real, people!) as if those parameters in themselves should demarcate any person from the rest of us. And could women in India please put an end to believing that white = good marriage proposal/ good job/good life? Seriously. That would give these overnight wonder white products a run for their money.

So what is caste? Is it merely a statement of the occupational and hierarchical heritage handed down to us by our ancestors? Is it a reflection of our DNA? Both? Neither? Why can’t caste be replaced with economic parameters? Are the recent violent khap panchayat diktats handed out on any scientific understanding of the situation or are they (yet another) form of bullying by mostly male members of two consenting adults who choose to live together and/or marry? When we automatically spew out our caste (known to us only anecdotally any way), do we care to understand if it is relevant in our lives? I’m interested in knowing more about the origins of this system and its intended functions, limitations. What upsets me is if somebody says that a warrior’s son can only be a warrior and cannot convert. I cannot change unless I marry somebody from a different caste and then have to ‘automatically’ assume his caste (or everybody around me assumes it on my behalf!). This is so outdated what with many married women (including myself) not taking their husbands names and families becoming more and more nuclear, a little less focused on what was and a little more focused what we will be.

A few words on religion (this, by the way, is intrinsically linked to caste in our great nation). I’ll stick to Hinduism, that’s what I was initiated into from childhood. Why don’t some of our temple authorities allow certain sections of our society to enter their premises? Faith is faith – is it any different when coming from a dark-skinned individual or a ‘supposedly’ low caste child or women in general? (I say supposedly because I will not adhere to this pre-determined grading system). Temple donations are not indicative of one’s belief; in fact, there are hundreds who give simply in the spirit of giving out of the glare of media. I always thought that temple priests were the epitome of cleanliness and wisdom, symbolizing the word “sacred”. So what/who allows them to show up at work unkempt, filthy-mouthed, blatantly abusing the power vested in them? Who allows them to push around devotees because they can’t be bothered to put in overtime on a busy day? What prevents more women from taking this up as a profession? The deep-rooted exclusion which is ever-present, yet, which we pretend doesn’t exist. Too much needs to change, and quickly.

I’ll sign off with the hope that during the next census round, I’ll be interviewed by a lady who has broken all stereotypes: she’s dark-skinned and overcome obstacles both financially and socially, she’s educated and gone ahead and she’s cast off any doubts that one might have about her aptitude or knowledge. She drinks water from a glass that I would use. I hope that irrespective of my response to her question of caste; she allows herself to consider me as an equal, an Indian.

Customer Service

In India, we have helplines for just about everything. Namashkar, mera naam .... hai, mein aaj aapki kaise sahayata kar sakta(i) hoon? My name is .... how may I help you today? Friendly, pleasant and polite enough. And that's where it ends. Before it even began! I am exhausted by the sheer amount of time and energy (not to mention, money) wasted in dealing with this first line of customer service executives who mean well but are able to help very little in real, substantive terms. Picture this: Me "I'd like some help please in locating my credit card, the courier company says they're unable to deliver it because of an incorrect address provided by you. I don't know the card number since its a new card. Could you trace it by the name of card holder?” Him "Sure, ma'am, what is the CC number? I need the number to proceed" Needless to say, its a fairly pointless dialogue and unless escalated to the level of the supervisor, a lost cause. And its not just credit card companies - this happens with mobile phone service providers, cable guys, public utilities, private banks and so on. The unwillingness, probably stemming from a deficiency in capacity, to grasp a customer's problem and instead rattle off a series of verification questions or worse still so-called problem-solving techniques which are in no way related to your query is incredibly frustrating and unproductive.

For the past 5 days now, I have been trying to get Tata Sky to repair what I think is a minor glitch with the recording function of my TiVo box. After all, how serious can it be if I understand the issue without any training whatsoever in the field of digital transmission and storage of content over satellite? (SK, you will be proud :-)) Service engineers have waltzed in and out of our apartment, set-top boxes have been changed, wires have been ripped out and furious exchanges with team leads at the other end of a phone line have followed, all to no avail. Why not? Because, we as Indians, do not analyse the problem. This is not taught to us in school. What we are taught instead is to memorize solutions (seriously!), blurt them all out and hope that one of them will be the correct answer. Sadly, not.

