Rikin Gandhi is teaching the farmers of the country the keys to a better produce

As part of the Mahindra Rise Project, set out to pick 20 innovators from different fields, the July issue of Tehelka featured Rikin Gandhi, a 30-yearold. The article contains a shot of the geeky, Indian lad, who looks in his teens, while the article begins with a profound thought: “Oddly enough for someone who seems so committed to his task, land held little interest... it was the skies and astronomy that captivated him.” Despite what the writer wished to convey, land and air often hold different meanings to interpreters. If to someone land represents belonging, air is often where you don’t belong; similarly, air might signify the height of joy, land in that context could mean losing a grip. It could be interesting to note which school of thought Gandhi subscribes to. A postgraduate in aeronautics and astronautics from the MIT (US), and a licensed pilot, Gandhi decided to give up the lofty heights and focused on earth instead. Perhaps, for him, land symbolises stability, as he mentions in an interview, “I have been reading autobiographies of astronauts who see the earth from above with new perspective. They become philosophical; think about the futility of wars and human greed. Many become farmers, teachers and go all the way to reconnect...” Chance brought Gandhi to India, for a Maharashtra biodiesel project. After failing that, he got involved with a Microsoft Research Project in Bengaluru. It was around 2007, and the project looked at emerging markets and scope of technology in smallscale farming systems. A computer science graduate, Gandhi says, “For six months, we were going around exploring possibilities, visiting farmers. We began a partnership with an NGO situated on the outskirts of Bengaluru, Green Foundation, focusing on sustainable agricultural process and biodiversity. Like most NGOs, they were, too, bound by human capacity, finances and were interested to see if technology could add efficiency.” The idea was to start conversations with villagers and educate them about new techniques. Instead of the usual man-to-man demonstrations, the group thought that videos would help. “Initially, we had 20 TV sets, one each for a village, an investment of $20,” Gandhi remembers. The videos were then screened by the research group, in the evenings in schools, panchayat buildings and residences. The idea was not revolutionary nor were the results. “Krishi Darshan had been doing similar stuff for decades and only 10 to 15 per cent of our viewers implemented the techniques,” recalls Gandhi. There was a need to innovate on the existing idea. They experimented by making the process more inclusive. “We realised that localisation was important. People were getting information from different sources, but they did not know who to trust. From there came the idea of democratising the process,” says Gandhi, “So, we pondered over the question of who should produce the videos—shouldn’t it be the locals?” The group began training members of the partner NGOs and village communities. It worked wonderfully, shooting the 10 to 15 per cent data upto 70 to 75 per cent. The high-frequency screening of videos— once in every two weeks with a mediator available to answer questions—turned out to be affective. “The people who were being featured knew they would become role models for communities, and the people who watched it could identify with the faces.” After the initial success, Gandhi pondered over the viability to implement the project over a larger area. Thus, Digital Green came into being. Funded by the Gates and Forbes Foundations and the Centre, Digital Green works on the same idea, albeit with innovations. Within a short span, it has touched 2,000 villages in seven states and 150,000 farmers. The aim is to further this reach, and by 2015, as part of a collaboration with the National Rural Livelihood Mission (NRLM), Digital Green plans to expand to 10,000 villages. Of course, there were initial hiccups. In Jharkhand there were villages surviving without power supply, so from rented TV sets they had to shift to pico projectors. The works of the Digital Green are open to all, easily available on Youtube. Perhaps their most innovative endeavour—the idea of a social network for farmers, Farmbook, their version of Facebook. Farmbook lists complete details of actual farmers registered with them. Then, there is Wondervillage, on the lines of Farmville, the notoriously popular, game. Wondervillage has been worked upon in such a way that it has not only adopted but meliorated the concept of its precursor, changing the virtual world of crops and colonies into a palpably real experience. “You are faced with problems of rural development, that’s where village gurus (actual farmers and members of Farmbook) come to your rescue.” Similar to those astronauts, in whose journals he sought inspiration, Gandhi wishes to continue his voyage by using the same platform and deal with institution building, health and nutrition next. On cards is a plan to tie-up with Vodafone which would enable audio distribution of programme through the mobile network. Truly digital, and green.

