Six seconds. That’s the sort of time it takes for a luxury sedan to hit 100 kmph, or how long most recruiters look at the average resume before making a ‘fit or no-fit’ decision. Of late though, six seconds has assumed a whole new meaning in the social space courtesy Vine, a new app released by social networking titan Twitter. What Vine does is let people shoot and share six-second looped videos, turning the person on the street into a mini-movie-maker. Sounds like you’ve heard this pitch before? Sure, tonnes of apps have tried to bring mobile video sharing to the mainstream, but where Vine excels–its secret sauce, so to speak–is its simplicity. (Of course, having the backing of Twitter and a direct connection to its hundreds of million active users doesn’t hurt either!) At its core is the idea that sharing a video can be almost as simple as sending out a tweet, and just as Twitter’s 140-character limit forces people to write more efficiently, Vine’s six-second limit challenges you to use visuals that convey (and get to) your point faster. But besides that incredibly simple premise, it’s pretty easy to use as well. Touch the screen to record. Lift your finger to stop. Fill six seconds, write a caption and post immediately, either to Twitter, Facebook, or Vine’s own network. That’s it. Sounds simple enough, right? What’s more interesting is that compared to social video apps that have been around recently, Vine is as easily characterized by what’s not there. For example, there’s no way to edit your video, no Instagramlike filters, not even a playback button to review your video. The focus is frontand- center on the short stop-motion video you shoot. Heck, forget editing your video, you can't even upload a video from your phone’s media gallery, and the final Six seconds. That’s the sort of time it takes for a luxury sedan to hit 100 kmph, or how long most recruiters look at the average resume before making a ‘fit or no-fit’ decision. Of late though, six seconds has assumed a whole new meaning in the social space courtesy Vine, a new app released by social networking titan Twitter. What Vine does is let people shoot and share six-second looped videos, turning the person on the street into a mini-movie-maker. Sounds like you’ve heard this pitch before? Sure, tonnes of apps have tried to bring mobile video sharing to the mainstream, but where Vine excels–its secret sauce, so to speak–is its simplicity. (Of course, having the backing of Twitter and a direct connection to its hundreds of million active users doesn’t hurt either!) At its core is the idea that sharing a video can be almost as simple as sending out a tweet, and just as Twitter’s 140-character limit forces people to write more efficiently, Vine’s six-second limit challenges you to use visuals that convey (and get to) your point faster. But besides that incredibly simple premise, it’s pretty easy to use as well. Touch the screen to record. Lift your finger to stop. Fill six seconds, write a caption and post immediately, either to Twitter, Facebook, or Vine’s own network. That’s it. Sounds simple enough, right? What’s more interesting is that compared to social video apps that have been around recently, Vine is as easily characterized by what’s not there. For example, there’s no way to edit your video, no Instagramlike filters, not even a playback button to review your video. The focus is frontand- center on the short stop-motion video you shoot. Heck, forget editing your video, you can't even upload a video from your phone’s media gallery, and the final stitched together video is decidedly lowdefinition to boot! The videos even remind me of the animated GIF files people have been putting up on the Internet for well over a decade now! Yet, in less than a couple of weeks since Twitter launched the Vine app for the iPhone (an Android app is in the works), media houses have used it to report stories, brands have used it to create ads and contests and designers at New York Fashion Week have broadcasted real-time backstage clippings during the show. Celebs like Paul McCartney and Arnold Schwarzenegger are already on it, sharing snippets of their lives. Not to mention the bad press the app has gotten for initial glut of smut uploaded by users, leading Apple to slap it with a 17+ rating. You see, like everything else online, Vine users shared inappropriate videos on the network a.k.a porn. But that’s not the biggest of complaints I have with the service. Basic features, such as the ability to find people to follow, are broken. You can’t change the title or tags of the video once it is posted, or block people who post offensive comments. You can’t save or export content. You can’t use the front facing camera on your iPhone to record the Vine, only the rear camera. And oh yes, the service isn’t available on any other platform other than Apple’s, which cuts out a ton of folks who could be vine-ing today! If you get a feeling it’s a rushed service without all basic features of today’s social networks, that’s not entirely incorrect.
