ANNIE NAMALA//The Right to Education Act-2009 was constructed especially to enable private schools get that opportunity to receive recognition or government accreditation. Under this Private School Policy, schools were given three years to start this process. Which, personally, I believe is a fairly solid amount of time. I believe private schools should have taken initiatives to set the ball rolling by now. Available statistics, however, paint a different picture. One can not simply blame a state government for delays in Act implementations. Acts have a policy framework under which all implementation work has to be performed—and one of those step includes private schools seeking government recognition. On its part, the state and central governments can only extend the period of the which has been granted to non-recognised private schools to start the process of getting accreditation. While we are talking about this Act, what we need to keep in mind is not the number of people employed with these schools or which entrepreneurs are running these schools. What is cardinal here is the question of growth and development of students who are in this school. Norms that govern the recognition policy have some significance attached to it. For example, think of a classroom with 35 students, you need a minimum classroom size where the children can sit, move around and engage with each other creatively. You also need ventilation. Playgrounds are also important for the holistic development of students. However, it is debatable whether most schools in urbane areas meet these requirements. Circulars have been sent from the HRD Ministry to school managements to provide some sort of a playground to their students. If school managements have problems in keeping their standards up to mark, then it is fair enough that they come under scrutiny. Because no child deserves to be cooped up like chicken, neither do the chicken. Having said that, I believe it is only fair that government schools also fall under the purview of the RTE Act. Because, at the end, the Act is for the children of this country, be it from private or government schools. But—as is evident—no such steps are being taken by the government-run schools. By the government’s own estimation only around 4 to 5 per cent of government schools follow all the nine rules that have been laid down in the Act. There, clearly, a huge difference between the excepted and actual circumstances. The government needs a road map as to how and when its own indicators will fall in line. The difference between a government set-up and a private set-up is that there is some level of monitoring and tracking at the government system, while the private sector lacks the monitoring completely. Civil society organisations also monitor government institutions but there is no such scrutiny for privately-run institutions. So, it becomes especially important that private schools are regulated—otherwise no one else would bother about them. However, that does not mean that the government is let off-the-hook. They should themselves be accountable to the norms, which is why after the RTE Act, we see that a flurry of activities have started; like recruitment, training and even institutional trainings, are happening everywhere. To say that enough is being done will be making a factually incorrect statement, given that millions of children are moving to higher grades while schools that they go to do not provide adequate facilities and learning and/or lack proper infrastructure. They will never get back their stolen childhood. This is why instead of doing away with the RTE Act, policymakers, academics and civil society members wish the Act to encompass children till the age of 18 to fall under it. There was some amount of planning in the government circles to expand the RTE Act till Class X. Personally, I believe that it should extend to children in the 12th standard as well. However, we also understand that the initial target (14 years) is where we need to start. Because this is the time when children need maximum care—to survive, to become better individuals. This is the time when quality education leaves the maximum impact as it is the most vulnerable period. Other than taking care of the financial issues, the society also needs to deal with administrative gaps in our education system which is divided into secondary and higher secondary education. My larger concern remains for children who do not go to schools—children of migrants, minorities and those from tribal backgrounds. Minority groups face larger problems especially if they come from a particular social background or caste. In addition to accessibility, they face an additional challenge of not being able to identify with the education that is being imparted. Hence the major task in front of the government is to understand how it can provide quality education to all. It is indeed a challenge—because the system does not recognise their needs. Dominant classes and elite groups are already creating a huge divide in the society by exploiting groups coming from less privileged backgrounds. How much more can you extract from them? One will have to focus on the large mainstream population, the group to which these children belong to, in order to narrow the population dividend. The main challenge for the government is how it will it change the mindset of the people towards these children. How will it mold the syllabus to suit the needs of these children and how will it provide them with life skills so that they can hope for a better future. There are various distinctions in the private schools: private-aided, private minority aided, private unaided. The private minority aided schools have been let off-the-hook and they don't have to make the 25 per cent reservation for the underprivileged kids. That just leaves the private unaided (elite) schools to reserve seats under the clause, as aided schools are already mandated to provide the reservations. The children even, are divided into two groups: economically weaker and disadvantaged (those belonging to the schedule castes and schedule tribes). To many it may come off as charity and or a benefit to disadvantaged sections but I don’t see it as that, I see it as an awareness created in all sections of the society regarding the issues. Because it the elite society that makes policies, market decisions and these sections do not know anything about the disadvantaged sections. The elite classes also feel that they would be providing knowledge to the weaker sections but how can this be the case when they barely understand the other classes. There are many things we can learn from the minorities if we give them enough space to rise up in the society. The main challenge is how we create a mindset that will allow us to co-operate and co-exist symbiotically.