Former Finance Minister and BJP politician Yashwant Sinha talks of his journey into the world of administrative services, politics, inspiration and his mentor

Here is a small story. It starts in a place called Kadamkuan in Patna in the 1940s. For those who are from the eastern part of India, they may be familiar with the place. For those unaware, Kadamkuan remains in the living memory because it was home to Jayaprakash Narayan. Jayaprakash Narayan, JP, Jayaprakash or Loknayak—one of the most prominent freedom fighters and social activists—was known by many names. He was to lead a movement in the early 1970s against the Centre’s regime. However, this is not the story of JP. It is of a young lad, also from Kadamkuan, and who was to hold JP in the highest esteem so much so to pave a path according to the elder man’s ideals. The young lad was so enchanted by the movement and the man at its helm that he would, years later, change his career path as a tribute to him. But we get ahead of ourselves. Revert to the Kadamkuan of the 1940s. The area was home to several eminent people who had made their houses with sprawling compounds in the “New Area”, built after the 1934 Bihar Earthquake—one of the worst recorded earthquakes in this country’s history. In New Area, there also lived a large family of seven brothers and four sisters and their parents in a large rented house. The protagonist of our story is the seventh brother and the ninth child of this family. The boy, as it would be clear later, was a late bloomer. Being one of the youngest, he was left to his devices for a long period of time. Till he was seven, no one in the family really worried enough about him to send him to school. His elder siblings home schooled him and he learnt the letters, alphabets and basic arithmetic thanks to his brothers. Probably, when he became too inquisitive or noisy, he is not too sure which of his attributes was to blame, one of his much-elder brothers caught hold of him and took him to the nearest school in the neighbourhood—a walk from his home. Thus, till seven, life was immersed in the blur of colours; colours of bright kites and glass marbles. These were the games he would cherish playing with his neighbourhood gang in those sprawling compounds and fields of Kadamkuan. Then, there was a game called “chance”. A mix between “catch me if you can” or “lock-and-key”, he was the master of this game, being quick on his feet. Up the walls and over the fields he would tear through, spending his hours. But, it was flying kites which he was obsessed with. So obsessed in fact that one of his recurrent childhood dreams was of him and his friends running after one particularly large bright kite. Confident of his abilities, and an eternal optimist, the lad would manage to catch the string right at the end, beating the rest; all the time. The idyllic childhood games were paused when he was led to Sir Ganesh Dutta Patliputra High English School. The name of the particular institution was longer and grander than its premises. Housed in a disputed building, there was a legal war being waged between the school authorities and the land-lord, who also happened to be the neighbourhood lawyer. One day the legal battle ended, and the boy and his friends hurried to their classes to discover (to their unbridled joy) that desks had being thrown while text books lay strewn on the ground like flotsam. With alacrity students went back to their homes to declare their independence from studies to alarmed parents. That holiday continued for fourth months, after which the school was re-started and re-established on a new premise, a little further ahead, and the kite, marble and chance games were put away for a bit longer. In that school, our protagonist continued his studies. Academics was yet to become a priority (such a contrast to his later life). His elder brothers had taken care of that legacy or burden; call it what you will. Most of them were intuitively good in their studies. There were few regrets or complaints in that family, barring one. None of the excellent academically brilliant brothers had managed to crack the Union Public Service Commission blur of colours; colours of bright kites and glass marbles. These were the games he would cherish playing with his neighbourhood gang in those sprawling compounds and fields of Kadamkuan. Then, there was a game called “chance”. A mix between “catch me if you can” or “lock-and-key”, he was the master of this game, being quick on his feet. Up the walls and over the fields he would tear through, spending his hours. But, it was flying kites which he was obsessed with. So obsessed in fact that one of his recurrent childhood dreams was of him and his friends running after one particularly large bright kite. Confident of his abilities, and an eternal optimist, the lad would manage to catch the string right at the end, beating the rest; all the time. The idyllic childhood games were paused when he was led to Sir Ganesh Dutta Patliputra High English School. The name of the particular institution was longer and grander than its premises. Housed in a disputed building, there was a legal war being waged between the school authorities and the land-lord, who also happened to be the neighbourhood lawyer. One day the legal battle ended, and the boy and his friends hurried to their classes to discover (to their unbridled joy) that desks had being thrown while text books lay strewn on the ground like flotsam. With alacrity students went back to their homes to declare their independence from studies to alarmed parents. That holiday continued for fourth months, after which the school was re-started and re-established on a new premise, a little further ahead, and the kite, marble and chance games were put away for a bit longer. In that school, our protagonist continued his studies. Academics was yet to become a priority (such a contrast to his later life). His elder brothers had taken care of that legacy or burden; call it what you will. Most of them were intuitively good in their studies. There were few regrets or complaints in that family, barring one. None of the excellent academically brilliant brothers had managed to crack the Union Public Service Commission.

