Or Would You Mind Your English?

“CUT OUT ALL those exclamation marks,” wrote F Scott Fitzgerald. “An exclamation mark is like laughing at your own jokes.” I quite clearly remember the only time I used an ungrammatical set of exclamation marks: !!!!!!!!!!!!. Quite naturally, not having had to pay for them per item, I do not remember the number of marks I used. I had not used them to terminate a sentence, but as a standin icon to communicate the falling of rain. Rain drops, to be more precise, their coming in sheets of broken lines, like Van Gogh paintings come to life, and then the lines condensing to a drop—exactly like! That was the first monsoon in my Facebook life, and since then, there have been downpours and water logging, but never the same flood of ! on my Timeline. For though I am quite certain that no one would call me a miser, I have to confess that I am quite tight fisted regarding my use of punctuations. Fowler’s Modern English Usage says that ‘except in poetry the exclamation mark should be used sparingly. Excessive use of exclamation marks in expository prose is a sure sign of an unpractised writer or of one who wants to add a spurious dash of sensation to something unsensational’. I am embarrassed to say that I judge people who use the exclamation mark as if it was a part of some buy-one-get-many-free package. I tend to think of it as adultery, this need for the many where one would suffice. I try to get inside the heads of those who use !!! like drivers honking their cars in India—as if control hee nahi hota. For every exclamation mark that comes after the first one is tautology, a repetition that is only noise. It’s easy to see that the use of multiple exclamation marks is the equivalent of shouting, uncontainable excitement or the shock of surprise, so numbing that your finger forgets to move from the 1/! key. The series of exclamation marks, then, marks the end of the era of quiet. It is loudspeaker version 3.0. What makes a human identify with the exclamation point then? My Facebook search engine tells me that there are five Facebookers with the name ‘Exclamation Mark’, and one with the name ‘Mark Exclamation’. While I thought that a nice surname (I would have liked to be ‘Sumana Full Stop’ though if I had a choice), it was their profile photos that I was more curious about: quite expectedly, three of the six had ! as their profile photos (in blue, black and red), one had the Facebook default photo of a woman, and two had Roman gladiators as their profile photos. Of the six, four were men. It came to me like an epiphany: the exclamation mark on Facebook was loaded with masculinity. I could not quite understand how that had come to be. The history and etymology of the punctuation mark betrayed no such bias. ‘!’ derived from the Latin for ‘joy’, and surely that was not a male exclusive? The female Facebooker had used the ! in her profile photo between parenthesis so that (!) looked like a woman’s back to many. The comments about the figurative butt were not very polite. But this evidence of masculinity is at odds with available research on the subject. Karl Hughes, in a short piece that cites studies by Carol Scates, Mary Hiatt, Laura Winn, Donald Rubin, among other researchers asked, ‘Why do Young Women Abuse the Exclamation Point?’, quotes comments from his Facebook post, one of which is this one by a Meghan Callahan: ‘I think women often don’t feel heard. It’s a way to add emphasis and force attention, for people who don’t understand how to do that through craft’. While this might be true of America where Hughes is based, in India, where women are anyway less heard than men, I have not noticed any significant difference between exclamation mark abuse by male and female Facebookers. For in Indian English, the ! is expected to do what the ellipses does in poetry – a stand-in for the unsaid and the unsayable. Stuart Jeffries, in his essay, The Joy of Exclamation Marks, says that “without the flourish of an exclamation mark”, anything we say “lacks verve or at least zeitgeisty voguishness.” Quoting David Shipley and Will Schwalbe from their recent book, Send: The Essential guide to Email for Office and Home: ‘Email is without affect ... It has a dulling quality that almost necessitates kicking everything up a notch just to bring it to where it would normally be’. Before you can think of whether old world telegrams ever used the exclamation mark, Jeffries offers you an anecdote: “One day Victor Hugo sent a telegram to his publisher. He wanted to know how his new book was doing. His telegram read: ‘?’; the publisher’s reply: ‘!’” The exclamation mark, you see, meant Hugo’s book was doing well.’ There are other delights in Jeffries’s essay, as in this quotation from Terry Pratchett: “Multiple exclamation marks are a sure sign of a diseased mind.” Jen Doll, in an essay, A Plea for Self-Control Regarding the Exclamation Point, writes about her English tutor teaching her the value of the exclamation mark: In 10th grade, as a response to the most recent assignment of fiveparagraph personal essays answering the gem of a prompt, talk about one important thing of your summer, my English teacher began the class with the single most important lesson I learned in high school: “From here on out, you only get seven exclamation marks in your life, so use them wisely.” I was floored. At that point in my life, I had yet to deal with anything that long-term. This was my Aladdin / three wishes moment. I was nervous, but also excited. The English teacher’s aphoristic statement reminded me of a diabetic friend’s self-mocking joke about the consumption of sugar: “Its destiny, decided at birth—how many kilos of sugar one is entitled to consume in this lifetime. Some do that in 30 years, some in 60, another in 90.” I’ve increasingly begun to ration my use of exclamation marks—every day isn’t Sugar Saturday. What happens to all the ! after they’ve performed their duties? Do they die? A century hence, an archaeologist might discover a cemetery of ! on Facebook. Who knows, after the wars over gas and water, there might be restrictions on these weapons of mass exclamation. What would happen, then, to my favourite exclamation- point Facebooker who goes by the name ‘!ndia’?

Anirban Das Blah, MD and CAA of Kwan, India’s leading talent management venture on how he christened his business, and how he grew it

Anirban Blah loves to ‘KWANtify’ his relationships: which, he says, means putting people first, before business and profit. It might sound like corporate platitude. More so, because Blah’s entrepreneurial story of building India’s leading talent management venture is located in the dog-eat-dog world of the Indian movie industry.