AN IDEA conceptualised by the mission and vision to impart education to all, the Act was looked upon as one of the most influential policies putting tremendous responsibility on the governments’ shoulders to ensure that every child in the country receives basic education. The World Bank education specialist for India, Sam Carlson, quotes: “The RTE Act is the first legislation in the world that puts the responsibility of ensuring enrollment, attendance and completion on the government. It is the parents’ responsibility to send the children to schools in the US and other countries.” Three years down the line, the RTE seems to be a lot weaker, with loopholes emerging in all aspects of the law. Be it the infrastructural requirement, assessment process or the teacher recruitment procedure, certain ambiguities over the details and instructions in the law have caused stress to both policy-makers and implementers. Private schools were earlier given a deadline of October 13, 2012, for the complete enactment of the rule which was then extended to March 2013—still consequences of the Act remain unclear. Private Schools, parents, teachers and the governments, have their versions of the story as to why the Act is failing. However, no one seems to have the right answers. DW looks at this issue and talks to experts, Parth Shah of the Centre for Civil Society, and Annie Namala, Head of Centre for Social Equity and Inclusion. Namala was appointed as a member of the National Advisory Council for the implementation of the RTE Act in 2010. So is the RTE doing more wrong than right. Does it need a new medicine to heal itself? PARTH J SHAH// The intention behind the formulation of the RTE was to universalise elementary education. Like every law in this land, the RTE has relevant components, and of course certain weaker components–making it a mixed Act. If you look at it and try to analyse its long-term impact, it would have a positive effect only if those relevant and somewhat more difficult aspects are implemented. However, it seems that the so-called weaker sections of the Act have received more mileage. Those are being implemented across a greater space and with greater consistency. Of course, the Act itself does not have all ‘wrongs’. One of the highly debatable, important and negative part of the law is of course the school recognition norms. Unfortunately all norms laid down are input-focused—they focus for example on the structure of the building, classroom size, teacher qualifications, teacher salaries—however, not on the important matters such as hours of interaction between teachers and students. This is why many people have labelled RTE as the right to schooling than the right to education. If the RTE is not properly implemented a student can be in a school for eight years receiving “free” and “compulsory” lessons. But whether he or she will emerge educated is open to debate. Data suggest that in India, today, more than half of our students go to low-fee, ‘budget’ private schools. Parents from economically underprivileged sections sacrifice their hard-earned income to send their children to schools which may charge anywhere between `50 to `300. My other concern is that if and when RTE’s input norms are implemented such schools won't survive. According to the Centre for Civil Society research, fees will hike almost 10 times than what they are now to meet the input norms of being a ‘recognised’ school. So will it be right to call an Act that closes more schools than opens them as promoting a “right” to education. My argument is that even though the private schools are not ‘perfect’, particularly the budget ones, the way to deal with this should not be to close them down but to create options and encourage competition. If government schools improve, parents will be more than happy to send their kids to those. Government schools not only not charge any tuition fee but also give you mid-day meals, free uniforms and textbooks. Along with the private schools, more attention should be paid to the public schools. Another weak point is that the Act doesn't talk about learning outcomes, focus is completely on inputs. The Millennium Development Goals also focus on elementary education and not on K-12. Why is RTE encompassing only those students under 14 years and not those who are 16 and above. What is great about the Act is the way it is being implemented, specifically the roles that the Centre and the state governments are playing in its implementation. The central Act has left its implementation powers to states and actually allows a state to make their own rules. A good example is the state of Gujarat. There the RTE norms are more focused on outputs than inputs. This means that if a school is fulfilling the learning outcomes—educating its students—then the state overlooks the fact that it may not have the best building, large classrooms or a playground. A survey conducted under the RTE asked parents to declare the monthly expenditure on their child’s education in government schools. Delhi, for example, showed that it spends an average of `1,200 per month per child in government schools. The budget for the private ones on the other hand was `400 a month and produced slightly better outcomes—according to parents. So if the government comes up with a more flexible voucher system, people would have a better choice of where to send their children, hence making it more egalitarian. It is safe to say that in all respects, be it cost effectiveness or efficiency and delivery of learning outcomes, the budget private schools seem to be a good option. So one thing that the government should do is to support them and help them improve their standards of education. My personal opinion on the 25 per cent reservation in the private schools for economically weaker section is that it is one of the better components of the law. The fact of life is that people like us can afford to go to better schools while most can’t. There is an increasing disparity in the access to education. Society is suppose to provide equal opportunities to all its children. One way to decrease it to make sure that some percentage, in this case 25 per cent, are able to go to private schools. As I mentioned earlier, the parts of the law that are good are not going to get implemented well, but the parts that are bad are going to get implemented more strongly, the simple reason being the self interest of the people involved in it. Because if a private school does not fulfil the norms then it is made to close down. We read about reports in Andhra Pradesh where 300 schools were shut down. Within three weeks, all came up and running. Now ask yourself what changed in two weeks time? It can’t be that the infrastructure has changed in two weeks time, simply the schools pay money, that is supposed to be paid to the inspector to continue its existence. So, the self interest is such that part of the norms that are negative make it easy to get implemented more quickly and efficiently all across the country profiteering everyone in the process and the good part of the law would not get implemented because private schools don’t want it, its a cost to them, governments, as usual, will overlook it. Its the dynamics of the situation which makes the bad things implemented faster than the good things.