THE PATLIPUTRA BAGGAGE

There are few people who can narrate a story well. There are even fewer still, who can do it quickly. Former Finance Minister Yashwant Sinha is one of the few who blessed with a sharp memory, solid hold over words, and more importantly, a deliciously self-deprecating, yet confident, sense of humour, which makes him an excellent narrator. He not only tells a story crisply and lucidly, but also, takes his audience into its very fabric. Thus, when he speaks of his seven-year-old self—dreaming of a kite and running after it—you are with him. You can sense his hope and determination. A bureaucrat-turned-politician, Yashwant Sinha is considered by many as one of the Finance Ministers who transformed the Indian economy. He has been held in high-esteem by his friends, and more importantly, by his foes, as a man of character. His life has been impressive—early on he tasted success as a bureaucrat. Then Sinha took a U-turn to enter Indian politics with a ticket from Janata Dal. He served as a spokesperson for Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), served stints as the Foreign and Finance Ministers in the Atal Bihari Vajpayee government. However, Sinha is perhaps best remembered as an administrative officer who held important posts for 24 years upholding Indian concerns in international conferences and in social and political delegations. At the end of the day, the man who sits across me in his political uniform of a crisp kurta-pyjama and a Nehru jacket, is ready with a smile. Being the storyteller, he does not make his life seem less or more than what it was, or is. He swings between being self-deprecating and confident. Sometimes, with a hearty laugh or with a smile that his seven-year-old self might have flashed, he admits to being quite an arrogant person. From his stories, however, the BJP member emerges as an intuitive person—in control of his destiny. As he shares his life story, the root cause of his confidence emerges. As a student hailing from a Hindi-medium, neighbourhood school, Sinha struggled to gain the confidence of his new teachers in the reputed Patna Collegiate School. And the label of being a “Hindi-medium student” was one that he carried into his college and Master’s days. Sinha recalls one particular teacher who seemed to take pleasure in pointing out his mistakes. He took to referring Sinha as the “Patliputra Boy”. In those days of strict attendance and roll calls, students quite an arrogant person. From his stories, however, the BJP member emerges as an intuitive person—in control of his destiny. As he shares his life story, the root cause of his confidence emerges. As a student hailing from a Hindi-medium, neighbourhood school, Sinha struggled to gain the confidence of his new teachers in the reputed Patna Collegiate School. And the label of being a “Hindi-medium student” was one that he carried into his college and Master’s days. Sinha recalls one particular teacher who seemed to take pleasure in pointing out his mistakes. He took to referring Sinha as the “Patliputra Boy”. In those days of strict attendance and roll calls, students (Master’s), a fierce debater, the young man was preparing himself unknowingly for a life under the public glare. The pressure he put himself through, was not for a career. He wanted to be a man of several parts, and shed the Patliputra label. This was like his dream again—chasing a goal, only this time, his rivals were not his neighbourhood boys but young men who came from English-medium schools. “Everyone in the college was a friend. I have some of these old friends in my life still. However, there are a core group of three of us who came from Hindi-medium background. One day we decided that we would speak to each other in English and English only. Determined, we dispersed for the day. Next day onwards, we started to avoid each other like plague. If we spotted anyone, we would try to look the other way. For a while, we judiciously continued to avoid each other, till I decided that we couldn’t carry on. My friends and I decided we would converse in English, but occasionally,” he said breaking into a booming laugh.