Though Blah’s job leaves a lot of people starry-eyed, he insists, “It’s like any other business. Our focus is clients, too, only they are a bit more famous,” says the 34-year-old entrepreneur, who started KWAN (now, known as CAA KWAN after a joint venture with the Los Angelesbased Creative Artists Agency) with co-founders Indranil Blah, Vijay Subramaniam and Dhruv Chitgopekar in 2009. It was their second stint in the nascent world of talent management after Globosport, Mahesh Bhupathi’s sports management company where Blah was the CEO. He left because he wanted a sense of ownership.

His celluloid inspirations probably scripted these moves. Jerry Maguire, the ambitious sports talent manager, played by Tom Cruise in a 1996 Hollywood movie of the same name, wrote in a manifesto in the beginning of the movie, that real value in their business lay not in the billings they clocked, but the relationships they built. In a dramatic scene in the movie, Maguire’s client, football player Rod Tidwell, called this intangible relationship—“not just the money, not just the coin, it’s the KWAN–love, respect, community and dollars, too, the whole package”. That is a mission statement woven into CAA KWAN’s very identity today. Blah deconstructs this mission simply. “Essentially, it’s about doing what’s good for the long-term, and not be blinded by short-term gain. When we entered the industry, agents were mostly considered transactional and exploitative. That was the norm. We didn’t want to be that. For me, Jerry Maguire was a way for living with some soul and integrity.” In the memo Maguire writes, he says: “We are pushing numbers around, doing our best, but is there any real satisfaction in success without pride?” It might have got Maguire fired from Sports Management International in the movie, but it triggered a way of business and life for Blah, who has watched the movie nearly 25 times, and makes sure he reads the full text of the manifesto a couple of times a year. Not that the symbolism of their name, or values is easy to miss—a huge poster of the movie signed by the cast and crew dominates CAA KWAN’s Mumbai office, and the About Us page on its website carries the conversation between Cuba Goding Jr and Tom Cruise. It’s certainly helped Blah and his four-year-old firm reap rich, filmiishtyle rewards. There is no cinematic exaggeration here. Just check out some of the stars KWAN represents.

Ranbir Kapoor is a KWAN man. That’s big casting for Blah’s team considering Kapoor is the only male member of his illustrious family to have hired an agent, that too when KWAN was barely three-months old. Others like Frieda Pinto, Deepika Padukone, Genelia D’Souza, and Sunidhi Chauhan and Anurag Kashyap have also picked KWAN to manage their corporate endorsements, live appearances and events. Also, KWAN isn’t restricted to Bollywood glitz. It has a very strong southern glamour with clients like Mahesh Babu, Ram Charan Tej, Allu Arjun and Kajal Aggarwal; and a thriving sports management business unit. And, the galaxy keeps growing every month.

For Blah, though, living his inspiration day in and day out is more about what happens inside their offices, not on the frantic sets of ads and movies. “You need to be inspired every day. People aren’t inspired by a movie, or by their boss. It’s about having a great workplace.” An important step to that was making sure they set up a “nice business” with “nice people” in it. In fact, more than the glamour talk, it’s this aspect that gets Blah really going “We don’t necessarily hire the most qualified people. We hire the nicest ones, people who can be trusted.” Plus, they are young, love what they do, and don’t have any filmy connections. Each person in his 80-people team across its offices in Mumbai, Delhi and Hyderabad has these attributes, Blah asserts. His formula of niceness in the supposedly big, bad world of showbiz is seeing near-blockbuster results. Profit and revenue numbers are hard to come by for this industry, and Blah doesn’t divulge numbers, but in the four short years CAA KWAN has been in existence, it’s become one of the top talent management agencies in the country.

By shunning a top-heavy structure, Blah has de-centralised power, and brought processes, entrepreneurial zeal and accountability to his clientservicing teams. It’s a rare professional enterprise in an industry not known to be like that. “Ours is a venture-funded type of company. Each team handles a personality, and has complete responsibility. Having a top-heavy structure leads to erosion of power. If there are people who are talented, how do you just put one of them on the top?” he asks seriously.

A massive deluge—a result of multiple natural and man made events— devastated Kedarnath in July and claimed some 580 lives. Heavy rainfall, too, formed a small lake in the north-west of the same valley and caused further damage. , and came down to Kedarnath town drowning everything on its path. Some 5,000 people are still reported missing

AT THE Rio Conference (1992) the crucial role played by mountain ecosystems was recognised by highlighting that the “livelihood of about 10 per cent of the world’s population depended directly on mountain resources such as water, forests and agricultural products and minerals” (U nited Nations, 2001). It was also added that the populations “living in valleys and plains depend on the mountains for water a many major rivers originate there” and the fact was stressed in the Agenda 21 which stated that about 40 per cent of the world’s population lived in adjacent medium and lower watershed areas. The vulnerability of mountain areas to environmental degradation pressures placed by increasing population growth, tourism and economic development, was also highlighted. Notably, Agenda 21 drew attention to ecological degradation in the Himalayan region resulting from the cultivation of marginal lands due to population growth. The environmental heritage of the Himalayan region is under pressure from natural and human-induced stresses such as earthquakes, landslides and construction activities and the impacts are illustrated by declining forest cover in the states of Assam, Manipur, Meghalaya, Mizoram, Nagaland and Sikkim, the loss of wildlife habitat and the loss of life and property caused due to natural disasters. Deforestation has resulted in many species of flora and fauna of the region becoming endangered. DW talks to two experts, Harsh Srivastava, Chief Executive Officer of the World Development Forum and Sunita Narain, Editor of Down to Earth on whether India is paying the price for untrammeled growth?