I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER the first time I used the tilde (~) on Facebook. It was the day I landed in Guwahati, the capital of Assam, for the first time and chanced upon the Brahmaputra. I needed to put that love at first sight into an update on Facebook, and yet, nothing seemed adequate. Like lovers who inscribe the names of their lovers on tree trunks and walls, I put only the name of my infatuation online: ‘B~r~a~h~m~a~p~u~t~r~a’. It was the six year old painter in me who’d found no other way to communicate the river’s flow than with this, the ~ sign. I didn’t know the name of the sign then; when did a lover ever care for names? Except that I had used it once, not as a lover but as a student of mathematics in high school. Two-and-a-half years have passed since then, and I’ve noticed the sign take on a new life on Facebook. ~ is the tilde, a stand-in for ‘n’, to indicate the nasal sound. Like a cook who’s discovered a new spice and doesn’t know which dish to put it in, I began looking for stories of its origin. In Japanese, an Australian friend told me, the ~ (called ‘wave dash’) could stand for sarcasm or sigh (imagine the range then!); in Vietnamese, ‘the tilde (or du ngã) is used to specify a steep, glottalised, dipping and rising tone’; in Arabic, to denote a long sound; in French for abbreviation; in English, to mean a range (9~12). In phonetics, the tilde above a letter indicates nasalisation, superimposed onto the middle of a letter, pharyngealisation, and below a letter laryngealisation. What a varied journey of the senses then, from its name deriving from the Latin ‘titulus’ meaning ‘title’, its first use in ancient Greek orthography to represent a rise in pitch, to its inclusion as a distinct character in English in the 1960s, followed by the computer company IBM’s use of it in computer applications, and now to its recent avatar as announcer, it’s been a journey from sight and touch to the aural. The ~ on Facebook, coming after an update or a post to a weblink, is an appeal to the eye and the ear – hear, hear, read this. I cannot distinctly remember when I used ~ the second time on Facebook. It must have been a few months after the Brahmaputra wave – I say this because I do not have any memory of using it for ‘decorative’ purpose ever again. My Timeline tells me that I gradually began using it as a substitute for the colon. So when I’d tag someone’s name to draw his or her attention, I’d type in that name in the comment box and use the Tilde: for example, ‘Manjiri ~ ...’, where I’d earlier have used a comma or a colon, as in ‘Manjiri, ...’ or ‘Manjiri: ...’. Or I’d post a link and quote from the essay with ~ as suffix. I cannot say what made me do this, but what I do know is that I was not alone. What I found interesting was that none of us were imitating each other in the use of the tilde, but independently, without each other’s knowledge, we were turning it into a new punctuation protocol on Facebook. The semiotician in me looks at the contours of ~ and wonders what could be so attractive about it that it’s managed to charm such a wide cross-section of Facebookers. My cousin, the resident geek, tells me about the use of the sign in what is known as ‘Strings’, ... or how in Linux, ~ would take one to the Home directory. I find the terminology interesting: string and home have interpretable lives of their own outside a computer screen. Are we at-home—or @home—when we use ~ then? In C++, it is said to be the class destructor, again a phrase that, taken out of context, agrees with my affinity for ~. The Urban Dictionary, our online alma mater on irreverence, says that the character ~ is colloquially used in written form in some areas of the UK to denote... base behaviour. ~ can also cover flirtatious behaviour with the opposite sex: you are never ~ with the same sex. And then this: ‘In Internet culture, the appearance of tildes have come to connote strong reactions of happiness or approval. It stems from young computer users in highly excited states having a tendency to miss the exclamation point (!) key while typing, resulting in tildes becoming mixed with exclamation points in their writings’. Also, this funny bit: ‘The character ~ ... used to simulate smoke emanating from a cigarette’. The English Language & Usage website clearly states that a ~ should not be used to sign a name. ‘Should the tilde symbol (~) be used to sign your name? It seems quite commonplace on Internet forums but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it used in books,’ asks someone. To which, one of the respondents says, ‘In Wikipedia, four tildes are used to sign a post. This character sequence will be recognised ... by the software and turned into the user name and a date stamp. This does not mean that a tilde vote is a valid character to sign your name elsewhere, web or paper’. More than the answers, which are more or less common knowledge, what I find interesting is the difference that the questioner draws between the ‘Internet’ and ‘Books’. And herein again my curiosity about this difference: how did ~ become the new colon and quotation mark, and how did it suddenly come to be used to make a distinction between an online text and a printed page. The tilde is used in electronics to indicate alternating current, in mathematics to denote equivalence or an approximate value, in economics to denote indifference, in Microsoft to denote temporary hidden files (Document 12.doc becomes ~$cument12. doc in the temporary directory as Microsoft users are aware), in games to open the console. In some computer games, Sigmund Freud would have been happy to know, the ~ stands for snakes. What does it stand for on Facebook? I wish I knew. It is interesting that among the many nicknames computer programmers have for ~, two are the ‘squiggle’ and ‘not’. Yes, ‘not’. Perhaps that is what the Facebook is: a continent of squiggles, full of our illegible scrawls (also an indicator of the informality of the medium); and ‘not’, the postfix negation that has come to characterise a form of sarcasm that is all too evident. Or could the racist rumour be true? That Facebook, as ~ denotes, has a nasal accent?