THE PUNJAB MAIL

“In college, I decided to break my Hindi-medium mold and joined the debate team. The best orator among us was a young man who came from Doon School. There was no way I could beat his skills. Instead, I decided to be the second-best. I joined his team for an Intermediate Debate, a pretty prestigious event, held between top colleges in Patna, namely the Patna Women’s College, Magadh College and some more. I doggedly prepared a five-minute speech. And then rote learnt it while pacing the banks of the Ganga. I went and delivered it without pausing. Friends later informed me that I had earned a nickname—Punjab Mail—one of the few fast trains travelling from Patna in those days for my non-stop rant. Though, I was forewarned, I continued in the same breathless fashion in the main debate. Thankfully, my partner, (Doon student) was an excellent orator. Together we bagged the team cup. I realised that I loved debating.” Due to his relentless pursuing of all debate competitions, he soon became one of the busiest and best debaters of his college. The incident sheds light on yet another impressive attribute laudable in Sinha. Faced with any impediment, he has always managed to see it as a challenge, and turned it around to his advantage. And through it all, he often manifested the energy and rigour of a seven year old pursuing his kite. In college he took up multiple activities; theatre being one. He played Lord Hastings in Richard the Third (“His remains were discovered recently, I hope you have heard”, he informs me). He also played Sergius in Arms and the Man. He was one of the active members of the National Cadet Corps from his school days. His participation also earned him a seat at Indian Military Academy in Dehradun. “I took part in the Republic Day parade, I was an NCC cadre. I was on stage acting and debating. If there is a single regret that I have, is rejecting the military academy offer. I was and remain fascinated by the military uniform. I have a tremendous respect for the men and women who go to war for our well-being. I have to make do by reading fiction based around wars,” he says. Even if the Army uniform was not for him, another uniform was waiting. That of a civil servant. He was almost ready for his role having chosen the “right subject” and the “right attitude”. Sinha interjects and states he just had an attitude. Though he was one of the top scorers in the civil entrance tests, he scored poorly in the Viva Voce (140 out of 400) something he suspects was due to one of his answers. “A high-ranking IPS officer was present in my interview panel. He saw my NCC record and asked me why had I placed IPS so low on my list of priorities. I said, just because I had excelled in the NCC, it did not necessarily mean that I should be condemned to a life of a policeman,” he says, laughing. Even if his answer was not smart, his scores were—enough for him to get through the Bihar Cadre of the IAS. Punjab Mail was right on track.

“I COULD BE A MINISTER, BUT YOU CANNOT BE AN IAS OFFICER”

First the district training course in Arrah, then as a sub-divisional officer at Giridih and then finally becoming the Deputy Commissioner of the Santhal Paraganas, Sinha rose through the ranks quickly. His stint was marked by difficulties—one of them being the 1967 Bihar Famine. Though the situation was tragic, it brought him a step closer to his childhood hero–Jayaprakash Narayan. “I had grown up hearing stories of the man being tied to a slab of ice, being tortured and yet never giving in. I had grown to idiolise him. During the Bihar Famine, JP was leading the Bihar Relief Committee. In order to help him out, I organised an entertainment programme. We managed to gather a sum of `1 lakh, which I presented to the committee. He acknowledged our effort by agreeing to meet me. Two days before the scheduled meeting, the then CM of Bihar (who shall be unnamed) and his CPI friend visited my office. In those days, government ministers manifested their superiority by behaving badly with bureaucrats. I had heard so many horror tales that I was pretty nervous about the meeting. It turned out to be as bad as I expected. We had a tiff,” he remembers. At the end of the argument, Sinha uttered his “famous last words”—“I could be a minister if I wanted to be, but you cannot be an IAS officer even if you wanted”. “I was nearly suspended. However, the worst bit was that I never got to meet JP,” he recalls. That meeting with JP was to be further postponed, as Sinha would do rounds of top official posts in both Indian and foreign shores before landing up in India in 1974. His stint at the Ministry of Commerce took him all over the world. I was tempted to ask, for a man who battled with the English language for so long, how was it to actually land on shores were it was spoken? “I felt that it was long overdue, my visit to those places,” he says with a laugh. There is a flash of his confidence again. We would have labelled it arrogance, had his journey been easy. However, it was well-earned one. Confidence is key to his being—it is not a matter of how one perceives himself, but how others perceives a confident being. Say, even a nation. “I was in Germany when the Pokhran Tests happened. Overnight, I noticed the world’s perception of us had changed. When India lend a helping hand to the emerging nation-state of Bangladesh, India’s stocks rose further globally. A nation, I believe deeply, has to be strong and confident in order to emerge.”

