The White Tiger...

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga, starts off in an unusual format as a series of letters addressed to Wen Jiabao, the Premier of China by a Bangalore-based entrepreneur, Ashok Sharma spread over a span of seven nights. The Chinese Premier is excited to learn how India is able to churn out so many entrepreneurs in spite of so many stumbling blocks in various domains of life.

Apparently, sir, you Chinese are far ahead of us in every respect, except that you don’t have entrepreneurs. And our nation though it has no drinking water, electricity, sewage system, public transportation, sense of hygiene, discipline, courtesy or punctuality, does have entrepreneurs.

In short this is the story of the transformation of a man born as a servant to the rich and elite, from Munna to Balram Halwai to Ashok Sharma, the successful entrepreneur. The story is narrated in a one-to-one conversation format with few relevant touches of wit, sarcasm and dark humor. The first person narration is simple and straight-forward.

The main protagonist of the story is born and brought up in a remote North Indian village. To meet the needs of his family, he drops out of school at the age of eight to work in a tea shop. Well a different godsend script is composed for him, to leave the village and become the chauffeur for a rich family. In his chequered career as a chauffeur, Balram Halwai sees life from different perspectives, the good, the bad, the ugly, the honest, the dishonest, the corrupt, the moral, the immoral, the jugaad flocks, the maain baap generation and lots more. Finally he decides to make a 'U' turn in his life and that's when he commits the murder of his master, for nothing else but money. The money he acquires by killing his master is siphoned for his entrepreneurial venture, running a cab company in India's technology and outsourcing hot seat, Bangalore. In short this is the story.

So now you can make out why the title of the book is 'The White Tiger'. Just as the white tiger is a very rare species among animals found in the jungle, so is Balram Halwai a very uncommon individual found in the sea of darkness, who crafts and designs his own blueprint for the road ahead.

On the outside it seems that the author has an excellent understanding of the economic changes and its effect of lifestyle, the oft-discussed topic of outsourcing, the class and caste differences in the society and many such related topics. But deep dive a bit and it has a storyline replete with the clichéd images and reflections, written to live up to the expectations of the western audience. The image of once-upon-a-time, the country of darkness, still retaining its share of darkness.

I don't deny the fact that the country is home to cases of brutal injustice, dirty corruption, victimization of the underprivileged by the rich. But but creating a painting on canvas in which each and every stroke of the paint brush portrays an image of extremity gives a very bland taste and a superficial touch to the entire framework. It smells of an outsider's view from a desi's quill.

Set aside these, the author is remarkably skilled in characterization of the people who dictate the plot. The language is very simple, non highbrow and straight-forward. But at certain segments of the plot, I found that the author was struggling with his script and has used repetition of events as fillers.

'I drove the Mongoose to the railway station and got him his favorite snack, the dosa once again, from which I removed the potatoes, flinging them on the tracks, before handing it over to him.'

The above few sentences with mild variations have been mentioned five to six times in the plot, each time the protagonist, Balram Halwai goes to drop another character, the Mongoose at the railway station.

Overall it was an ok-ok-sort of book to read. Rather it was my fault that I had lot of uber expectations from the book, considering that it won the Booker Prize for the year 2008. But one thing, I am very sure about, if Chetan Bhagat's books storyline could form the plot for Bollywood movies, then Adiga's, 'The White Tiger' can definitely book for an eligible Bollywood movie script.

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Manholeonomics...

A couple of days back I was talking to a friend in Mumbai and learnt how eagerly Mumbai'tes wait for the rain. It had rained cats and dogs in Mumbai recently. Everyone knows that the civic problems would surface again in spite of the big talks shared by the local authority's netas. Talks of faux promises abound. So the best people do when its Barso Re Megha Megha Barso Re time, is to keep the umbrellas and rain coats ready. Kids pray to rain God, to get a few extra days off from school. All these happen each year and its kind of ritual.

But this year there is a twist in the tale. Come rainy season, Mumbai is witness to scores of open manholes, and this year, the BMC (Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation) is blaming the Chinese dragon for its excruciations.

Though the connecting link seems a bit sapless but definitely there is some spine in the reasoning.

