An embarrassment of Riches

Last weekend, the Times of India carried a column by a well-known and saucy columnist who rather harshly credited Abhinav Bindra’s gold medal almost entirely to his wealthy ancestry. Give the same private facilities to an impoverished young man and he too would dish out a medal (since a rich man cannot be talented) seemed to be the suggestion. I do not even wish to argue with this warped piece of logic (the columnist still goes on to sell more works of fiction in India than any other writer) but the column ended up articulating something that characterizes us. As a nation, we are still uncomfortable with affluence. The rich are supposed to be manipulative, exploiters of the labour class and generally unscrupulous. Be it social debates or bollywood, in the rich v/s poor battle the rich man is always evil. Have you seen maids running away with the driver and the “maalkin’s” jewels in Hindi movies? Don’t we all know of at least one household which has suffered a similar saga? Despite all the economic progress we have made, we have not shed the conscientious compulsions of being overtly socialist.

In stark contrast, I found our separated-at-birth neighbours being fairly comfortable with the fact that their former President would perhaps spend the rest of his life in an abode which facilitates his love for golf, cigars and whisky. The person who is likely to succeed him is an affluent businessman and the widower of one of the largest land-owning families of the country. He shares power with a former prime minister who too was a reigning industrial czar before he took to governance. If you look closely, apart from the hypocrisy of prohibition, Pakistan is a lot more comfortable with the good life than we are. Some say, it is largely a nation of “north Indians” and hence, living well or aspiring to do so is part of the DNA. Could it have something to do with the fact that Pakistan’s founder Jinnah loved the good life himself and brazenly so? There perhaps lies the answer to our double standards.

Our first prime minister too was a man who was more comfortable in the social company of Edwina Mountbatten but had to toe the Gandhian line for political survival. Hence, there was a constant balancing act between having your clothes dry-cleaned in London and nationalizing banks. The burden of carrying on the Gandhian legacy ensured we were socialists not just in our government policies but also in personal lives , at least the overt part. One is yet to see pictures of Netas with whisky glasses even though most politicians that I have met have an enviable private bar. We still insist that the kurta-pyjama is our “national dress” and business tycoons shed their Saville Row suits with remarkable ease when they take to politics (Vijay Mallya is an honourable exception but you can attribute it to his being un-ambitious in Politics). Rajiv Gandhi bucked the trend a bit with his Gucci/Cartier wardrobe making it to national publications but his family seems to be shying away from carrying the sartorial legacy forward.

We are firmly on the path of economic development, the odd GDP growth rate hiccups notwithstanding. We are making progress because we have embraced an open economy and shed some socialist baggage (but for the odd Singrur) . It is time we accepted some of the beneficiaries of capitalism for what they have accomplished. Currently we insist on painting them with a tarnished brush simply because one has to conform to a certain stereotype.

Finally a Blog Post!

My previous posts have been about matters of national or social import (albeit self-perceived) but I was told thats the handiwork of a columnist. A blogger is meant to write about his personal experiences, problems, moments of euphoria etc something like a Web diary a la the Big B. I always thought that doing so would be terribly pompous. I mean, why would somebody want to know I had an upset stomach, for instance? However, I succumb and am finally biting the bait of self-importance and here is my first attempt at megalomania.

This weekend was the first long weekend since I changed jobs and also acquired a poor man's SUV. We planned on an economical getaway and settled for "Cloud End", a forest lodge off Mussoorie. As my first tangible benefit, I was gifted a 75-300 zoom lens as an important accessory for the visit. (To my utmost relief, my photography skills are something that have finally found domestic admiration). In true corporate style, summary of the trip as under:

- Cloud End is a superb destination for those in search of solitude amidst extremely picturesque environs. One needs to drive through a challenging dirt track in thick forests to reach this "hutment" nestled between scenic peaks and overbearing jungles. The succulent stuff that they dish out at the barbeque is to die for but the loo can drive you to death. If you seek opulence or perhaps even great hygiene, this is not the place for you.

- For my 6'2" frame and generally aggressive image, I turned out to be quite a chicken in the forests. When we left the place at night for a dinner invite, I bribed the lodge staff for a to-and-fro escort. (I blamed it on my poor sense of direction though!)

- Our hosts on day-1 were super. From great food to engrossing company to my favourite whiskies, we had it all. The bonus though was even better. Rinku had maintained (and it was a long standing difference of opinion) that government officials were either boring or arrogant (or both!). Thanks to our hosts, she now stands fully converted. In fact, in my decade-plus of knowing her, I had never seen her open up on the first meeting before.

- An Innova purchase is to be avoided at all costs. Nearly 200 of them crossed me on each side of the journey and each of them was driven by uncouth, rash (even rogue) taxi-drivers. They are the only people meant to drive that minibus anyway. My truck on the other hand deserves kudos for a superb suspension though the engine could have done better at high altitudes. I deserve a pat on the back too for being able to drive 10-12 hours at a stretch in my ripe middle age.

- The practically non-existent cellphone signal coupled with the absence of music and television in the eerily quiet lodge ensured I could read for hours on end. That brings me to the only serious point I insist on making in this post. I used to be a voracious reader till 1992 but since then reading has been sporadic and need-based. My current job involves a lot of travel and however pretentious it may sound, frequent air travel (obviously minus these distractions)really helps me catch up on reading. Hence, over the last few months there have been some reads that I recommend to all those I meet and I must put them on record in this blog. These are books that have probably influenced me permanently and I would want most of my friends to read them too.

1. India after Gandhi by Ramachandra Guha. This book seeks to chronicle the "history" of our country after independence. (typically termed as "political science" in academics) Apart from providing me with tons of information, it has helped a relative history-ignorant soul like me form a different perspective on several issues. National Language for one. I had always dismissed the Dravidians who protested against Hindi as parochial jingoists. Indeed I took great pride in my ability to speak Hindi with the same fluency as those from the cow belt and sans the accent from my home state. It has belatedly dawned on me that the nation as it exists, was anyway a contribution from the British. Hence, rather than view the use of English as a colonial hangover, it is perhaps prudent to recognise the Britisher's role and positive contribution to the Nation State the way we define it today.

2. Sacred Games by Vikram Chandra: I was once told "good fiction is not just fiction". This book is a telling example of that. Written about the Mumbai police and its relationship with the underworld, it goes beyond the cliched stuff on bribery driven nexus or religion based allegiances. It draws up the socio-economic profile of a middle-class mumbaikar thru the eyes of a policeman, throws up larger social conflicts and of course delves into the functioning of the police in far greater detail than anything I have read before. The narrative style with two parrallel stories converging towards the end is also refreshing though supposedly un-original. (apparently patented by Haruki Murakami years ago)

3. Fooled by Randomness by Nicolas Nassem Taleb. My blog title is a giveaway about my being deeply influenced by this book. I am responsible for recommending it to several, some of whom have begun reading it a second time. This book explains (rather wittily ) through compelling logic and statistics on how incompetent all of us are on the work front and how most of us confuse our good luck to be signs of our competence. The logic tends to be absurd at times but the moot message comes through very powerfully. A few caveats though. This book calls for the ability to concentrate for long periods of time (its not an easy read). More importantly, to internalise this book, one needs to have the rare ability to laugh at oneself. Lest I get too cynical, I had postponed reading the author's sequel of sorts "The Black Swan". Temptation got the better of me and I have started off this weekend. Please do not be surprised if the title of this blog changes in the weeks to come . Though, in this book, the writer makes fewer attempts to conceal his intellectual arrogance and contemptuous personality.

And yes, I have captured some satisfying pictures in Mussoorie including a breathtaking glimpse of the full moon. Hope to post them soon.