It was an ordinary day. Superman was not wearing his customary red-and-blue costume but a white Nehru shirt and grey checked, straight-fit pants. He was not in his usual zipping around mode or saving the world; he was, instead, waiting for me, an ordinary jounalist to arrive and pester him with questions about his secret work—his Sunshine Project. Kuku Arora, our alleged superman (alleged; because I never saw him in his costume) is Superman indeed to his 172 children for who Arora runs a series of never impromtu classes. Arora never thought he will start an NGO, he never thought he would be taking care of so many slums kids. It all started with the intention of helping out one child, a two-year-old baby— Roshni—born with just one hand. The Aroras met Roshni on their way to a friend’s house, when she accosted the two begging. They obliged. What began as a singular incident of trying to ‘do good’, soon turned into a habit, until the day Roshni disappeared. A distressed Arora hunted for her till he spotted her begging on a busy road. Arora took Roshni back to her house and placed a proposal before her parents. The Aroras would take care of Roshni in every possible way, they would provide her with food, clothing and education. The parents were reluctant, their easy source of income was being taken away. “I had to bribe them; I told them that I would take care of their other two children as well, including their only son. That worked,” says Arora. This happened 11 years ago. Today, Roshni is a sprightly teen with an artificial hand, with which she ‘high-fives’ her friends. When the news of Roshni’s semi-adoption reached the other children in the neighborhood, they all wished to be a part of Arora’s family. “Within a few weeks, my group of three became a group of 17 young people. The other children came looking for a way out of begging, how could I say no?” As the group grew, Arora decided to rent a room in the slum where t children would be taught and get ready for entrance examinations in proper schools. However, the landlord, when he heard of the plan, asked Arora and his pupils to leave. His reason still manages to amaze Arora. “He told me that he wanted to leave his room to his son, like his father had for him and then went on to add, if all slum children became educated, no one would rent his room!” So, Arora, a fashion designer by profession, brought the children to his workshop in Sayed-ul-ajab, a small village near Saket, New Delhi. Today, Arora teaches 172 children—some in their teens and some even younger—and provides them with three, free meals a day, along with books, stationary, school bags, shoes and uniforms. Arora has now added a small resting-cum-sleeping area for the children and a toy-cum-play room for the smaller ones. His house is open for all kids, however, all kids have to follow a rule: No child can beg or work for money. The children are allowed to help their parents but they cannot work independently. This, perhaps, is why Arora’s kids look different from other slum kids. Their shoulders are not bent with the burden of earning a living. As numbers grew, it increasingly became difficult for Arora to manage all the children and carry out his business at the same time—so he started to seek out volunteers. That’s when his business contacts in Germany came into good use. Now, most of his classes are conducted by both international and national volunteers—nieces, nephews, sons and friends of the people he knows. All that effort have started to show. The children I met were all proficient in English and were students in reputed schools across Delhi, such as DPS, RK Puram, and Amity International. Thanks to international volunteers some of Arora’s students also know a smattering of German. Despite all their great work, until last year, Sunshine Project was not even an NGO! And they had no funding as well—four years ago, a German friend started a fund for his Sunshine Project and tied with Lufthansa Airlines which also promotes his work by spreading the word and asking for small donations from its passengers. “More importantly it is the hard work that sees us through,” says Arora, “but it is all worth it.” The smiling faces of children are testimony to the fact that his efforts are being paid off. “It feels good when the children give you so much love, the satisfaction that comes from making them smile is something one cannot describe. One time, I was sitting with a customer, when a little girl called Firdose came and stood outside the door. I went to her to ask her why she was not in class. She touched my feet and told me, ‘today a new life begins’. It was her first day at DPS, RK Puram.” As the interview comes to an end, Arora asks me to meet ‘his kids’. As I enter the room filled with bustling kids, they notice us and break into a ‘good morning ma’am’. When I request them to sit down in Hindi, Arora laughs and asks me to speak in English as they are used to in ‘school’. A boy of seven, Aalam, a student of Amity International, becomes my usher and introduces me to his favourite toys. As we are done, Aalam bids me goodbye, he has a fight to pick with another boy who has been bullying him. As he escorts me on my way out, Arora tells me he has to rush upstairs, and resume his work. Perhaps, it is time to shed the corporate attire and don the Superman suit?