Since liberalization in 1991/92, we have been promoting our economy as services-oriented, a haven for outsourcing with a focus on large pools of a cheap, English-speaking labour force. To make this model sustainable and profitable in the long-run, we simply cannot ignore a focus on the quality of training imparted to this labour and equally importantly, on the quality of service which they provide. When the West talks about frustration in dealing with Indian staff, lets for a minute, forget about their underlying distaste for our accent and possibly appearance and address another issue here: that of the utter lack of problem-solving aptitude which is all-too-apparent within the first few minutes of getting into a conversation with a helpline agent. Do organizations not lose huge sums of money if every single case is taken up with a mid-level manager? What then, besides benching, is the purpose of hiring hoards of little or badly-trained junior staff? This is employment generation and retention at its worst. Companies often complain that newly-recruited staff is not employable, i.e. the training they bring from their education institutions is so ill-suited to the demands of a real work environment, that they “spend” millions on (re)building this workforce. But I believe that to create a truly skilled worker, they need to “invest” and invest well.

On the Tata Sky front, the manager is now going to come over and attempt to fix the problem. If that too fails, Aamir Khan and Gul Panag, you will be subpoenaed. Stay tuned.

Monsoon Magic and Water Woes

The first spell of the southwest monsoon (ver. 2010) rains hit South India a few days ago. Mira Nair made this very special season famous with her heartwarming movie "Monsoon Wedding" - but nothing beats the experience of being caught in a downpour for the very first time after a scorching, unforgiving summer! The earth comes back to life with a heady fragrance of the raindrops hitting the dry mud. Birds chirp away: the cuckoo bird, the mayna bird, the parakeet, all vying for attention as SK and I sip our morning tea on the terrace. Leaves glisten in the sunlight while squirrels run up and down on the tree trunks chasing each other and steering clear of the stray kitty hiding in the bushes. Then there's monsoon food (naturally). Kanda bhajees (for all Punekars out there, atop Sinhagad where the best ones are to be had!) and piping hot momos with thukpa, at Dilli Haat in Dilli. Also, romantic bread-wine-cheese evenings indoors listening to soothing strains of melodious music while watching the rain fall. Or outdoors grabbing a quick bite at the hastily put up food stall with hard-to-resist samosas and jalebis! 'Nuff said.

Last month, I hopped over to Guwahati in Assam, where the northeast monsoon had already started. I don't know anything about this region except what I studied in geography class way back in high school but just the drive from the airport made me want to move there. Lush green landscapes, misty skies, lofty mountain tops and genuinely cool breeze. Little rivers of fresh rainwater were being formed all around me. Its then that I wondered, what happens to it? Do we just allow it to drain off into the soil? Although the northeast gets a got deal of rain every year, paradoxically, it faces a severe clean water shortage, I was told. Not surprisingly then, I saw houses with pipes running across the lengths of their roofs collecting rainwater and emptying it in tubs below for future consumption. How do we go from being a state of want to a state of plenty? What we need is a change in our mindset and a change in our behavior as well, i.e. to save when we have plenty so we aren't caught scrambling in times of dire need.

What is unacceptable is that while parts of our country are flooded annually, there are vast areas which go without water for years on end. Even more criminal is seeing utter wastage of water during transportation - more often than not, water tankers in Delhi have ill-fitting or no caps. As a result, you could practically give yourself a good hose-down if you manage to ride behind one of these tankers as they make their way on somewhat-bumpy roads to quench the thirst of thousands of denizens who queue for hours for a single bucketful of water. Just the sight of children and the elderly all lined up in the afternoon heat should be enough to make us demand that we have better maintained tankers and better enforcement of water utilization. But how many of us bother to get our private water tanks serviced regularly so that they don’t overflow from the morning water supply provided by the authorities? How many of us pay our water bills on time, if at all? Do we care, even for minute, if we don’t face the problem? The pervasive culture in Delhi (and I suspect across many cities in India) is to avoid paying the government even a penny wherever possible and yet complain about the lack of public utilities in the system. Making a large purchase (consumer durables / jewellery / others) and then insisting on a fake receipt or a cash payment – so we don’t pay VAT and the shopkeeper is only too happy to comply since he / she doesn’t need to get books audited and can in turn pay lower taxes. Do we have any justification for complaining about bad roads if we don’t pay road taxes? Ditto with water and electricity consumption.

On a larger scale, we need ways to use (and harvest) water more efficiently. I’ve read that notable efforts (water harvesting, recycling) are already being undertaken by various stakeholders, including large hotel chains and corporations. In the agriculture sector, one such example is SRI or the system of rice intensification methodology for increasing the productivity of irrigated rice cultivation by changing the management of plants, soil, water and nutrients, in turn leading to major water savings.

This is the biggest investment we can make for ourselves and future generations. Save a drop today for an ocean tomorrow.