HARSH SHRIVASTAVA// A problematic thing if and when we look at the issue of economic and social growth is that we pit it against the fragile ecology of the Himalayan states—the two are not either or in any way. Having said that, the approach to economic and social growth in areas of fragile ecology should be different. While the rest of the states may be able to afford the mass tourism approach, it will not work in a place like Uttarakhand. Instead of mass the focus should be on premium tourism. Yes, I realise that there are tourists who cannot afford a huge sum of money on journeys and that pilgrimages are an integral part of this travelling that we are referring to. However, pilgrimages of any sort are a matter of privilege in the world. Hajj is a privilege and it is strictly regulated by states and compensations and possibilities are made available to those who cannot afford it. But those who can, they are made to pay. Also, the journey to Amarnath (J&K) requires more than adequate money—it requires a person to be of a certain physical state. Why should the process be different in case of Uttarakhand? Because pilgrimages are sentimental and emotional journeys, the state’s role in this becomes imperative. The safety of pilgrims becomes tantamount, the place they are travelling to is not just a destination, it is one which is important to the tourists who travel there. High mountain, adventure, biodiversity and nature tourism is the most obvious route to economic development in the Himalayas. This tourism is greatly dependent on the ecology of the region. If the environment degrades, tourism will also be impacted. On the other hand, tourism has impacts on the environment, if not carefully managed. The Uttarakhand flood teaches us that we must learn to build sustainable models for pilgrim-based tourism in the fragile hills. Think the myriad problems—pollution, litter and solid waste disposal—in most high Himalayan tourist sites. Construction activity is unchecked; in most cases hotels and lodges come up in the most fragile areas. And though on most months the places remain next to empty on three to four months of every year they see a manifold rise in the population level which a place is obviously not used to. Thus we actually need to put in place policies for sustainable urbanisation of mountains. I realise that most of the valley or plain states do not have these policies in place, but the need is imperative. Cities on the Himalayas are growing and thereby they are being plagued by the same problems of the (plain) cities–from mountains of garbage and plastic, untreated sewage, chronic water shortages, unplanned urban growth and even local air pollution because of vehicles. These towns need to be planned, particularly keeping in mind the rush of summer tourists and the fact that tourists do not pay for municipal services. Many states have experimented—from banning plastics, to taxing tourists—to better respond to these issues. But they need support and new thinking on everything. Harsh Shrivastava is the Chief Executive Officer of the World Development Forum. Before the World Development Forum, Shrivastava was a part of the Planning Commission, the Prime Minister's Office and the Confederation of Indian Industry. He is now the CEO of the World Development Forum, which brings governments, businesses, and civil societies from around the world.

SUNITA NARAIN// The Himalayas have seen two distinct phases of its rich forest resources—the first phase was the extraction of forests for “development”, which led to widespread deforestation in the region and increased vulnerability to landslides as well as deprivation among people dependent on forests for their basic survival. These concerns led to the first directive against green felling—the enactment of the Forest Conservation Act in the 1980s and the subsequent directives of the Supreme Court to check forest-based industry in the Himalayan states, particularly the Northeast. But these actions, however important, have not considered how forests can be used to contribute to the economy of the region. State revenue from forests has declined. Local anger against forest departments has increased. Clearly, we need a different development strategy, which is based on the use of the region’s important resource for development and local livelihood security. Instead, what we are seeing is that large tracts of forests are being diverted for hydropower and road projects, without focus on compensatory afforestation. The recent events in Uttarakhand have shown, more than ever, that we need a development strategy for the Himalayas that takes into account the vulnerability of the region and the need for environment protection. There is no doubt that the region needs economic growth. But this development cannot come at the cost of the environment. It will only make the already risk-prone and ecologically fragile region more vulnerable and development more “deadly”. We also know that climate change will exacerbate the vulnerability of this already fragile ecosystem. The question is what should be the development strategy for this region? A pan-Himalayan strategy which allows states to evolve common policies. It is also clear that these strategies will have to be based on the region’s natural resources—forests, water, biodiversity, organic and speciality foods, nature tourism— but will need to address the specific threats so that growth does not come at the cost of the environment. Let's explore the different sectors and the questions that need to discussed and resolved. For that we will have to build tourism that is not destructive. Some ways to do that would be to build an inventory of key pilgrimage sites in the state, with an understanding of its ecological capacity based on location and fragility. Immediately control the number of visitors to important pilgrimage sites. These restrictions on the key and most important pilgrimage sites can be done immediately and can be further revised based on the carrying capacity estimates. Ban construction of roads for the movement of pilgrims and tourists to within 10km of the high-altitude pilgrimage areas in order to create an ecological and spiritual buffer. These areas, like national parks and sanctuaries, should be maintained as special areas, which are maintained with minimal human interference to help us connect with nature Similar to sanctuaries and national parks, create a provision of buffer areas, surrounding the pilgrimage sites, where development is restricted. To build local interest in these areas, strictly enforce rules to give communities living in the area advantage of the pilgrimage activities. Use the carrying capacity action plan to create facilities for tourists, particular facilities for sanitation and for garbage disposal Make it mandatory for expeditions to remove and take back all non-degradable items. This can be enabled through a security deposit and check on the items being carried for the expedition. Create local community interest in management of these sites. Promote homestead tourism, instead of five-star tourism, based on policy incentives. These incentives would include fiscal benefits provided to houseowners for providing tourist related facilities. Regulate homestead tourism through a third-party audit and certification programme, which would promote good practices in the tourist complexes. Use the certification programme to include rating of key environmental sustainability guidelines – like reuse and recycling of waste and energy efficiency and renewables. This will involve tourists also in understanding the special needs of the Himalayas and their role in protecting its beauty. Increase the rate of entry tax charged by all hill towns. This tourism tax for entry into fragile ecosystems should be increased substantially and across the board in all towns of the Himalayas. The fund created from this tax should be used for a dedicated purpose of increasing facilities for tourists. (For instance, Costa Rica has a tourist surcharge, charged from every hotel based on its occupancy for eco-development). Impose high charges for parking of private vehicles in markets and fragile areas of hill towns, which will also restrict the number of vehicles being allowed into the areas and reduce pollution.