WHAT IS most important while selecting a good cricket team? How do you value a cricket team in a league that has not been launched yet? These are some of the questions Ravi Ramu and his friends had to find answers to after bidding for one of the teams in the inaugural Karnataka Premier league in 2009. The answers to these questions form the crux of the book Inside Indian T20. The book penned by Ramu takes readers into a journey of the process of setting up a T20 squad in a nascent league (KPL) and leading it to victory in the first season. Says Ramu: “We started with just an idea to bid for a team. We had no idea about the returns from the investment from the venture and whether it would be a success. We decided to take a gamble and it paid off.” He adds, “I have worked in many management roles across the globe and was initially wary on how managing a team would be. It has been a great experience and I have enjoyed it thoroughly. It has helped me take to the T20 format of the game as well.” Ramu is a keen follower of the game and felt that a side needs a good captain and a coach. “They need to be people who would rally their players and make everyone give their best. I wanted a captain and coach who have the correct attitude to lead.” “This holds true in a cricket field and a corporate office, ” says Ramu. Giving an example from the cricket field, he contends, “Mike Brearley was a mediocre player, but an excellent captain. He had the knack of managing a team well and getting results from the players. That is the perquisite for any captain.” Ramu says that he met his players only once in the course of the tournament. “I do not think owners have a role to play in how a team performs on field. That is the job of the coach and the captain.” “I feel that it is very important that every player should be in his own zone, when he is on the field,” says Ramu He adds, “I do not agree with the oft repeated statement that cricket is a team game.” “It is not a team game like football or hockey, where you need passes, good saves and a team effort to do a good job. In cricket, when you are batting or bowling, you are playing an individual game. The team does not determine how you bat or bowl as an individual,” says Ramu. The main problem that the Indian team has faced in its slump over the last 18 months has been the lack of a communicative coach and captain, says Ramu. “You need someone who makes you comfortable in the zone or coaxes you into it. That does not seem to be happening, which is a major cause of concern.”
IN TODAY’S tough times, it seems that everyone is looking for a leader to bring positive changes and glory to the world. Barbara Kellerman’s book, The End of Leadership, critically examines the fact why and how the $50m leadership industry led by America has so far not been able to produce leaders to bring positive changes in the lives of millions of people, marred by socio-economic conflicts. The author highlights how the mechanics of leadership have evolved and changed over the period of time. Kellerman is candid enough to acknowledge the growing gap between teaching and the practice of leadership and leadership industry. She laments that the followers are becoming disillusioned by their leaders. The leadership industry, however, booms while in practice leadership is not able to perform, be it in politics or in industry. The book, The End of Leadership is broken down into two parts. The first part is about the changing relationship of leadership and followers and second in on the booming leadership industry. The author says that leadership, following the golden rule of change is the only constant thing which is subject to change. Earlier, leaders were meant to dominate follower. These days the followers are smarter and stronger and need to be persuaded and recommend by the leaders. The shift is very much evident thoughout the history. Ordinary people like Gandhi, King and Mandela shaped the world in the past 100 years. They communicated with people through influence, rather than to command or dictate, to achieve their goals. These changes are integrated in culture and environment. Even in today’s society, dismantling of power structure is visible. The culture is such that the followers pry into their leaders’ personal lives—and to hold them accountable for what they do is required. WikiLeaks was able to expose and portray some of the global leaders as being inapt, weak and many a times corrupt. The other part of the book examines the leadership industry. There seems, the author says, a worldwide obsession with producing leaders. In the past few years, words like leader and leadership seem embedded in mission and goal of many universities and private institution. The industry has flourished and resulted in mushrooming of several leadership schools, academy or center of leadership. Today the industry has taken a legal and professional shape and attracts highly paid executives. Some of the programmes, despite all the merits, however, have failed to develop good leaders. The author points out that there is no plan to stemming or slowing progress of bad leaders. The entire focus is on the development of new leaders. This area has shown little development and innovation in the past. She emphasised on the fact that one has to understand that current form of leadership, style and functioning is different from what it used to be understood and taught. Keller is optimistic that despite all the ill, the industry has the potential to create strong leaders, good followers and develop discourse intelligence. She says that several assumptions about leadership should be questioned in order to stay relevant in the future. The End of Leadership tells two tales. The first is about change—about how and why leadership and followership have changed over time, especially in the last 40 years. As a result of cultural evolution and technological revolution, the balance of power between leaders and followers has shifted— with leaders becoming weaker and followers stronger. The second narrative is about the leadership industry itself. In this provocative and critical volume, Barbara Kellerman raises questions about leadership as both a scholarly pursuit and a set of practical skills: Does the industry do what it claims to do—grow leaders? Does the research justify the undertaking? Do we adequately measure the results of our efforts?