Gaon Ki Gori

Does India live in its villages? Does asking this question 62 years after Independence make its rural economy  and population more relevant? No, sadly, it doesn't very much. But the village definitely has potential. What lives in the villages is India's massive votebank. Repeatedly abused, often ignored and rampantly (mis)used. A recently released study by the McKinsey Global Institute (MGI) looks at infrastructure, governance and other challenges facing India's cities and metros and proposes, amongst other policy reforms, a sweeping overhaul of the way cities are managed (including appointing CEOs and the like) and pumping in massive amounts of funding to make them ready for the 590 million-odd people that will reside in them by 2030. A detailed analysis of the migration from the village to the city or the semi-urban area, an all-too-common phenomenon for lack of opportunities/growth prospects/survival mechanisms in the villages linking it to such studies will go a long way in addressing these critical issues.

However, as much as I am a city gal (skyscrapers do make my head spin and Lutyen's Delhi has spoiled me beyond words), my heart and sanity to a large extent are beginning to need a regular infusion of the gaon. There's a purity in the air there that cities cannot match. I am not just referring to the weather but to attitudes as well. Depending on one's definition of quality of life, I'd say, its so much better in many rural areas than in our cities! Yes, its difficult to get power and water a lot of the times. And many village folk do not have access to basic services including primary health care centres, toilets, banking, grocery stores. But the food always tastes nicer, people are kinder and gentler, there's plenty of greenery (in most parts), lots of animals and beautiful birds, a sky full of bright stars. So the gaon also gives me a sense of hope. One day, I hope to muster up the courage to spend an extended period of time there (I still fall prey to the city's offerings: pools and nice roads, nice cars, shopping) and in the process learn about the way villagers lead their lives, with respect for the environment, in today's concrete, urban-centric world.

Yatra, Zimbly Zouth

My cousin recently hinted that I needed to blog a lot more on my travels than wax eloquent on the state of the nation. S, I'll oblige, quite happily! Work took me to Andhra Pradesh (AP) and Tamil Nadu (TN) last month - yes, yes, I know, *not* the best time. But heat and humidity notwithstanding, it was a very 'warm' visit.

Traveling across India is a fairly unique experience: its at once overwhelming, overcrowded  (for the most part) and at times overbearing. However, what's omnipresent is a sense of genuine hospitality and belonging; right from the humble village lady who offered us a home-cooked meal to the luxury hotel staff who went out of their way to make us comfortable. It didn't matter that I had not visited those regions earlier or that I spoke neither of the local languages...there's a familiarity in the everyday surroundings and happenings: from the ubiquitous chaiwallah to the coconut seller to the barber in his makeshift workspace on the pavement to the utterly unproductive task of a municipal corporation employee sweeping away at a busy street intersection (the Rozgar Yojana on display, if you will) to the numerous street dogs who just know the perfect spot to catch a nap on a hot and dusty afternoon to mothers everywhere hurriedly ferrying their children to the school auto / bus and back home.

Then there's comfort food. As much as I adore my ceviche, injeras, sushi and prosciutto with melon, this I will confess: bad Indian food is still way better than bad food anywhere else. Maybe its the intoxicating aroma of the cooking oil and ghee or the fact that most of us live to eat. Or just the fact that for a vast majority of the population, there is still no substitute to actually cooking a meal from scratch. It unites strangers (picture a roadside dhaba where truckers congregate to break bread after a long day), it brings family together, even provides fodder for budding romance! Even I, who do not normally enjoy a meal of rice, tucked into the Hyderabadi biryani, the bisi bele bhaath and curd rice with gusto on this trip. I suppose, in India, there's comfort in food.

Although we didn't spend much time in either of the metros Hyderabad or Chennai, I liked what little I saw. Hyderabad has a spectacular new airport with a very efficient connector toll road to take you right into the city. For years, most roads in South India have been better than those in other states and the newer highways are built like international roadways. Now if we could only find a way and a reason to clear the filth and garbage at a macro level, our cities would look so much more presentable and would definitely be more 'livable'. Chennai feels like an older city, with a stronger colonial hangover than Hyderabad and quite different from the Rajdhani with its brashness and over-the-top show-and-pomp requirements. In many ways it reminded me of Pune - the traditional stronghold that one senses and sees - mogra gajraas, silk sarees (yes, indeed, even in 40c+ weather), the many old (Anglo) colleges and educational institutions, lots of female drivers on the roads and sadly, horrendous traffic patterns.  Disclaimer: I do not wish to imply that there is any correlation whatsoever between the gender of the driver and the utter lack of traffic structure :-)

I need to write more about my visits to the rural areas in the states...next post on this for sure!