Films that evoke spirits of past cinematic masters

I AM NOT usually sentimental about anniversaries, but this May, as the centenary celebrations of Indian cinema took place, I indulged myself a little by re-watching the 2009 Marathi film Harishchandrachi Factory. This is the story of Dadasaheb Phalke’s struggles as he made what would become India’s first feature, Raja Harishchandra, but that synopsis doesn’t capture the spirit of this biopic. It is not a po-faced, realist telling of Phalke’s life—instead, it has the mood of a picaresque tale about an underdog sallying from one adventure to the next. The filmmakers clearly set out to capture the sanguine spirit of the movies that were being made in Phalke’s own time. And so, Harishchandrachi Factory glosses over some of the sadder aspects of the real Phalke’s life. He sails to London despite having no contacts there but gets help from many quarters, and the lilting score seems to goad him on. When he returns to India, it is as if he was barely away—we see his wife waking up, as if from a dream, to discover that her husband is back home, cooing at their new baby. The scene is a reminder of how cinema itself can ‘magically’ transport us to distant places and back within seconds (Phalke was one of our most important magicians). Watching Harishchandrachi Factory, it occurred to me that in recent years we have (perhaps inevitably) seen a number of films about the history of cinema. That great film student and teacher Martin Scorsese alone has made two—The Aviator about producer Howard Hughes, and Hugo, touching on the life of film pioneer Georges Melies. One question that arises is: can a film about a filmmaker resist the temptation of using a style that imitates its subject? In this context, take two other recent films: Hitchcock (2012) about the strain on Alfred Hitchcock’s marriage during the making of Psycho; and acclaimed Bengali film Meghe Dhaka Tara (2013) about the tortured Ritwik Ghatak’s time in an asylum in 1969. You would be hard-pressed to think of two directors more dissimi-lar. Hitchcock worked in the popular genre the suspense thriller and was for much of his career considered an entertainer rather than an artist—as if the two categories are exclusive. He began to be taken seriously when a new generation of critics in the 1950s and 1960s held his work up to deeper scrutiny. Ghatak on the other hand rarely achieved commercial success but is often considered the exemplar of the serious, politically committed artist who never compromised on his integrity. The titles of these two films tell a story, too. Hitchcock might appear a banal title, but it is an acknowledgement that the name alone is enough to create a wealth of associations. Meanwhile, the decision to call the Ghatak film Meghe Dhaka Tara—the same title as one of his own best-known films—may seem confusing but a moment’s reflection shows the aptness of it. The title means “cloud-capped star” or “a star covered by a cloud”, and one can’t think of a terser poetic description of Ghatak’s life. He was a genius who shone bright in his best moments, and his work continues to influence scores of movie buffs and filmmakers; and yet, his career was often under a cloud of alcoholism and self-pity with occasional patches of sunlight breaking through. Though these two films are different in outward appearance, strange resonances run through them. Hitchcock lived a more comfortable life than Ghatak did, but he struggled to sell his vision for Psycho; a trail-blazing departure for him—to bullying big-studio executives of the time. Each director is shown here as having a long-suffering wife who puts up with her husband’s moods and makes sacrifices at the altar of his art. You are no bhadralok, Ghatak’s wife tells him, while Hitchcock’s weary spouse notes that viewers only know about the “great and glorious genius” but not the flawed man. Most of all, both films are aware of how these directors went about designing their filmic universes. Meghe Dhaka Tara is beautifully shot in black-and-white, and unfolds in a deliberately (sometimes tediously) abstract style that is not far from the tone of some of Ghatak’s work. This may be the place for a confession: while I admire many things about Ghatak, I don’t feel a personal connect with his cinema, which is often meandering and pretentious. And perhaps for this reason, while Meghe Dhaka Tara is a brilliant visual experience and a very skilful film, I had trouble engaging with it. The more accessible Hitchcock has its own flaws—simplifications among them—but it is a droll, selfaware tribute that draws motifs from Hitchcock’s own work. In the very first scene, we see the mass murderer Ed Gein (whose macabre adventures inspired Psycho) clunking his brother on the head with a spade, upon which the tone changes from the gruesome to the comical: as the famous funeralmarch tune of Alfred Hitchcock Presents plays on the soundtrack, Hitchcock (played by Anthony Hopkins) enters the frame to introduce this story and to seal a pact with the murderer. Ed Gein committed horrible crimes, Hitchcock tells us, but if he had never existed, we wouldn’t have “our film”. This can be viewed as an artist’s admission to feeding off the ugly aspects of the real world; but the words “our film” are also a reminder that Hitchcock implicated his audience in everything he did. That opening scene catches so much of what the director was about: reflections on the relationship between life and art, between the watcher and the watched; the alternating of black, even tasteless humour with moments of human truth. At another point, Hitchcock stands outside the preview hall, so thrilled by the reception to Psycho that he waltzes about and moves his hands like an orchestra conductor wielding a baton; this is presumably a literalisation of the real Hitchcock’s remark that he liked to “play the audience like an organ”. As cinema continues to ruminate on its own history, one awaits more such films that playfully invoke the spirits of masters past.

Jagori asks the most important question; why are some treated differently from others?