Day One: the otherwise buzzing Indira Gandhi International Airport looked deserted on that “blue” Wednesday morning I was to board a plane to China. There I was, accompanying my father—a businessman with several China offices—on one of his regular business trips. The plan had seemed brilliant when I had first concocted it; emotionally blackmail my businessman father to let me accompany him on one of his trips to China. But there I was second guessing; time in the country also meant hours cooped up in my pater’s office; could that be a laugh riot? Not really. Our first stop was to be Guangzhou. When the departure time for the Guangzhou-bound Southern China Airline flashed on board, I was hit by a familiar, pre-flight churning. For a well-travelled boy, I remained, strangely enough, physiologically ill-equipped for air travel. I knew it would not be long till my insides would rise and sink with the plane. I desperately sought for distractions and found it too, as I walked towards the boarding gate where I spotted a bunch of young travellers, who looked as if they were from China (at least, I hoped they would be). The bunch were desperately trying to decipher a Hindi signboard stating prasthan (departure). To earn travel karma, I helped them out. My small gesture led to me to befriend the travellers (indeed from China!). Soon we were talking of the Indian languages—my new-found friends expressed their exasperation and admiration on the number of languages we had. One thing led to another; before we knew it, the conversation had veered towards the Indian Railways (stranger things have happened). Not to be outdone, my friends gave in their two-bits about the China Railways. As our conversation continued on board, soon, I actually had a plan; one which freed me from the confines of my father’s office. With my friends’ advice, and browsing through a copy of China Travel Guide which my father always carried with him, I knew that I would travel on the China Railway and do my own version of a cross-country tour starting from Canton or Kwangchow—a city dotted with skyscrapers. It is easy to confuse the energy of Canton with the other thriving metropolises of the world; say a New York. But, like most cities in China, Canton, too, manages to keep its “China soul” alive within its mostly westernised districts. I got off at the Tianhenan Metro Station and bought a ticket for Guangzhou Opera House Station where I was to start my journey. The station was dotted with food kiosks and I stopped right in front of good-old McDonalds—I admit that was pretty desi of me. I had just helped myself to some fries and cola when a voice announced that my train was to depart in the next 30 seconds. My journey had started! Before we start; facts about the Chinese metro lines; the Zhujiang New Town Automated People Mover System Metro Line was installed two years ago. It is the most expensive one within the network. I boarded my eight-coach, Bombardier-made (yup, like our very own Delhi Metro) train at the Tiahenan Station. My air-conditoned, exceedingly plush coach was deserted, giving me the opportunity to sit in all its seats as the train flitted forward with an incredible speed. Soon, a voice announced my arrival at the Guangzhou Opera House Metro Station. The opera house, right in front of the station, shimmering in the morning light, was rather grand. Designed by Zaha Hadid and Sir Harold Marshall, it is regarded as the most high-tech and bestfacilitated comprehensive performing arts centre in southern China. It has a multiplex of modern amenities— and more importantly, amazing food. Though I did not get a chance to watch a show or sample the fare, the building enchanted me. But, I was not there to satiate my architectural appetite. I had other err... other frogs to fry! No literally! On board I had heard my friends rant about the Cantonese delicacy of frog legs; steamed or fried. I am an “every-vore” (yes, I coined the term) and I left the opera house on the reverse rail heading to Shipai Village via Tianhenan to the flourishing commercial centre, where the best frog legs were apparently available. The Shipai Village is like a food park meets a flea market. If you like eating, browsing or shopping, you could spend hours there. But I was too hungry to browse. So my first stop was a Cantonese food kiosk. Without even looking at the menu I ordered steamed frog legs on lotus leaf with a bottle of cola (just in case the first time experiment proved to be unpalatable). When my steaming plate arrived 10 minutes later, I sat admiring it. Though the first bite was hard, the meat was melt-in-mouth, and the taste was reminiscent of my granny’s mutton dish—a sumptuous and enjoyable meal. The just-in-case cola stood there untouched, till the very end of the meal, when I sipped on it while staring at the Chinese artefacts. There were the usual deal; cast iron, stone or Plaster of Paris statues of Lord Buddha, and Ying Yang charms. One of them caught my attention enough to make me part with 27 RMB. The shop lady assured me that the ones selling here were all “real” unlike the other bazaars (especially Wuangzhou) and for the sake of the money, I chose to believe her. I sauntered through the market stopping to drink the refreshing herbal tea and nibbling at plum pork chips. Bliss! My final destination was the Pearl Tower (pater to the rescue). The view from the top of the Tower was breathtaking. My day ended at the Guangzhou Science City; a township full of towering concrete mountains with corporate logos and digital fairy lights. Day Two: Shenzhen. The Guangdong ‘through’ train connects Guangzhou to Honk Kong via Shenzhen. The early morning first through-train took less than two hours to reach Shenzhen. Before I left, my father warned me that Shenzhen was nothing but a large electronic market. I did not really care; I longed to buy a new iPhone and headed straight for Shenzen Electronic Complex—a small city in its own rights. Crowded with electronic dealers, it had everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything, even a digital bottle opener and an instant dough-maker which I bought for my mother. Shenzhen’s e-marts were reminiscent of Chandni Chowk, with salesmen yapping away and making brisk sales in rapid Mandarin. When I finally bought my iPhone, I kept asking whether it was indeed “real” to which there were tremendous amount of eye rolling (I am Indian after all). At the electronic mart, I met Kim (her Chinese name was too complicated and she liked being called Kim). Kim became my impromptu guide and took me to a new part of Honk Kong, integrated with Shenzhen, which had its own little cultural space—the China Folk Cultural Village. The village was a like a fairground of some 56 ethnic groups in China. It showcased the traditions, art forms, and artefacts of the groups in small kiosks. Finally, my father was there to pick me up; and the two of us bid goodbye to Kim as we boarded the Guangzhou- Shenzhen-Hong Kong High-Speed Train to the Hong Kong International Airport, which was to be our final destination. A snippet here; as I was browsing books in one of the many stores in the airport, a sign slashed above it. As I struggled to make sense of the Mandarin, a Chinese girl helped me out. She said that the board read “farewell”. And I did so with a heavy heart.