Each One Teach One

We've all probably heard these before....each one, teach one / when you educate a man, you educate a person; when you educate a woman, you educate a family. Well, after seeing so many rural women in India get trained on basic writing and math skills and in turn getting more empowered and self-confident and taking charge of their household finances and other key decisions in the past few months, I've been meaning to attempt the same within my own little community. Yesterday, out of the blue, my cleaning lady asked me simply, is today the 30th? I replied in the affirmative and then asked her if she knew whether this month had 31 days or not. She didn't have a clue! So I decided that this was the moment for me. My moment to teach one and I thought I should get her started with reading numbers and interpreting a calendar.

As an aside, I refrain from calling her my "maid" because she is so much more..she's one of the first persons I meet most mornings: a hardworking young Bengali lady, unfailingly punctual, honest and trustworthy, with a smile on her face and genuine affection for our cats (yes, that is very important :-)), ready to start her job, sadly, for not a whole lot of money. In spite of paying her  'significantly above-market' fees, praising her for her work and offering her paid leave (much to the chagrin of some of my neighbours, who chided me for 'spoiling' her), I still think we vastly underpay our hired help. Too much supply? Perhaps. That's only because of the lack of opportunities in the regions of their origins. I suspect I learn a little bit from her everyday - about tolerance, humility and living within one's means. About being calm in the face of adversity and sharing joys and sorrows. Maybe she's actually the teacher and I the student.
Back to my role as the teacher. Why the humble calendar? Its a ready reckoner for so many possibilities. I would like her to keep track of her own monthly activities, income and expenses, important dates and events. I want her to create milestones for herself and her family, which she can then record. I wish I could get her to remember her birthday, but that, unfortunately, is not a day worth taking note of for her or countless others like her. She tells me she's probably around 35 and already a grandmother of an 18-month old boy. That's right, its the same old story: she was married off at 14, became a mother at 16 and has repeated the cycle with her own daughter. I want her to eventually manage her own time and not be a slave to the demands of everybody else on her time.

Today is May 1st and its celebrated as Labour Day in India. So I will dedicate this post to all our hired help who make life so very easy for us and to hired help everywhere. May they get all the dignity they deserve.

Cricket's Chump Change...

....this is not. Fact: IPL is valued at over $4 billion (to put things in perspective, that amounts roughly to half of the government's allocation to NREGA or equals its outlay to agriculture and allied activities this fiscal year, more on that in another post). Two new franchises, Pune and Kochi, are worth more than the original 8 teams put together. Admittedly, Kochi's fate is now on a sticky wicket and murky(ier) details of the deal are expected in coming days. Unfortunately, the numbers involved are so large that nobody is going to give up without a fight and several third umpires will be called upon to reach a settlement. Kings XI Punjab is up for grabs at..hold your breath....$300 million! Every franchise is set to make a profit of Rs. 25 crores (over $5 million) at the end this season. Not surprisingly then, barely 3 years old, some look upon IPL as a major corporate entity, the kind that draws attention from around the world. SK told me that major basketball leagues in the US are valued at several hundreds of millions of dollars, however the NBA is a well-established, long-running institution in its own right, it has been built and strengthened over several years and when "in season", is the cause of major grief (for me) owing to its all-pervasive nature: TV, streaming over broadband, chat fora, etc. etc.

I'm quite convinced that this is a bubble. IPL is on a high only because of the financial backing they have (thus far) from business houses, Bollywood biggies (admittedly a debatable tag) and the like. However, it has a weak foundation of new and emerging talent. They are fortunate to have some of cricket's best (err..old) players currently playing across all teams, but there's scant attention being given to developing a talent pool that we can draw from in the coming years. Hayden, Gilchrist, Jayasuriya, Ganguly have been off-colour for the most part and newer players exhibit more style in their hair than in their stroke play and swing/spin.

Where is fair play in all of this? I was quite excited when the IPL was launched back in 2008, it was an Indian brand that overseas players wanted to be associated with. We finally didn't need to show off the odd English county association. It commanded credibility and attention. Modi and company (MAC for lack of a better acronym) need to be (re)told the story of the hare and the tortoise. The Tatas and Birlas and Ambanis certainly didn't build their empires in a day and its a lesson MAC would do well to heed. IPL shouldn't crumble like the Kotla pitch, but its repute is on a downhill slope and it can redeem itself only by focusing on the sport, not just the game.