Can we start a thought with a metaphor? Say, there lies a bed in a house. Its four legs are of different heights. Would the bed stand steady? If not, how does one make the bed, steady? That was the question posed before women in one of the monthly meets of Jagori—a non-government organisation working to raise awareness on gender and empowerment among women and men from diverse constituencies in India and its neighbouring countries. There were several options proffered; cut down the longer legs (but would the bed not lose its purpose?), add wood to the smaller ones (it would still wobble when you move it elsewhere). No, the answer lay elsewhere and it came from a quiet, Dalit woman who offered a unique solution. Let’s make the bed again. This one is no longer useful, let’s make a new one. This story best grasps what Jagori tries to do everyday. What it has tried to do all these years. Jagori (literally meaning ‘awaken’) raises the basic question; ‘why me?’ Why was I chosen to not go to school, why was I chosen to eat less, why was I chosen to get married off before the legal age? Why can't I be allowed to work, when others can? Why are my wages less than others? For Jagori, the dichotomy is easy to understand; this is a fight of difference, between the have and the have not. Only that the ‘have nots’ seem to be more women than men, and most of those women hailing from underprivileged backgrounds. It takes a small flicker to start a fire. It also takes small sessions (on basic perspectivebuilding on gender inequality and empowerment of women and thematic workshops on violence against women, their health, education, legal rights and livelihoods) to start a feminist dialogue on why some may have more and some, none at all. Jagori started when seven women, all volunteers at Saheli—a New-Delhi based crisis centre—felt the need to take the feminist consciousness to the rural areas. “We believed that NGOs working in the rural areas were headed by men, and as such subscribed to the male narrative especially when it came to issues such as property laws, division of labour, equal pay, etc. They were often patriarchal and hierarchical themselves,” says Abha Bhaiya, who founded Jagori in 1984. The rest of the team comprised Kamla Bhasin, Runu Chakravarty, Gauri Choudhury, Sheba Chhacchi, Manjari Dingwaney and Joginder Panghaal, with an aim to create a space for women to express themselves, and spread feminist ideology to women in small towns and rural areas. But that was just one of the impetus—the second issue which made the seven uncomfortable was that none of the literature that existed on feminist issues spoke to people who had no literacy levels. So the team wanted to create a medium that would talk to rural women which was not verbose, and was multimedia communication. To clearly develop and see the possibility of a language that was culturally appropriate. And Kamla Bhasin came forward to do this, without any prior planning. She wrote songs based on folk music and turned the thoughts into feministic ideology. The tunes, however, remained simple and identifiable—at least in the Hindi speaking belt where the seven had decided to work, because they were fluent in the language themselves. “Kamla and I, had previously been associated with government schools in the Hindi belt. We believed that we should keep in mind the cultural norms, traits, festivals of the states we were working with. So, we started creating what we called Notebooks for neo-literate women. By then Kamla had a repository of hundreds of songs that she had penned. You can still hear those songs in the buses that play through remote villages. I believe that the songs touched a chord because women, rural women especially, have always used music to express their emotions. And Kamla's creations were written in simple, poignant words,” says Abha Bhaiya. Music became important to Jagori's endeavours. Soon, the team began to make cassettes—words penned by Kamla Bhasin and familiar notes and tunes which the audience grew up with—sold off at a nominal price. That was also the organisation's best economic activity. The cassettes were followed by posters, campaigns, street theatre sessions and feminist training methodology (that the team had evolved) which they began to teach women in institutes and centres set up by them. Till date, Jagori has trained some 2,000 across villages that they have been involved in. “I got very closely involved in the Gramin Mahila programme. That programme gave us the opportunity to go up in scale. The UP part of the programme was handed over to Jagori to train, supervise and to develop material,” says Abha Bhaiya. But how easy was it to convince women that life, their life, was worth a change? For Abha Bhaiya, the process was not that complicated. “When you talk to women about their lives, and go deeper into it, and ask them the question why is their lives the way it is—it starts a conversation. We made a small request to them—start asking aisa kyun? Eya hamare saath hi kyun hotha hain? Mujhe khana kyun kam diya? Mujhe padne kyun nahin diya? Mujhe baag mein kyun jaane nahin detey? Mujhe kisise baat karne kyun nahin detey? “When 40 women start asking similar questions and narrating similar experiences—I was abused by an uncle, I was molested by my father’s friend—then a common bond is formed. “The more they shared, the women also started to realise that it was all a part of a shared world, that they had experienced. A shared perspective. The question then was how is it that women go through the same experience irrespective of their bacgrounds? Aisa kyun?” asks Abha Bhaiya. The Jagori team posed yet another question; why was it, that every woman had a story to share—was it some deep conspiracy behind it all? That could not possibly be an answer. Introspection revealed a system— call it hierarchy or patriarchy—which condoned all the opressive behaviours. One that ensured women’s woes, their stories were almost universal. Jagori gave women an opportunity to perceive that they were not alone—that they had all, at some point of their lives or other, heard sugarcoated words which fed this systemic dis-empowerment through sentiments such as duty, responsibility and honour. The team asked the women, why was it that they, only they, were the ones chosen to uphold the duty / responsibility / honour alone. Why was it not the prerogative of the others? Why were they the second sex? Aisa kyun? It was during these training sessions that some fire flickered first—and the trainees began to question their status quo. Realised that they could have been oppressed, exploited. That often, their basic human rights were being denied. Slowly more questions formed themselves; who gets to decide whether I should be educated? Why do they get to decide on my behalf? Another important thought emerged—why do I let others decide for me? And a dialogue was being built, one session after the other.The Jagori team expected this—the rise of the suppressed voice—after all it was in their nomenclature. And its basic objective was to awaken the human capacity for thought, reason and logic. After all as someone joked, feminism is that ‘bizarre and radical idea’ that women, too, have rights. The sessions yielded one of the most magical and heart warming results. As Abha Bhaiya shares, a woman undergoing training came to her one day to say, “Apne toh hame challi pakradi.” (You gave me a sieve—meaning she could now seive out the unwanted.) “I always fond women in the rural areas more politically sensible. They just required a push. I remember once after a training sessions of the sahelis (as the volunteers are called, literally meaning girlfriends), we went back to the trainees’ villages, and stayed overnight across several households. “One of the sakhi (singularly sahelis were called sakhi) shared a dilemma; that if she tried to stay true to her sakhi, she could lose her family. If she stayed true to her family, she could lose her sakhi. The conflict was between feministic ideals and traditional norms. On one hand were the sahelis standing for feminism and human rights. On the other, stood the family—normative, sociocultural ideas of women’s role. The choice, she admitted, was never easy. “Women, I believe, are aware of feminism and feel it in their bones. Some manage to break down structural obstacles and move on, while some can not,” says Abha Bhaiya. If you pester her enough, she will tell you that the courage is not derived from formal education alone. Awareness and education sometimes go hand in hand. “I have witnessed underprivileged women leaving abusive husbands. I have seen financially strong and educated women asking themselves twice, thrice, if they can make it. Courage is not the result of economic stability or education, alone. Courage is also a matter of inner strength,” she admits. In 1984, when Jagori worked closely with Sikh women who lost their husbands in the Riots— a new agenda emerged when the team witnessed that the widows of the riots were being forced to marry their brothers-in-law to keep property (mainly) within the family. It became clear that there was another core point which needed to be addressed—the fact that few women enjoyed financial freedom. That few had property rights. And that their labour was never recognised. “We say a farmer on his field. It is always on his field. A woman also spends as much time on field as a man does, but it is hardly ever her field or her holding. We realised that Indian women had few labour laws supporting them,” adds Kamla Bhasin. Thus began the legal campaigns to make the world sit up and notice. Whether a Hindu, Muslim or a Sikh woman—Jagori sees no difference between them. What matters is whether that woman is heard. And if not, Jagori’s there to give her the microphone.