Chef Jerome Cousin of Rara Avis informs me that the two words—rara avis—mean a ‘rare bird’ in French. When someone calls you a rare bird, do frown just a bit. S/he is perhaps politely stating that you are a little off, up there—an eccentric or a nutter. Which is all OK—successful people are a bit mad anyway. Chef Cousin, with all due respect, is not different either. How else do you define a man who abandoned the divine climes of the Franco-Swiss border, and a thriving restaurant, to be in New Delhi? I sit before Chef Cousin, sweating profusely thanks to the charming weather nowadays, as he sits cool as a cucumber with his bad-boy tattoos, floral shirt, smart ear studs and very-hipster pink pants. He wears a strangely bemused expression, as if my dripping sweat is an oddity. I know just then that he is indeed a bit mad—or his love for India is beyond rationality—an accusation he accepts with grace. “That’s why this restaurant is named so. It is a homage to all those mad people who are a bit odd, and for those who love food.” Unlike the other chefs featured in this section, Cousin is not an accidental cook. He was born in a kitchen—he lets me know—and started to cook when he was about five, demanding pots and pans of his own. “I would make small portions of soup or try to roast a small piece of meat or vegetable, some pasta, and force my grandfather—George—to eat it. He was a famous Chef and an indulgent grandfather to have tolerated a child in a professional kitchen. He was most patient. He taught me how to cook.” As did Cousin’s father, Calude. Thus, thanks to an indulgent father and grandfather, a third-generation chef was born. Between the three brothers, Chef Jerome Cousin is the only one to have entered the kitchen. His brothers chose the more administrative and managerial positions in the three restaurants that the Cousin family owns in France. But Cousin wanted it all; to cook, run a restaurant and engage with the clients, which he loves. It was his grandfather who instilled a love for fresh ingredients and traditional cooking methods (slow cooking of meats) within him. And he taught Jerome that if it is not fresh enough, it is not worth putting on a plate. “People (hoteliers, chefs) say that oh, we charge extra because my ingredients are sourced from abroad. I see that as a unnecessary move. It is not something I like doing, sourcing ingredients from abroad and then making your customers pay a bomb for them. And the ingredients are never fresh when you source them from abroad.” Vegetables that come out of Chef Cousin’s kitchen uses locally sourced, as are the fish and meat. It is only the odd French cheese or herbs that come from France. “Some say you can’t find good meat in this country. I think it is rubbish! I recently added lamb to the menu when I found a small organic meat farm. Yes, I had to travel to get the best, but it was all worth it,” says Chef Cousin. His speciality lies in keeping food wholesome and delicious. So, he sticks to artisanal dishes of rural and provincial France. There are other—exotic and signature—French dishes on the menu at Rara Avis—say an odd dish with snails. Which brings me to wonder how does an average Indian react to snails? Chef Cousin gently chides me for underestimating my country people, who, I am told, are experimenting more with food. Sure there are some rare birds (not the good, eccentric kind mind you) who insist upon smothering a dish with ketchup and mayo. But those ‘Philistines’ can be ‘taught’ better, he assures us (did we say that the chef has tattoos? Lots of them? And that can be persuasive). For a man who adores traditional, artisanal French cuisine, he is also equally fond of the fierce curries from the south of India and the Northeast. Some 11 years ago, when he arrived here, it was partly Indian food which made him realise he had arrived at a special place—almost a second home. So, Chef Cousin stayed back. A string of restaurant consultancy jobs later, he started his own small bistro-bar in the capital. There, he met Laurent Guiraud—the second member of the trio which includes entrepreneur Rajiv Aneja. Guiraud became a regular at the bistro and introduced Aneja to the team. I am told that several bottles of wine were consumed while planning and plotting an authentic, unique French cuisine for Delhi people. Finally, the dream came true in 2012 and soon Rara Avis was celebrating its first year anniversary— with the launch of an off-shoot in Goa. What’s next on the menu you ask? Well, world domination would be appropriate, but for now India will have to do.