BCCI, with its bursting coffers, can well afford to take a step back to reevaluate and redesign its long term association and strategy with IPL. Also ,what this controversy should lead to is a tightening of the bidding and selection process through enhanced transparency and accountability, i.e. good governance. It needs to serve also as a warning when there comes a time to launch another major sporting league in the country. IPL must be saved, if nothing, then for giving us a reason to turn on the idiot box every evening after work and watch the United Nations of the cricket world converge on a level playing field.

East and West

What a great weekend! The lazy kind with a movie date night and al fresco dining and lots of cricket. I still cannot get over how 'posh' cinema halls have become in India. Multiplexes with fancy food counters (hot dogs with mustard..since when did mustard replace chutney, and more importantly perhaps, why?), ushers, unbelievably comfortable seats, Dolby surround sound and so on. All this with a hefty price tag..Rs. 530 for 2 tickets. In real terms, that's about 12 USD, and possibly $25 in PPP terms. Not cheap by any measure. The average urban middle-class Indian spends a significant portion of disposable income on such evenings, in addition to expenses on food and drink.

If we could move so far ahead in setting up and embracing this spanking new movie viewing experience, how about changing our mindset and subsequently our behaviour a little bit? Its really a pet peeve with me. In recent times, I have never watched a film in India without being disturbed by the incessant phone ringing that goes on in the hall. Followed by either obnoxiously loud chatter or the hasty whisper "mein cinema mein hoon, baad mein  phone karta hoon"...err, seriously? Worse still, you politely ask somebody to zip it and they respond with a  standard 'amagancy hai'.  Aarrggghhh. Whatever happened to common decency? Its getting better though...the last time, a lady was actually reprimanded by her fellow movie goers for yapping away. We saw Hurt Locker which opened here this past weekend. I enjoyed it, but didn't really think of it as a film, its more in the docu-drama category. That was my 'West fix' for the day. Funny how my Hollywood connection is getting weaker and weaker - the last time I watched an English movie (Inglorious Basterds with the brilliant Brad Pitt) was last October. Its Bollywood with a Bang these days. When in da Rome, do the Romans :)

We tried out a relatively new restaurant 'Emperor's Kitchen' for dinner. The name conjured up mouthwatering images of steaming, light dimsums, scented jasmine rice, duck curry, green tea. Whoever said location is everything knew what they were talking about. Its in the green and quiet 'Mahrauli' neighbourhood with the Qutab Minar for company. We got a table in the courtyard right by a giant TV screen beaming the Mumbai Indians / Rajasthan Royals game. Unfortunately, the menu turned out to be more Thai than Chinese (I love Thai food, but Thai High is an excellent restaurant in the same locality for this cuisine!). Decent appetizers, mediocre entrees, lovely dessert (you can't go very wrong with creme brulee). The service was almost too eager to please. India has come a long way since our Veg-Nonveg-Mughlai-Chinese phase and the dining scene in Delhi is indeed second to none, but this place needs more work. The lamb was perfect in bits but chewy and rubbery in others. And the rice..can we please get over our Basmati fixation when pairing it with exotic non-Indian dishes? It just doesn't click. But my 'East fix' wasn't all bad; our drinks were refreshing and it was a fun couple of hours. I love watching people and post 9.00 pm is the time when Dilli ke dilwale step out in all their finery. Mummy, Papa, Bua, Tauji, Chachu, little Chintu, Bunty, etc. etc. One BIG happy family. There's a lot of wealth in this city and people aren't afraid to flaunt it. The Mercedes C class, parked next to the BMW which was next to the Audi Q7 all bore testimony to this fact. East and West converged that evening, proof that we are riding the wave of change.

Education and the Public Good

Two announcements were made recently. The first (in chronological order), to allow foreign universities to set up campuses in India (University of California at Panipat, anyone?) and the second, the Right to Education (RTE) Act, whereby all children aged 6-14 can avail free and compulsory education. Two plans, initially aimed for two completely different groups, the haves and the have-nots. But I think the beauty of this is that should RTE take off (and by that I mean, have long term impacts, e.g. probable changes in the composition of our labour force), we will see a greater proportion of our children being able to complete on a global platform, right here in India. A tall order, yes, but brimming with possibilities.

Dr. Manmohan Singh announced on national TV last week that education is what has made him while recounting his humble beginnings and restated the importance of this opportunity for every child in the country. For a Prime Minister to say this is actually heartening, especially when we've had to get used to living with politicians of dubious distinctions: criminal records including fraud allegations, rape charges, smuggling, organized crime, etc.