Pacy, racy and so, so much fun! A must-read for zombie fans

THIS IS not Max Brooks’ first ode to the zombies, he’s been there and done it with The Zombie Survival Guide. With World War Z, he writes this addictively readable oral history—basically a collection of interviews—with people involved in the great ‘human-zombie war’. The conflict starts in China with a virus which spreads around the globe until the undead are everywhere. First step; panic and hide and afterwards, the fight back. Rather than a grand overview or narrative, World War Z is a collection of individual accounts, wherein Brooks plays the role of an agent of the United Nations Postwar Commission 10 years after the story’s Zombie War. Passages record a decade-long war against zombies, as experienced by people of various nationalities. The personal accounts also describe the religious, geo-political, and environmental changes that resulted from the Zombie War. The best bit of the book is that it feels truly global—thanks to the sheer number of voices (Russian priests, blind Japanese warriors, American grunts). And there are movie-ready scenes. But World War Z is more than just an endless succession of filmable pieces. With his surprisingly realistic takes on government inadequacy, disaster preparedness, and public panic, Brooks refers to worldwide crises from 9/11 to tribal civil wars to Hurricane Katrina, producing a book that will grab you as tightly as a dead man’s fist. Brooks’ acknowledgments conclude with thanks to historian Studs Terkel, zombie visionary George Romero, and John Hackett, who in 1978 wrote a book called The Third World War: August 1985. And one gets the feeling that he takes all three influences seriously. However, this is a fun book at the end of the day. The writer’s zombie fixation is as strong and scary as the zombies themselves. Brooks commits to detail in a way that makes his nightmare world seem plausible. Whether chronicling the inhuman military measures needed to ensure human survival or the experiences of a feral child found in the ruins of Wichita, his survivors’ accounts sound authentic. The format, however involving, keeps World War Z from developing much momentum, but the individual episodes are gripping—particularly the account of a downed Air Force officer’s struggle to survive in rural Louisiana. They are sometimes even moving: one lengthy chapter focusing on the military’s anti-zombie canine forces could bring tears to a ghoul. It is far more affecting than anything involving zombies really has any right to be. The same could be said for the whole book, which opens in blood and guts, turns the world into an oversized vision of hell, then ends with an affirmation of humanity’s ability to survive the worst the world has to offer. It feels like the right book for the times, and that is the eeriest detail of all. If one had to nitpick, the only problem with World War Z becomes apparent near its end. In the final chapter, Good-Byes, for the first time Brooks reintroduces characters who have had their say earlier in the book. Unfortunately, there are so many characters and they have so few distinguishing characteristics, it is not always obvious what their earlier stories were, though in most of the cases it is not really necessary to remember. World War Z is a much better book and novel than it has any right to be given the premise. In fact, Brooks’ world building and story-telling ability makes the novel an easy one to become immersed into. While his characters may be a little flat, this is a novel more of ideas than about characterisation. The book is an enjoyable novel that has an uncanny ability to draw the reader into the near future apocalyptic world Brooks has invented. Similar in style to Warday by Whitley Strieber and James Kunetka, World War Z was inspired by The Good War, an oral history of World War II by Studs Terkel, and by the zombie films of George A. Romero. Critics have praised the novel for reinventing the zombie genre; the audiobook version, performed by a full cast including Alan Alda, Mark Hamill, and John Turturro, won an Audie Award in 2007.

What You Need to Know to Unlock Your Full Potential

JOHN MATTONE is a highly-respected name in the business leaders’ fraternity worldwide. Following his excellent work, Mattone has been recognised by the reputed Thinkers50 as one of the world’s leading management gurus. Leadership Excellence Magazine has identified him as one of the top independent leadership consultants across the globe. Mattone’s latest book, Intelligent Leadership: What You Need to Know to Unlock Your Full Potential ranks high among the thought provoking and development books on leadership. The author says that Intelligent Leadership equips an aspiring leader with knowledge, skills, and above all passion that one needs to become a true leader. The book is relevant for any leader who is aspiring to make his present role more effective, operationally focused, strategic and balanced.Intelligent Leadership, especially caters to the those leaders who are making an effort to excel in their respective fields. The book got released at a time when worldwide the economic market is highly volatile and unpredictable. Organisations are in desperate need of business leaders who can inspire and motivate others to get desired results. After reading the book, an aspiring leader would be better prepared to meet challenges. He can also apply some of the learnings from the book in his day-to-day life. The books offers three unique leadership tools—the Wheel of Leadership Success, the Map of Leadership Maturity, and the Leadership Enneagra. The book helps the readers to analyse the outer-core competencies like ability to make decision, emotional leadership, and communication skills. In the Leadership Wheel of Success, Mattone shows an advanced diagram on how to translate action from one's fundamental character and self-concept. Further, the diagram identifies nine different types of leaders including perfectionists, entertainers, thinkers, disciples, etc. Perfectionists are reasonable, logical, and fair, while entertainers are those valued for social services, but often risk projecting an image to substitute their true selves to gain admiration and respect. Similarly, thinkers are those having highly-developed intelligence and disciples are loyal, committed, and dependable. One can use these tools to finetune leadership qualities and can work accordingly on their strengths and weaknesses. The books helps in improving key competencies including communication, strategic thinking, decision making, and talent and team leadership. The book guides individuals to incorporate these qualities with inner traits including values, character, and belief to help unlock and unleash greatest leadership potential. The book tries to portray itself as one of the most complete guide ever for leaders.