Not surprisingly, it’s easy to get hooked onto the service, watching streams of sometimes inane, sometimes remarkable videos that creative minds across the world are dishing out. But is there more o Vine than cute puppy, cat and baby videos? Is there a professional connection to the service, as businesses grapple with how they can best leverage their 6-seconds- of-fame on this new social network? Absolutely, if the past few weeks are anything to go by. Already, marketers and retailers are pushing out how-to videos of their latest products, showing off the product in action. Restaurateurs and coffee shops are pushing out recipes for the day, promoting their menus and giving their brands a video fillip. Tech startups and media houses are promoting company culture by offering Vines on behindthe- scenes-looks at their offices. So, how can you make Vine work for you? First, bear in mind that it is a new service, so pretty much everyone is learning their way around. Don’t let the hype machinery make your decisions–use the app only if you have a clear purpose of being on the network. Your business must have a clear reason to present videos to the world before your first Vine is posted. Think of Vine as a micro-storytelling app – clearly, you must know what story you are to tell for it to interest the audience and result in commerce. Remember to keep the content original–don’t “vine” clips of movies or material that is subject to copyright–showing other people’s copyrighted works, even for those six seconds, could result in legal action. Once you’re on the platform, plan for it much like any other medium–keep the content fresh, and keep it coming! And as always, keep an eye on what others from your industry are doing on the platform. Know what’s trending on Vine, pay attention and take notes and incorporate the really compelling ideas into your own Vine strategy.
WHILE WATCHING Daniel Day-Lewis’ riveting performance as Abraham Lincoln in Steven Spielberg’s biopic Lincoln, many viewers were struck by how effectively the film captures the complexity of debates surrounding the meanings of words like “freedom” and “equality,” terms that are the staple of political contestation in liberal democracies. National constitutions, which delineate the parameters for the functioning of political systems, use words and phrases with connotations and are subject to multiple interpretations and readings. Reflecting on all that must have transpired in those turbulent years of the American Civil War and it’s aftermath in which slavery was outlawed, one cannot but marvel at the complicated ways in which powerful ideas like “freedom,” “equality,” and “justice” acquired the connotations they did, and went on to shape the lives of countless Americans by redrawing the map of race relations. One also realises how distinctly American—in the sense of being a product of the very specific circumstances that shaped the American experience— the connotation of these ideas really was in the 1860s. This begs a question: If the American experience is described as a story about “liberty”, what were the foundational ideas that gave shape to India’s “Indian-ness”? At the level of ideas, is there any concept that has come to capture the story of the making of modern India? Of an India understood as an imagined community (to use Benedict Anderson’s evocative phrase) making sense of itself as it traversed the journey from colonial subjugation, to political independence, and one that now nurtures hopes of global ascendency? There are many answers to these questions, this is only to be expected. Ananya Vajpeyi, in a new book entitled Righteous Republic: The Political Foundations of Modern India, approaches this issue in a refreshing way. She constructs an analysis around a term that served as rallying cry in the days of Indian nationalism and continues to excite the Indian imagination, the idea of swaraj (self rule). This term, which can mean both “rule by the self” and “rule over the self”, has always lent itself to a variety of interpretations. Acknowledging that the issue of the raj in swaraj referred to the pursuit of political independence from colonial rule, and therefore the goal of political sovereignty, Vajpeyi chooses instead to focus on the swa (i.e., the “self”) part of the term. Then she asks: What were the different ways in which intellectuals, opposed to colonialism in the early 20th century, imagined conceptions of the Indian “self,” of the swa- in swaraj. In pursuit of the answer, she constructs an analysis in which she assigns concepts that provide the framework for these individuals’ construction of the Indian self. For MK Gandhi, it is ahimsa (non-violence), for BR Ambedkar it is dukha (suffering), for Rabindranath Tagore viraha (longing), for Abanindranath Tagore samvega (aesthetic shock), and for Jawaharlal Nehru both dharma (aspiration) and artha (purpose). Since each of these individuals needed to evolve a conceptual platform from where to launch an intellectual critique of colonialism and western modernity, these categories could not, by design, be derived from European ways of thought or western texts, but need to have their moorings in the diverse Indic traditions that populate the Indian landscape. This was the realistic way in which leaders could respond to the predicament they faced, i.e., of articulating a sense of Indian sovereignty that was not derived from the conceptual vocabulary of western modernity. This quest