Let me start with RTE. So what's the problem here?  Quality. We can build a million schools, but if our teachers don't teach well and our students don't study well, we can't build a nation. Teacher absenteeism and lack of quality training still plague the country's schools and thus sadly, over half of our primary school-going kids are unable to read or write correctly. What a waste of public resources, both human and financial. Part of my job requires me to examine the counter-factual. i.e. what would happen in the absence of this initiative / scheme / hypothesis? What would happen if the RTE were not implemented? Sure, we'd still probably see hoards of kids making their way to school in all sorts of weather and terrain, some sitting under the roadside lamp to study in the wee hours of the morning, some reading their textbooks while helping their mothers prepare an evening meal for the family. But the RTE in theory presents an opportunity to cut down their travel time to the school (1-3 kms restriction), and in fact make more schools accessible to more poor youth by reserving a proportion of seats in private schools.In short, really, its aimed at creating a more conducive 'learning environment'.

The key to success of this programme is two-fold: (1) to incentivize the system such that leakages (of time, money, supplies) are plugged (better pay, better infrastructure, cutting down on the deprivation that we've seen all too often). So many of our people have gone without so much for so long that its almost impossible to see well-stocked classrooms with blackboards and chalk sticks and wooden benches without expecting them to be taken away at some point. (2) to make all stake-holders accountable to the system through better testing methods, by grading teachers on performance (of their own teaching and outcomes of their students) and by making students understand the meaning of 2+2 rather than spoon feeding the answer to them.

We spend so much time on structure of the syllabus that we lose sight of substance of the syllabus. Pondering over whether a class 10 student needs to take a "Board" exam or not is hardly optimal. At the age of 15, musn't the student have a solid grasp on math, sciences, languages and literature anyway, irrespective of the testing body or methodology? Its a collective failure if that isn't achieved! And when teachers and students can focus their energies more on 'education' than on 'exams', its definitely going to be more rewarding for both. And for the country at large. Imagine nurturing a talent pool of highly skilled labour that is far greater than all the top-notch professionals we lose to the West every year? India, now that is worth the investment.

Moving on to foreign varsities. I'm hesitant because I am not entirely clear about this initiative. Is the purpose only to hand out Ivy League or other degrees (with a 'Made in India' disclaimer?) or are schools really going to invest here? The last thing we need is another group of utterly unemployable grads, albeit with fancy tags. Will they develop infrastructure here or piggy-back off exiting systems? What it should do is increase competition in the market and raise standards of local universities. There's also a chance it might crowd-out some of the smaller domestic players. My suggestion for these varsities is to collaborate with precisely these small players who might already be reasonably well-established in their fields of study or/and geographical regions. A joint venture of this kind might just pay off. Its probably not enough to retain those kids for whom a  foreign degree is merely a step towards migration, but if it can impart quality education to others, that's good for the public.

Counting the Crores..and then some

We are a country of over a billion people, about 130 crores at last count. The decennial extravaganza that we remember as the "census", is all set to begin its ambitious journey today to tell us exactly how many more Australias we have added to the world, besides other things. Its a potential goldmine for people working with household level data. This is no April Fools' joke!

Touted as the world's largest demographic exercise, India's 2011 census will be rolled out amidst talk of a population database, the Unique Identification Authority of India (UIDIA), security concerns such as cross-border illegal immigration and new parameters such as the measurement of phone and PC usage, the spread of financial (e)services and availability of drinking water. Get ready to be asked questions of economic, social and cultural implications, except one obvious dimension: your caste. In a country where caste-based reservations play a crucial role in our everyday lives, from getting admits into schools and colleges to even being eligible for certain jobs, authorities have decided that self-reported data on caste beyond SCs and STs is not credible enough and therefore not worth recording. Huh? How exactly do you then get a caste certificate? How is that process credible? I've long believed that opportunities should be created for individuals on the basis of economic need, not solely on the basis of one's lineage. A poor Brahmin child deserves as much of a push as does a poor Adivasi child. Won't they together contribute toward our demographic dividend and build the pyramid? Good points now. Biometric information will be collected - fingerprints, etc. eventually feeding into the National Population Register (NPR), which in turn will help generate unique 16-digit IDs for all legal citizens, so we are finally rid of the one million ID proofs that we currently need to furnish for the simplest of tasks. Not to mention getting rid of the middleman - for attestations, validations and all those related yet completely unproductive tasks. I can hardly wait!