There’s only one thing you won’t find in Prague: and that is pretentiousness

“I’ll never run into anyone I know,” I said to myself while packing my suitcase for a trip to Prague. Indeed, I had never even heard of the Czech Republic being touted as a trendy destination: all the glory seemed to belong to the other countries of Western Europe. By the first afternoon of my little holiday, I had met a couple of Gujarati-speaking girls who had scoped out every vegetarian eatery in town, a businessman from Delhi and his wife who had come to buy up as much Czech crystal chandeliers and tableware as they could fill their private jet (yes!) with before heading home and an excitable family of four who were trying to find a way of taking a picture of themselves with the famous clock of the town hall and without anybody else in the frame (I could have told them that it was impossible). By the middle of Day Two I had stumbled upon an ashram run by a Czech Krishna-bhakt. Complete with courtyard where a (Czech) swami sat before an awe-stricken audience, it was like any other house in Paharganj, except that this was on the steeply sloping hill that led to the Royal Palace in a European capital! I am not suggesting that Gopal (as the ashram was called) was typical of Prague, but to see such an offbeat entity on the venerable Mala Strana, a short walk away from Prague’s enormous royal palace complex, showed a certain willingness to bypass the conventional. The thinking out of the box could be clearly seen in other spheres too, notably jazz. The chief impression I have of Prague is music virtually spilling out of the most unlikely of places. Walk by an old church near the iconic Charles Bridge and you’d hear a double bass being tuned. Double bass in a church? Yes, and that’s because of the Czech propensity to think laterally. No place to perform music? Not enough worshippers to fill up the pews in church? Well, what could be more natural than to make the connection. And the retirees that you see all over the city, holding microphones, guitars and trombones–they are jazz musicians. Depending where the mood takes them, you could either see them at the irresistible Old Town Square from where there was a 360 degree panorama of churches, private houses, public buildings and the Old Town Tower with its Astronomical Clock. Or you could see them performing on the Charles Bridge. The average age of the musicians might 70 but there was little comparison between them and a bunch of dadajis sitting on a Mumbai park bench wiling away the way the hours between lunch and dinner. Jazz appeared to be the music of choice in Prague much to my delight; in fact, what struck me forcibly was the quality of music that even street musicians turned out. Many of them had instruments that defied classification and appeared to be made of auto spare parts or metal objects of unknown provenance. However they were made, the artiste playing them could extract their fullest potential. The senior citizen band that I grew to love because of the chutzpah with which they occupied the most prime locations in the city had what looked like a car radiator which emitted musical notes. Another lad with the trademark unkempt curls and scruffy sandals of a street musician used what looked like a hub cap of a car tyre to enthral passers-by at one end of Charles Bridge. If you find Rome and Paris quintessential walking cities, you should find Prague child’s play. Within a five kilometre radius is almost everything a tourist will visit. On one side of the Vltava River is the Old Town, parts of which date back to the 11th century. On the other side, sprawling up a hill is the ‘new’ town, called so only by comparison: it is well over a century old, but compared to the other side of the river, it does seem brand new. You don’t need to walk very far or very fast: beer bars, street cafes and outdoor eateries can be found every few steps in case you need liquid refreshment. Pilsner and Budweiser are the two most common styles of beer. “Had the Czechs been half as savvy as we are, there would have been no question of us having used the Budweiser label back home,” said a lanky American to me and my friends. We were sitting at the table with the best view in a Rick Steves-approved café on top of the same hill as the Royal Palace. My friends and I were taking our time capturing the ‘Facebook moment’ when we noticed the American couple trying hard not to look impatient for their turn at the table. It was the most coveted table in Bellavista, the most attractive garden café in the entire city, and we were not about to relinquish it without a fight. So my two friends and I invited the couple to join us at the table, which is when we learnt that the American was a lawyer who specialised in patents. He sounded slightly apologetic that his country had the patent on the Budweiser label when, by rights, it belonged to the Czech Republic. He felt even more strongly about the label ‘London Pilsner’ which he insisted was a “mala fide juxtaposition of misleading names”. Pilsner is a town in the Czech Republic. It was where a world-famous style of beer has been made for over ten centuries now. The micro breweries and the occasional monastery around the country are throwbacks to that tradition. Moravia, a province known for its wineries, makes a perfectly good easydrinking wine, but it’s nowhere in the category of the country’s beer. Hundreds of gallons get consumed in the restaurants on Wenceslas Street, in the outdoor eateries of the Old Town Square and in local watering holes where tourists never get to. The one charming aspect of the country is the patent pride they take in showcasing their food and drink. You’ll see the tagline outside many of the restaurants that dot Prague “Authentic Czech cuisine”. Some of it is regional; some celebrates the cold cuts and delicatessen products that are sold everywhere. Others just showcase the hearty, unpretentious food of the country: generous cuts of meat, primarily beef and pork, smothered over with a sauce and a couple of dumplings to round things off. Then, there are the farmers’ markets with their accent on carefully tended fruit and vegetables. There’s only one thing you won’t find in Prague: and that is pretentiousness.