THE HEAT, as they say, is on, especially in the capital. The resentment building up against the government, and police, is once again leading to bitter protests in the capital, yet again. Incidents—more rapes—are leading to dissent across the state. The governance, and its mouthpieces, are coming out with a new set of excuses to fill the gap between expectations and reality, amid protests. Dismissing every civilian protest against the governance as ‘routine’ will only remove politicians from their support base—further of. Why is it that the Indian political class is so far removed from the reality that its citizens face everyday? Not only in civilian matters—but also when it comes to setting economic expectations. India’s economy grew by 5.3 per cent from a year earlier in the July to September quarter, the slowest pace of expansion in three years. Yet, the Budget 2013 harped on a growth rate of 10 per cent in coming years. Meanwhile, foreign investors have also been wary of entering the country amid a delay in key reforms. That has led to concerns that India’s growth rate may slow further in the coming months. These were some questions that we posed before Dr Bimal Jalan, the former Governor of India’s national bank (Reserve Bank of India). True, Dr Jalan is no political commentator, and neither does he make any claims to be. In fact the former Governor is a gentleman who would credit circumstances and not merit for the pinnacle that he has reached today. However, we coaxed the economist to make several observations about his country–one that he says has one of the most robust democracies in the world. So what goes wrong? Is it the lacuna between policy and implementation? Is it a gap between expectation and reality? There were no clear answers, but Dr Jalan did make some interesting comments on the economic needs of the hour. Read his views on Page XX. On a merrier note, Marryam H. Reshii will be taking us on an Indian tour for this month. After several international destinations, she felt that it was the right time to go desi on her readers and in this month when several regions of the country celebrate their New Year, it seems to be a perfect fit. Shubho nababorsho and happy Vishu to all of you. May your new year be blessed.
PROTESTS\\ India’s capital continued to struggle with the label of being called the “rape capital” of the nation in May 2013 when two more prominent cases were brought to the forefront. One of them, the torture of a five-year-old, shook the nation. A five-year-old was abducted on April 15, 2013, and kept hostage without food and water in her attacker’s room. The 25-year-old accused, Manoj Kumar, was later arrested and upon interrogation Kumar revealed that one of his friend had also raped the toddler. Police arrested the second accused from Bihar. The victim, currently under treatment at AIIMS, is believed to have recovered from her injuries. D.K. Sharma, the hospital medical superintendent, was quoted as saying, “She slept well on Saturday night, and is alert, conscious and speaking to her parents. Her vital parameters are stable, and the colostomy tube is functioning well. At this stage, as such there is no danger to her life.” With the news of the rape, there were also reports of police callousness—as some officers refused to take FIR against the accused. This news further aggravated public rage. Soon, there were protests against the rape in the national capital which led to three Metro stations in central Delhi being closed.
CONTEST// The Aam Aadmi Party on April 15, 2013, declared that its party president Arvind Kejriwal will contest the Delhi Assembly polls. The party, however, refrained from declaring the constituency from which he will fight the poll. “Kejriwal will fight the elections but we can-not say at the moment which constituency is he planning to run from. There is a huge demand for him to fight the Delhi elections,” AAP chief spokesperson Manish Sisodia said. Sisodia declared the party's procedure for candidate selection at a press meet. Starting April 15, interested candidates can download application forms from the AAP website or pick them from AAP's office. The candidate filing the form needs to have at least 100 supporters from the constituency. A list seeking their names and contact numbers must be attached to the form.
QUAKE// Then on April 16, 2013, a major earthquake centred on a border area of southeast Iran killed at least 13 people in neighbouring Pakistan, destroyed hundreds of houses and shook buildings as far away as India and Gulf Arab states. Communications with the area, a sparsely populated desert and mountain region, were largely cut, leading to conflicting preliminary reports of casualties in Iran. An Iranian provincial governor later said there were no deaths there. The epicentre was far from any of Iran’s nuclear facilities. It was the second big quake to hit Iran in a week. On April 9, a powerful 6.3 magnitude quake struck close to Iran's only nuclear power station, killing 37 people, injuring 850 and devastating two villages. Most of Iran’s nuclear-related facilities are located in central Iran or its west, including the Bushehr nuclear power plant on the Gulf coast. “It is far from Bushehr and other nuclear-related facilities,” Iran expert Ali Vaez of the International Crisis Group think-tank told Reuters. “However, the recent tremors are ominous reminders of how earthquake prone Iran’s terrain truly is and how critical it is for the Iranian government to be prepared for a nuclear emergency,” Vaez said.