forced them “to swim out into the wide deep waters of the traditions that had once been their own.” (p. xvii) Thus, the “search for the self—the self whose political sovereignty had to be reinstated—took the form of an attempt to recover a line of moral inquiry from a welter of Indian traditions.” (p. xxi). The choices of these five individuals reveal the distinct ways in which the founders of modern Indian political discourses chose to set limits on what constitutes their India, indeed the connotation they accorded to the Indian “self”. It is noteworthy that the preambles of both the Indian and American Constitutions begin with the phrase “we the people”, in acknowledgement of the democratic principle that “the people” are the sovereign power that sustain their respective polities. What Vajpeyi’s analysis does so admirably is to deepen our grasp of how the category of the Indian self, which serves as the basis for what is Indian about “the people,” came to be imagined by the makers of modern India. Just as American connotations of terms like “freedom” and “equality” are deeply embedded in the American history of slavery, empire, and capitalism, Vajpeyi’s analysis provides us with an approach for grasping the conceptual vocabulary shaped by India’s history of colonialism and nationalism. In many ways, Vajpeyi furthers the analysis of Sunil Khilnani’s The Idea of India by explaining how, despite the ascendency of Nehruvian conceptions of nationalism and socialism in the early years of the Indian republic, other imaginings have continued to serve as the protagonists of India’s epic journey. It is tempting to ask whether the righteousness that the early nationbuilders imagined for the Indian republic is, in fact, reflected in contemporary ground realities. Most would answer this question in the negative, since the country is clearly struggling to resolve a variety of social and institutional pathologies. The ongoing debates about corruption and the position of women in India, punctuate this mood all too well. As does that fact the Indian state is in war with many of this own people in large swathes of the central Indian tribal heartland over issues of land acquisition, cultural autonomy for adivasis, and the management of natural resources. Clearly, the aspirations for the Indian republic as articulated by the five iconic figures analysed by Vajpeyi are far from being realised. For this reason, it is provocative to place Ananya Vajpeyi’s intellectual history of the idea of India characterised as a Righteous Republic alongside Arundhati Roy’s characterisation of contemporary India as a Broken Republic, the title of her last book. While both books are different in their objectives, style, and content, their conclusions only serve to remind us of how contentiously the different Indian selves—from the Adivasi, Dalit, rural selves on the one hand, to the globalising, liberalising, nationalist selves on the other—continue to shape the destiny of the Indian republic.
Rakesh Verma: By 2004, we realised digital maps would be a crowded market. We knew the only thing that could differentiate us from the crowd was a brand that people could rely on. Being a product company, we were nothing without a brand. The first step towards making a brand was to take it to consumers. So, we thought of the internet. Rohan Verma: I was in my first year of electrical engineering at Stanford University, US, when my father had this idea— web maps. These were early days of the internet. There had been a boom and bust but people hadn’t thought of many ways of making money through the internet. I began benchmarking the different models around the world for digital maps—companies like MapQuest, YahooMaps and Maporama. At that time, we weren’t really thinking about a consumer focus as opposed to a focus on enterprise clients. We were just excited by the possibilities of what we could do with this business. It took us three months to build the website models around the world for digital maps—companies like MapQuest, YahooMaps and Maporama. At that time, we weren’t really thinking about a consumer focus as opposed to a focus on enterprise clients. We were just excited by the possibilities of what we could do with this business. It took us three months to build the website of Sherpalo Ventures (who had invested in Google, Amazon and Zynga). Kleiner Perkins and Ram Shriram invested in us in August 2006. With money in the bank, we could focus on technology. Around this time, the world was moving from Web 1.0 to Web 2.0. My father wanted us to upgrade, too. So, I took a quarter off from Stanford to do this. Soon, MapmyIndia became one of the first Web 2.0 technology portals in India. Rakesh Verma: Since then, we have raised $25 million in total, and reached four investors—Kleiner Perkins Caufield and Byers, Sherpalo Ventures, Nexus India Capital, and last year, Zenrin Co. As a product company, we needed a lot of upfront investment. Plus, our challenges were greater because we didn’t just create a brand, we created an entire category. We are thought leaders in the mapping and navigation solutions space in India. That was tough, we enjoy the advantages of being first movers and have been able to sustain our market share even when the market was growing. Yet, not everybody agreed with all our decisions. When we brought out our GPS device Navigator in 2007, it was new for India. People wondered why we were doing this. Some of our investors felt