ALL EYES WERE on Finance Minister P. Chidambaram when he presented the Budget 2013-2014 on February 28, 2013. There have been issues which have been in the foreground in the past year, and the FM and his team had issues that they could take credit for—allowing FDI in retail and civil aviation, and decontrolling fuel prices—albeit these issues were not a part of Pranab Mukherjee’s Budget Agenda. This Budget session started on a stormy note, with the Hyderabad blasts and Home Minister’s remarks about Bharatiya Janata Party disrupting sessions. The month-long session began with a customary address by President Pranab Mukherjee to the joint sitting of the Lok Sabha and Rajya Sabha. We hoped that the sessions would prove to be productive over time—after all it carried a heavy legislative agenda, including getting Parliament nod three ordinances, introduction of as many as 16 bills, consideration and passage of 35 Bills. I know that the aam admi was waiting with bated breath for the budget. Being one of the crowd, I hoped that the February Budget would bring some good news for us, the women. Come on Mister Finance Minister, we deserved it—it is after all our month in March when the world celebrates Women’s Day on March 8th. We are the people who buy goods being sold, who hold on tight to the purse strings. It was purely a matter of chance, that the man on our cover in this month, is one of the former Finance Ministers of India, Shree Yashwant Sinha. He is one of the most high-profile FMs that India can boast of, greatly admired and equally criticised. We spoke less about business and more about matters of the heart. The man of substance left us truly impressed. Read about him on Page 12. Keeping with the matters of business and budget, we have interviewed the father-son duo Rakesh and Rohan Verma of MaymyIndia. We have added a twist to our Looking Back section this month and made our master entrepreneurs look back at the initial days of business. Do let us know what you think about it. Since we are all about celebrating women this month, it gives us great pleasure to introduce a new writer—Marryam Reshii is one of the most familiar names in the gastronomical and travel writing in India, and has been for the past 20 years. She has written for a slew of prestigious Indian and international magazines. As I said, surprise! She will be one of the travel columnists for Hitchhiker’s from this month. I hope that you have a good month, and for the men, celebrate the women that you have in your life. They deserve it!

Slain LTTE Chief’s Son Allegedly Murdered

ALLEGATION \\ A series of photographs showing Balachandran Prabhakaran, son of Villupillai Prabhakaran, head of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), shot and dead were revealed recently leading to allegations that the boy’s death may have been slaughter. The allegations were brought to the fore by Channel 4, one of the leading UK media channels. One of the photos shows the boy sitting in a bunker, alive and unharmed, apparently in the custody of Sri Lankan troops. Another picture which was taken a few hours later shows the boy’s body lying on the ground, his chest pierced by bullets. The images, contained in a new documentary, No Fire Zone, are slated to be screened at the Geneva Human Rights Film Festival during the UN Human Rights Council meeting in March 2013, suggest that the boy of 11 years was captured alive and killed at a later stage.