I've often heard overseas visitors remark "there are so many people everywhere" and they seem rather overwhelmed by the mass of humanity at railway stations, bazaars, tourist spots, places of worship and elsewhere. This is our human capital and how we nurture it today will reflect in tomorrow's gains. What some call a liability, we need to use as an asset. This leads me to my next post on quality education and equal opportunities for all. But that’s for another day. Till then, happy counting!

Benchmarking

SK and I have had this conversation many times, more so since we moved to Delhi, a city of mass transformation in the 2 years that we've lived here. What exactly is India's place in the world? Has it changed at all? Do we go by statistics which tell us that India ranks a dismal '100 and something' on the Human Development Index (and as they hasten to add, its far lower than our neighbours' ranks and so on) or that we have an alarming proportion of the world's poor or that half of our pre-teen school-going kids are unable to read and write or do we go by what we see today vis-a-vis what we saw in the last decade(s)?

Over breakfast one morning of free-range boiled eggs, multigrain bread, gouda cheese courtesy the desi Bhains, parma ham and not-quite freshly brewed, but instant coffee with skimmed milk:) (now isn't that very international?) we debated whether benchmarking is all about positioning at a point in time and concluded that its relative for the most part and not absolute. Take this breakfast menu for instance. I certainly never imagined that I would get ready-to-use milk straight out of a carton in the land of milk and honey. Having grown up watching bags of fresh, pasteurized buffalo milk being boiled every morning, then cooled to just the right temperature, then consumed, then stored (safely out of little kitty's reach), I am amazed that 10 years hence I can buy milk which had already gone through all of these steps. Going by global numbers, India's packaged milk consumption is negligible. But its a quantum leap forward by domestic standards. And oh, gouda from Haryana is dee-lish. Why go to Holland when Haryana gives me the same and equally great desi tadka product (it did have bits of 'roasted cumin' for that smoky effect)?

Lets talk about the penetration levels of e-commerce or the use of credit cards. Technological innovation is one thing, adaptation quite another. Its about convincing the consumer that a switch is indeed worth the investment of time and effort and that it will ultimately impact the bottom line. In some instances, it might also be about cultivating a culture of transparency and efficiency. Some shopwallahs will not take my credit card or might charge me a 3% markup (bank's finance charges, madamjee) if they do. FYI, over 90% of India's retail sector is unorganized: mom-and-pop stores, the neighbourhood kirana shop, you get the picture. Yet, its this vendor who will deliver my week's groceries at my doorstep without ever an argument, in fact, that's the norm. 30 minutes later I am saved. Domino's would be proud! Now can I really expect the delivery boy to have a portable device for swiping my card? I don't even have to tip him for this service (I do though and SK even computes the 10% value of the purchases and diligently doles it out). This is not to say that plastic money is unacceptable elsewhere (restaurants, malls, cinema halls, etc.), it just seems not-quite-as-necessary in some places. I do pay my bills online - that's a major, major timesaver. And extremely convenient. I applied for a new passport and voter ID online and got updates on their delivery status on my mobile phone. Today, I can order an LPG cylinder by calling an automated line and get it within 48 hours. I can transfer money between bank accounts (usually from SK's into mine, how easy was that :-)) in a matter of minutes. In these cases, I avoid the middleman route, which to me is just a horrendous drain on the whole system. Some things take off well because of obvious and positive returns while others are not going to because alternatives are good enough for us until we get to a stage when they're going to be an obstacle rather than a benefit.

But what about advancements in infrastructure? Most will agree that barring new highways and some city streets, most of our roads have seen better days. I was driven on fabulous expressways even in Accra, Ghana. I believe that one of the key reasons for shoddy roads is that we are willing to accept them in any form. At least there is a pathway, we say. Thanks to the Prime Minister's Rural Roads Scheme (Pradhan Mantri Gram Sadak Yojana) we have increased our connectivity with thousands of villages and these roads are significant contributors to economic growth. They are not finished products in the developed country sense - with shoulders and dividers and markings and what-have-yous. But for the most part they get us from point A to B. Where there was simply no road, that's a great start. That's the short-term view. What is not so great is that we have the world's highest number of road fatalities every year. If we have to compromise, let it not be on safety. Infrastructure has to be of the highest standards if its going to make a meaningful impact on our lives and become a means for sustainable development in the longer-term. Take the Delhi Metro for example. Having traveled on lots of subways in a lot of cities outside India, its easy to see why DMRC has created an outstanding 'world-class' product. We are aiming sky high and not settling for just any other rail system. We are getting trained on how to queue up and allow passengers to exit first before boarding. When the airport line begins in a few months, it is expected to have check-in portals on board. We're going all out, something we're not used to and something that was considered wasteful not too long ago. A vehicle of change, indeed. 