Let's mix a bit of Freakonomics logic and come out with the right questions and underlying connections. The facts that emerge from the cauldron have ample reasoning index. China which is hosting the 2008 Olympic Games is busy constructing massive structures. As a result of this, it is quaffing tons and tons of iron and steel, hence increasing the demand for this resource globally. A natural fallout of this is that organized gangs are now operating in various parts of Mumbai city, that steal the manhole covers. This is simply a case of supply and demand mismatch. Around 1,500 covers have been stolen in the past couple of months, and the price of each stolen manhole is around Rs 5,500 in the grey market.

Now why is Mumbai targeted and not any other city in India? My answer would rest on two levers. The first one is that it's a port city and so transportation to foreign shores is easy. And second one is that probably in Mumbai, the organized gangs are really orchestrated and well connected.

Even if this point as raised by BMC is a bit exaggerated, separating the chaff from the grain is a bit difficult. There is definitely some amount of truth in it. The truth being, the world today has become iron and steel glutton, because of the development that various nations are going through. So to meet the rising demands, taking short cuts are also acceptable.

There are many inauspicious accidents that Mumbai'tes face because of the sudden disappearance of the manholes. During the rainy season, the streets are over flowing with water, the day it rains heavily. And suppose a regular commuter on a particular road is not aware of the sudden disappearance of a manhole, there is no marking to indicate the impending doom as the water is flowing in full force, s/he may face a fatal accident. It's a more serious issue for kids especially.

Also there's a big financial loss for the city authorities in the event of these theft cases. Since most of the manholes are covered with cast-iron covers, it's a bit more costly and has more scrap value than the ductile-iron covers. This is not a one-off case, I even read many tales such as these which are triggered by the global supply demand inconsistencies.

The only positive side that I see in this episode is that, people know when there is water clogging, the concerned authorities won't turn up soon to fix the problem. So the fastest way water can recede smoothly without causing any chokage is to leave the manholes open. Of course all that needs to be done is to have some alert posts or some tripods with red flags as signals to inform the people. But in many cases, it's the Ramu Kaka or the Kishan Bhaiya in his make shift shop and other regular hawkers who extend the heads-up message.

If my words above sound gimcrackery, then just do a Ctrl+A, then press Delete button for whatever you have read so far. My tongue-in-cheek advice is then, let's go for Sawan Barse Tarse Dil kinda experience.



Ahhhhhhhhhh! am getting rainmatic.

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(Note: Manhole pic is taken from Flickr. It's taken by noniphon.)

Window with many views...

The mini-bus comes to sudden stop and I along with few of my colleagues board the bus, which would ply to my destination which is about 5 kms from where I reside. The day has just started and it's 8:30A.M. and the roads are already gridlocked. Congested roadways mean we spend hell lot of hours in traffic. Some newspaper reporter or township planning consultant would equate the lost hours in traffic to the surpassing loss of fuel, not to mention environmental damage, etc. In fact each one of us would have read endless stories on these topics, the infrastructure problems, few resolutions floated by citizen forums to curb this menace, being well aware that governmental action takes years to mature.

I am not going to repeat those chronicles again. This is my personal view from what I have seen, most of the people who quetch about traffic issues are master preachers. This should be done, doing things in that way would make the traffic flow seamlessly but those are the very same people who break the traffic rules, take a left turn when the small hoarding right in front says, 'No Left'. The same set of people who profess, that there is lot of pollution in the environment, are generally the ones who proudly own more than one vehicle which are fuel guzzlers and this is rigidly coupled with the environment contamination issues. You know this, I know this and we all know this. So let's leave the chapter closed here.

What I like, the most during my short long commute by bus is the colors, the multifariousness, the disparities that I see. The society, the changing dynamics of the economy, the emotions in action are the dominant players in this movie called 'The Race'.

Driving in city traffic does not involve a great deal of concentration because we are going through a route that we have traversed before at least more than 10 times and our minds are sort of automated to the flurry of external factors. But is it as smooth as it sounds in my words here? Definitely No.

Road rage and the sudden proliferation of irrational drivers are the prime traffic tremor creators. I feel that keeping aside the infrastructure shortcomings, most traffic jams aren't the result of an accident or a breakdown. The best place to show a child the dynamics of chain reaction is a busy traffic jam. I guess you are laughing now, or saying that I have gone crazy but tell me the truth have you encountered, this or not.