Chef Sim of R.E.D. believes tasty food is farm fresh and barely tampered with

Before Chef Sim Poh Geok travelled to India in 2003, he was warned that the country was a really hot one. Chef landed in the nation’s capital on a wet, chilly morning, soaked and wet to his bones. Not just the weather, there were other differences he had to reconcile with; differences in attitude towards food, a diverse palate to please, and the momentous task of scouting for the right ingredients before he could do justice to his Singaporean cooking legacy. However, there must have been magic in this country which worked—least, better than Russia which Chef quit after two months of stay—and Chef Raymond stayed put for 10 years now. In fact, he stayed put in the Rare Eastern Dining (R.E.D.) in Radisson Blu MBD Hotel Noida for the better part of those 10 years that he spent here. “I lost my mother at a young age. My father thought it wiser to send me to stay with my elder sister, a decision which changed my life. My brother-in-law was a Chef and I watched him closely. It was he who encouraged me to pursue this profession right after school. I joined him in his kitchen without any training. I also did two years of compulsory Army service but returned right afterward, picking up from where I had left.” A serendipitous entry into the kitchen led the Chef’s to discovering his calling. Today, he admits that there is nothing that he loves more than cooking and putting his dishes before customers. The humble beginning at a small eatery also had its advantages—Chef Sim remains devoted to (what he calls) plain (I call it healthy) cooking, practised at homes. “I mean little interference with ingredients. Take farm fresh produce, toss them with a little sauce, and serve. Don’t overwhelm the vegetables, meat or fish. I also have a strict policy of not using ajinomoto because it is detrimental to health. Instead, I prefer using aromatic powder (akin to a five-spice powder),” he says. Alas, it seems that not all prefer their food that fresh. “For those who want a bit more oil, frying and cooking I switch between Chinese-Chinese and Indian- Chinese cooking quite expertly. The Indian palate, I’ve come to realise, prefers a stronger taste,” he says with a laugh. This expert-switch-mode took time. Before he became an expert, wars were waged, especially with the suppliers. “Fish was, and remains, an issue. I am used to seeing live catches, cleaned, cooked and served. Here the fish is frozen,” he says with an exasperated shake of his head. When it comes to quality one knows that Chef Sim means business. After the interview is over I taste his prawn tempuras, a Thai chicken salad and broccoli and mushrooms tossed in oyster and garlic sauce. The prawns were fresh and fresh! A glance at him, also tell you a lot. He is perhaps one of the leanest chefs I’ve met. He admits with a twinkle that the food he cooks at home would seem ‘almost raw’ to my Indian tongue. He also chuckles when I ask him his favourite vegetable. “I don’t like greens so much as I like meat,” he says. The man has done something right indeed—under his guidance R.E.D. at the Radisson Blu MBD Hotel Noida, has become one of the most respected names, serving Pan Asian cuisine. R.E.D. concentrates on Cantonese, Malaysian and Honk Kong cuisines. “Singapore combines all three influences in a melting pot of tastes. If you look at the bigger picture, you will see that the emphasis is on freshness and quality. I believe that Singapore cooks its food a little blander than India, and it is also a little more sweet,” he adds as an afterthought. Chef Sim has served as an Assistant Cook at Prince City Restaurant, as a Chief Chef at The Pier Seafood Restaurant in Singapore (his sea food fetish explained). He also served a stint as the Master Chef at prestigious Raffles Country Club and Changi Beach Club (Singapore). Today, Chef Sim shuttles between Singapore (where his family lives) and NOIDA (his second home). When he is back here, he has all the Singaporean ingredients to add that punch to his signature dishes which include fish in Mala sauce, coffee pork ribs, black pepper crab and a variety of dimsums. I wonder for the man who is thus passionate about cooking, does he not see himself one day to start something on his own? “Well, it is easier said than done. In Singapore especially, it is difficult to start something on your own. We have really strict labour laws and it is difficult to find staff.” So, our country’s doing something right? “Oh no, I have no complaints here,” he says with a chuckle. “It is great to serve people with good food and the satisfaction is enormous whereever you do it.” I believe him indeed, considering he offers me food thrice during the interview. Needless to say, I gave in.

THROUGHOUT cultures, families are the primary agency for the survival of the human race. Though its forms vary, tasks performed by families are universal; transmitting parents’ core competencies required by social, economic and political forces of the civil society (social groups) to their offspring. It was a task that my father took seriously. As children, my sister, Monica, and I frequently accompanied our father to the family press. He did not do so only to initiate us into the “family business”, but because he wanted us to appreciate the magic of the printed word. It is because of him that my sister and I are deeply immersed in the world of print media today; he instilled his love in us. For those wondering why I choose to reminisce, it is because July will be the birth anniversary of my father; it is a time for introspection and reflection. It has been nearly two years that I have been at the helm of Democratic World. Truth be told, this magazine was as much my father’s idea as it is mine. My father dreamt to offer a platform where all voices were equal. He wished to put a spotlight on, well, knowing him, everything! Every profession, sector, issue and people were important to him. At a personal level Democratic World is more than what I do; it is a daughter's offering to her mentor and guide. It is my humble way of saying; we heard you Papa, learnt a lot and thank you. Those who have been with us all this time know that we have tried to bring before you people from across milieus; not for the sake of “variety” alone (though that too is a good reason) but because it matters to me that you, my precious readers, get a slice of life. This month, we spoke to the fierce and fearless, M. Damodaran. “Fierce” because of his determination and dedication and “fearless” because you rarely come across a man with such a strong work ethic. It was (as always) a rewarding experience. There are the usual sections; a worthy mention is the Issue. The idea of legalising “betting” in the world of sports has been much mulled around us today. The people, especially the sports loving men around me, have been deeply affected by the spot-fixing accusations during IPL. Cricket is more than a sports to Indians, it is a matter of national pride. Will involving money taint its sanctity? Read on to find out. As always, email and write to tell us how we can improve.