So I'm not going to worry too much about grades and ranks right now. I'd rather focus on a more stable path which will serve us well in the years to come.

MP stands for Massive Potential

A few weeks ago, I was in rural Madhya Pradesh (MP) on a field visit to assess implementation progress of a project that we have rolled out recently in some parts of this state. Some impressions:

The project works primarily with women (always a good idea!) to help generate livelihood programmes using microfinance. The women I met were cautiously optimistic about their own future and concerned about the sustainability of such efforts. Microfinance is a brilliant concept: empowering women by making them responsible for their own money, breaking the vicious cycle of non-standardized moneylenders and so on. In recent times however, another trap has emerged...that of using microfinance groups to pay off loans taken from..microfinance groups. Women have to choose to use such lending on 'expenses' or 'investments' e.g. buying a child's school textbooks for the year (education impacts) or switching to a better quality fuel for cooking (health impacts). Not easy choices, especially when there are multiple stake-holders (family members, village elders).

After observing women's self-help groups (SHGs) in action, I can't help but admire all the networking that goes on and the social mobilization which as emerged as a result of the interactions. Kitty parties these are not (although, to be fair, I've never attended one!). These women discuss critical issues with peers: continuing to send a (girl) child to school, age of marriage, vaccinations, prevalent social customs, engagement in local politics (panchayats), etc. Of course, not all SHGs are at the same level of functioning. e.g. I met a group of remote tribal women who did not even know that they could have this option of debating their issues at a common forum and for them an indicator of change was the fact that they congregated weekly. Another group gathered but the ghunghat came in the way of them making any meaningful conversation! So an indicator of change in their case was that they could talk to each other and to observers and partners like us by raising their ghunghats slowly (not quite entirely headgear-less, but hey, a little bit goes a long way :)) Their must-have accessory? A mobile phone. An elderly lady of a self-help group proudly showed me her phone and asked me "punch in your number so I can call you if necessary". What an idea sirjee!

Agriculture and allied services are the main economic activity in the region. Driving through the state, I noticed a woman sitting outside her home working laboriously in the afternoon heat. She rolled tendu leaves into bidis for a living. She worked from 8.00 AM - 6.00 PM every day, 7 days a week. Her daily income? Rs. 40 for 1000 (yes, that's One Thousand) bidis rolled out. Just under a dollar a day for 10 hours of work. But she didn't know she could get more, perhaps a lot more. Her motivation for all this tedious work was that her daughter should not have to do the same thing and give up on school. She wanted to give her the chance to dream of an alternative and have the opportunity to pursue that alternative. Perhaps the next time we light up, we could spare a thought to such countless men and women whose own dreams have gone up in smoke (or who probably never allowed themselves to dream).

As a teenager, I remember reading in my economics books: Indian agriculture is a gamble against the monsoon. And sadly enough, I have to understand it even now (15 years later) since not much has changed in this sector. Nearly 70% of of our farmlands are rain-fed even today, in spite of advanced irrigation systems and dams. The sector has been besieged for decades by the same problems: disguised unemployment, small size of farms, landless labourers, lack of good quality and adequate agro inputs (such as water, seeds, fertilizers, cattle) and lack of access to finance and technology. Everywhere I went, I listened to the devastation caused by the worst drought in recent times. We're told India is self-sufficient in the production of food grains and yet in villages and cities across the country, we hear of people dying from hunger and starvation. Worse even are statistics that tell us that we end up wasting around a third of all foodgrains produced due to poor storage facilities. And then we met a gentleman who single-handedly raised his family annual income by using vermicompost (that he made himself) on his fields and by developing a drip irrigation system from very rudimentary material that had been gathering dust in his shed. So there's hope. But what is needed is a transformation on a much larger scale.

Finally, tourism. MP is stunning! I was fortunate to get a few hours in Khajuraho and visited the temples. Exquisite craftsmanship. Not too far away is Panna National Park with its varied flora and fauna. And a couple of waterfalls. I highly recommend a trip. Its one of India's best kept secrets.

iDesh

So why did I return to India? I've been asked many, many times. By many different people. And in a country without many personal boundaries, by people I'd just met, didn't wish to ever meet again and so on. There is no 'one' answer. I just did. I always knew that I would. Its (m)iDesh.