BLASTS\\ Twin bomb blasts rocked Hyderabad on February 21, 2013, killing at least 16 people and injuring over 100 others. In the first terror strike in the city since 2007, the blasts triggered by Improvised Explosive Devices (IED) tied to two bicycles took place in Dilsukhnagar area, south of Musi (river) in the southern part of the Andhra Pradesh capital and about 15km from the heart of the city, when the busy commercial area was crowded with people returning home. The first blast took place around 7pm near a tiffin centre opposite Venkatadri theatre and the second near Konark theatre. Reports state over a kilogram of explosive was used in each bomb. A specific alert warning attack by Pakistan-based terrorist group was allegedly shared by central security agencies with Hyderabad police on Thursday morning, officials said.

400 People Injured in the ‘Fireball Shower’

METEORITE \\ Around 400 people were injured when a meteorite shot across the sky in central Russia in mid-February sending fireballs crashing to Earth, smashing windows and setting off car alarms. Residents on their way to work in Chelyabinsk heard what sounded like an explosion, saw a bright light and then felt a shockwave, according to a Reuters correspondent in the industrial city 1,500km (950m) east of Moscow. The meteorite raced across the horizon, leaving a long white trail in its wake which could be seen as far as 200km (125m) away in Yekaterinburg. Mobile phones worked only intermittently. Chelyabinsk city authorities said about 400 people sought medical help, mainly for light injuries caused by flying glass. “I was driving to work, it was quite dark, but it suddenly became as bright,” said Viktor Prokofiev, 36, a resident of Yekaterinburg in the Urals Mountains. “I felt like I was blinded by headlights,” he said. No fatalities were reported but President Vladimir Putin, who was due to host Finance Ministry officials from the Group of 20 nations in Moscow, and Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev were informed immediately regarding the incident. A ministry official said the meteor shower may have been connected with an asteroid, the size of an Olympic swimming pool, that was due to pass Earth at a distance of 27,520km (17,100m), but this could not be confirmed. A loud noise, resembling an explosion, rang out at around 9.20am. The shockwave could be felt in apartment buildings in the industrial city’s centre. “I was standing at a bus stop, seeing off my girlfriend,” said Andrei, a resident. “Then there was a flash and I saw a trail of smoke across the sky and felt a shockwave that smashed windows.” A wall was damaged no environmental threat, a plant spokeswoman said. Such incidents are rare. A meteorite is thought to have devastated an area of more than 2,000sqkm (1,250m) in Siberia in 1908, smashing windows as far as 200km (125m) from the point of impact. The Emergencies Ministry described the events as a “meteor shower in the form of fireballs” and said background radiation levels were normal. It urged residents not to panic. Chelyabinsk city authorities urged people to stay indoors unless they needed to pick up their children from schools and kindergartens. They said a blast had been heard at an altitude of 10,000metres (32,800ft), apparently signalling it occurred when the meteorite entered Earth’s atmosphere. The US space agency NASA has said an asteroid known as 2012 DA14, about 46metres in diameter, would have an encounter with Earth closer than any asteroid since scientists began routinely monitoring them about 15 years ago. Television, weather and communications satellites fly about 500m (800km) higher. The moon is 14 times farther away.

CRICKET\\ In this edition of the ICC Women’s Cricket World, the Indian team got eliminated as early as the group stages for the first time in eight editions. The team lost to Sri Lanka. Runs overflowed from the opponents’ bats, while the Indian side saw some wayward bowling. When it came to scoring, Indian batswomen functioned at snail’s pace and failed to fire. Barring Thirush Kamini’s hundred in the first game and Harmanpreet Kaur’s knock against England, only Karuna Jain and Poonam Raut managed half-centuries. Reema Malhotra (38) was the highest scorer for India against Sri Lanka. That was the turning point,” said Diana Edulji, former Test cricketer. The tournament which was spread over 18 days in which 24 matches produced outstanding individual and team performances, with Australia crowned champions, and New Zealand captain Suzie Bates named Player of the Tournament.