A driver reacts to another driver, more out of ego, disrespect for others, and non-acceptance of one's own fault than anything else. Imagine you are fiddling with the music player in your car, and unknowingly you get close to car in front, damn.....you hit the brakes, but it's a bit too late. This small mistake can make a queue of vehicles for miles and one gets to hear, the blaring sounds of horns from vehicles. Now if the two people who were involved, in minor mishap would have behaved with a small pinch of maturity, by bringing both the cars aside from the main path and then got into an argument or verbal tussle, then the traffic would have coursed smoothly. A single erratic vehicle can trigger feedback effects that push the entire system into state of stand stillness often denying passage for emergency passengers on the road such as a loaded cab plying to the airport, an ambulance transporting a patient to a specialized hospital in another corner of the city, etc.

How can you be on the road and miss the ubiquitous auto rickshaws. Often known for charging more than the accepted rates, I can see from my bus, an auto rickshaw driver bargaining with a lady, with one hand bent down with the laptop bag and the other carrying the lunch box, rushing to her workplace. 'Madam, traffic jam, madam one and half'. The lady finally agrees and the three wheeled speed demon snakes its way through bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Suddenly my eyes catch glimpse of some of the most adept multi-taskers and acrobats. True to the punch line of Hutch Telecom Services, which goes as 'Wherever you go our network follows', I find many people on bikes and on cars uttering, blabbing and talking on their mobile hand sets, completely oblivious of the outside cacophony. I also get to see benign material side of India's growing economy. After more decades of socialist deprivation, when consumer goods were so limited, today I see the latest models in gadgets right from my bus window. Laptops with plug in data cards for connectivity to the internet even when in transit, Blackberries synced with office e-mail box pumping in messages, iPhones, iPods playing music are no longer scenes restricted to the western world. I see these panoramas amidst traffic.

Earlier seen only on weekends, now seven days a week is their new schedule. I am referring to eunuchs in their usual makeup and sari. Clapping their hands and tapping the closed windows of the cars/jeeps if they are closed asking for money is a usual sight. Those in bikes and auto rickshaws pass on a one or two rupee coin to the eunuchs, immediately to avoid being hassled. Today one- or two-rupee coin has lost its value in general and the eunuchs at times turn aggressive when the amount tendered to them is less than five rupees.

I see, a long 'Q' of cars with the stickers of the various MNC firms on the rear glass, generally on one corner. Few small kids tap the rolled up windows asking for a rupee, probably that would buy them few peanuts or half cup of tea. Suddenly few bikes driven by handsome boys carrying their helmets, their stylish girl friends as pillion riders, dressed in thin sweaters over tights, short boots, high heeled boots, scarves tied snappily around their necks zip-zap-zoom past my bus. Just then I lift my head to see, a new billboard, sporting the flamboyant Vijay Mallaya and it has a catchy punch line 'King of Good Times'.

Right next to the billboard stands, a mother bony thin in physical built and carries a child in a thick blanket wrapped around her waist. The matted hair of the child has a dull look and the mother stares at another lady sitting inside an air conditioned car pampering her may be five year old kid with fresh fruits for breakfast.

You, I and everyone else feel good that India is in on a rapid economic transformation ride but for few, life seems very much the same.



The mother with her kid now shifts towards the new shopping arcade, hoping that someone would give her an amount that would feed her and her kid for the day. But no luck as the city's rich and nouveau either had spent their money buying Parisian lingerie, Swarovski crystals, FCUK apparels, flat-screen TVs, Virgin mobiles, Calvin Klein jeans, DVD players, digi-cams, and more and more and more or they are just not bothered.

My mind has been wandering across these various boulevards, intermittently flipping through the pages of 'In Spite of the Gods', tapping the window pane of the bus, suddenly to realize that the vehicle has come to a stop and its time for me to enter a classy office corridor.

Now this one is an interesting news that I read recently as to how the Royal Thai Traffic Police, trained 145 of its officers in basic midwifery. The reasons were to help newborn kids needing some help when stuck in the traffic, with their parents and to assist pregnant ladies deliver in traffic. The full story is here.

So next time onwards, don't crib when you are stuck in the traffic. Keep your eyes open and I can assure you a wide kaleidoscope of human emotions, expressions and behavioral patterns to view.

Keep reading and remain connected.

(Note: The picture was taken in Mumbai when stuck in a traffic jam.)