AK Antony denies resignation rumours

SCAM\\ The Choppergate controversy began after Italian agencies arrested Finmeccanica CEO Giuseppe Orsi for suspected corruption to seal a deal made with Indian officials. A CBI team and defence ministry officials left for Italy to get more information on the alleged kickbacks in the $750 million (`3,600 crore) chopper deal. Playing down reports that he has offered to resign over Choppergate, Defence Minister A.K. Antony said he will do his duty and be present in the Budget Session. Answering questions on whether there were “differences” between the government and the ministry over the scam, he ruled out the allegations. Antony added that the government was acting together in the matter and said that the Centre and his ministry had “nothing to hide”. He assured that “nobody will be spared” if any wrongdoing was found. On the other hand, Britain allegedly will help India in investigations into the alleged AgustaWestland chopper deal controversy, Manmohan Singh said.

Guru Labelled as ‘Martyr’ in the Valley

HUNG\\ Afzal Guru, 43, was hanged inside the Tihar Jail on the morning of February 9, 2013, for plotting an attack on Parliament on December 13, 2001. He was buried inside the jail complex in accordance with the jail manual. The death triggered protests across the Valley. Kashmiri separatists reserved a grave for the “burial” of the body of Afzal Guru at the expansive cemetery at Iddgah in downtown Srinagar, just as they have done for the body of Jammu and Kashmir Liberation Front leader, Maqbool Bhat. Tucked in a freshly-laid tombstone of cement concrete on Mazar-e-Shuhada, beside Bhat’s empty grave, a black granite epitaph in Afzal’s name was discovered by a group of youngsters. Its inscription in archaic Urdu read: “The martyr of the nation, Mohammad Afzal Guru, Date of Martyrdom: 9th February 2013 Saturday, whose mortal remains are lying in the custody of the Government of India. The nation is awaiting its return.” Bhat was executed in the same prison as Guru for the murder of a police officer and a bank manager on February 11, 1984. Both have been buried on the jail premises. Abdul Ahad, a grave digger, said that not less than 1,000 militants and civilians were buried at the Mazar-e-Shuhada in the past 22 years.

ARE INDIAN B-schools in a bubble, as some experts are claiming that American colleges are? Joseph Schumpeter, in a recent article in The Economist entitled The Latest Bubble? argues the American higher education bubble is already beginning to burst. He quotes PayPal cofounder, Peter Thiel, “Higher education fills all the criteria for a bubble: tuition costs are too high, debt loads are too onerous, and there is mounting evidence that the rewards are over-rated.” This claim is also applicable to Indian B-schools. With more than 3,000 such schools in the country, India has three times more B-schools than the US. This difference becomes stark when one considers that the size of the Indian economy is one-tenth of the US economy. The result is poor quality education and an oversupply of MBA graduates which, in turn, increase unemployability and underemployability among graduates. According to economists Karl Case and Robert Shiller, a bubble represents “A situation in which excessive public expectations for future price increases cause prices to be temporarily elevated”. In other words, a bubble simply represents an over-estimation of future expected returns. Based on this simple definition, we can clearly see that Indian B-schools are in a bubble. On the demand side—from students and families—expectations of social prestige and career advancement from an MBA degree are reaching a level of irrational exuberance. Similarly, on the supply side, promoters’ expectations of earning easy money are also blown out of proportion. One of the characteristics of a bubble is “herd behaviour”. This can be seen in the large number of students who continue to aspire to an MBA degree. MBAs are perceived to offer a safe and rewarding career path. This perception, and accompanying herd behaviour, are largely driven by the salary war (read: inflated salaries) among B-schools and corresponding media frenzy associated with corporate top pay packages. The social prestige associated with an MBA has also contributed to the demand for MBAs. One crude indicator is the matrimonial classifieds, where an MBA degree is often positioned as a measure of success and achievement. We can also see it when someone says that they have an MBA vs MEd—we are already judging that the person with an MBA is “better” than one with an MEd. These social stereotypes of MBAs as a measure of success have contributed to undue and irrational expectations for people to pursue them. On the supply side, given the appetite for MBA degrees, many entrepreneurs and politicians have seen an opportunity to make easy money. The barriers to entry to start a B-school are quite low, both in terms of financial and regulatory requirements. These barriers are even lower if one ignores the regulatory requirements. In addition, the emergence of new models—especially the one-year MBA and distance learning—have accelerated the supply of MBA programmes, many of which are not recognised by AICTE. The result is too many unrecognised, poor quality MBA programmes in the market. So, what is the way out? One of the ways out seems to be the foreign universities bill which is hanging fire. India must wake up to the need for internationalisation of higher education and put in place a policy framework to address concerns, if it wants to reap the benefits. The foreign universities bill has turned out to be like a car with square wheels. Though the bill is still awaiting approval of the Parliament, it has generated excitement among many institutions in India. There are questions about the bill’s effectiveness and relevance. Also, there are a few foreign institutions, like Lancaster University, which decided not to wait for the bill and have started their campuses in partnership with GD Goenka. This is an example of how a disjointed approach can render a policy irrelevant. It highlights the need for a comprehensive internationalisation policy on higher education which can maximise the relevance and benefits at three primary levels: infusing excellence, encouraging institutional diversity and building capacity. Jane Knight defined internationalisation as the “process of integrating an international, intercultural or global dimension into the purpose, functions or delivery of postsecondary education.” This definition clarifies that internationalisation is a much broader, more comprehensive and flexible concept. It recognises and encourages diverse approaches and accepts that there is no one prescriptive formula for all institutions. The context in India is different, and so, the concept of internationalisation should be adapted to the unique challenges and needs of the country. There is no denying that Indian higher education is struggling to infuse quality at the systemic level. Consider the recent case of the 100 per cent cut-off requirement by the Sri Ram College of Commerce, Delhi, for admission to undergraduate programme. Instances like these question the whole premise that Indian higher education is reforming and expanding access to college courses. In reality, the availability of quality institutions is unable to keep pace with demand. Indian institutions are facing a crisis of confidence where many students are aspiring for the same select institutions. A systematic approach to internationalisation may help bring in global good practices and more high-quality institutions. For example, in just a decade, ISB, Hyderabad, has emerged as an inspiration for many other Indian institutions. It is a hallmark of global practices adoption, covering admissions, teaching, research and governance. In a country where absolute scores are still considered the only benchmark for admissions, ISB adopted a holistic admissions process on the lines of the best B-schools by integrating personal interviews and essays. This expanded the choice for many talented students. Unfortunately, regulatory structures had tried to restrict the ISB model and its growth. India is slated to become a top ranking talent provider, globally by 2020, provided it brings about quantitative and qualitative changes in its vocational and doctoral studies curricula. As of now, they are poor cousins to the more lucrative course choices for India’s youth. The two extremes of post-secondary education, vocational and doctoral, are facing acute quantitative and qualitative challenges in attracting talent, delivering value and meeting society’s expectations. Vocational education is impaled on the quantitative front by the large gap between demand and supply. According to the Ministry of Labour and Employment, Government of India, while 12.8mn people are added to the labour force annually, vocational training is available to only a miniscule 4.3mn. On the qualitative scale lies the dismal skill development and training scenario. A report by the World Bank notes that over 60 per cent of graduates from the vocational stream in India remain unemployed even three years after graduation. If vocational training is in shambles, not much can be written about the postdoctoral education system either, struggling with the issues of quality and accessibility. According to the Ministry of Human Resources Development, Government of India, universities enrolled nearly 36,000 students in doctoral programmes in 2005-06—a small number for one of the largest education systems in the world enrolling more than 8.5mn students at the undergraduate level. Despite such a small number, concerns for quality have been growing. Challenges faced by vocational and doctoral education systems in India are complex and dynamic, wherein choices are driven by societal and labour market rewards. Competition for scarce resources and jobs is high. As a result, there is a marked preference for career paths with low risk and high employability. Five major changes proposed at societal, policy and institutional levels, will pave the way for better post-secondary education in India. The Indian post-secondary education system needs to recognise the value of institutional diversity. To quote noted higher education researcher Frans van Vught, member of the Group of Policy Advisors to the President of the European Commission, diversity among institutions is expected to “…better serve the needs of the labour market, offer more and better access to a larger student body and allow institutional specialisation by which the effectiveness of the overall higher education system increases.”