we should not have entered this space on our own. Our investors felt we should just supply maps to manufacturers. But, we knew we were going the right way. After its launch, the brand really started building on its own. In 2004, we’d entered the internet space. of Sherpalo Ventures (who had invested in Google, Amazon and Zynga). Kleiner Perkins and Ram Shriram invested in us in August 2006. With money in the bank, we could focus on technology. Around this time, the world was moving from Web 1.0 to Web 2.0. My father wanted us to upgrade, too. So, I took a quarter off from Stanford to do this. Soon, MapmyIndia became one of the first Web 2.0 technology portals in India. Rakesh Verma: Since then, we have raised $25 million in total, and reached four investors—Kleiner Perkins Caufield and Byers, Sherpalo Ventures, Nexus India Capital, and last year, Zenrin Co. As a product company, we needed a lot of upfront investment. Plus, our challenges were greater because we didn’t just create a brand, we created an entire category. We are thought leaders in the mapping and navigation solutions space in India. That was tough, we enjoy the advantages of being first movers and have been able to sustain our market share even when the market was growing. Yet, not everybody agreed with all our decisions. When we brought out our GPS device Navigator in 2007, it was new for India. People wondered why we were doing this. Some of our investors felt we should not have entered this space on our own. Our investors felt we should just supply maps to manufacturers. But, we knew we were going the right way. After its launch, the brand really started building on its own. In 2004, we’d entered the internet space. of Sherpalo Ventures (who had invested in Google, Amazon and Zynga). Kleiner Perkins and Ram Shriram invested in us in August 2006. With money in the bank, we could focus on technology. Around this time, the world was moving from Web 1.0 to Web 2.0. My father wanted us to upgrade, too. So, I took a quarter off from Stanford to do this. Soon, MapmyIndia became one of the first Web 2.0 technology portals in India. Rakesh Verma: Since then, we have raised $25 million in total, and reached four investors—Kleiner Perkins Caufield and Byers, Sherpalo Ventures, Nexus India Capital, and last year, Zenrin Co. As a product company, we needed a lot of upfront investment. Plus, our challenges were greater because we didn’t just create a brand, we created an entire category. We are thought leaders in the mapping and navigation solutions space in India. That was tough, we enjoy the advantages of being first movers and have been able to sustain our market share even when the market was growing. Yet, not everybody agreed with all our decisions. When we brought out our GPS device Navigator in 2007, it was new for India. People wondered why we were doing this. Some of our investors felt we should not have entered this space on our own. Our investors felt we should just supply maps to manufacturers. But, we knew we were going the right way. After its launch, the brand really started building on its own. In 2004, we’d entered the internet space. In 2007, we were moving from being a software to a hardware company. Rohan Verma: Even though we were a small company, we gave in to the demands of professionals, and went in for television and print advertising campaigns in 2008-09. But what we did well and differently from other players was that when we started selling devices in 2007, we invested in educating the market. We hired 150 sales people on the ground. This built long-lasting value. When people went to buy our product, we had a guy at the retail point. That organically created, and helped perpetuate what the GPS was. This kind of street presence was a conventional FMCG approach but it was unconventional for a company of our size. Investing in a market before it’s even born is what forerunners do. That has had a lasting brand impact— our customers associate these products for us. Rakesh Verma: After the GPS device in 2007, we’ve launched products like mobile maps, navigation systems and tracking devices. We’ve grown over 600 per cent over the past three years. Today, 75 per cent of our revenue comes from consumer business. Rohan Verma: By the time I was finishing up at Stanford in 2007, the company had achieved a lot. Our people had done a great job, yet we had done only half of what we could do with the portal. Going forward, we don’t want to “complexify” our maps but we certainly want to personalise it. Our maps should know you.
SIFT THROUGH THE reports from the recent Women’s World Cup held in India—which Australia won—and words like ‘sexism’, ‘apathy’, ‘discriminatory’ and ‘insult’ pop out. The two-week long tournament, with matches in Mumbai and Cuttack, hardly created a ripple and was the latest illustration of why the women’s game is languishing in the margins. A few points: 1. A week before the start of the tournament, whose schedules were announced three years ago, all matches were moved from Mumbai’s Wankhede Stadium to accommodate a Ranji Trophy final and an Irani Trophy match. The games were held in three other stadiums in Mumbai and two venues in Cuttack, which is in the opposite end of the country. 2. Two days before the start of the tournament Diana Edulji, a former Indian captain and one of the pioneers of the women’s game, slammed the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) for their disinterest. In an interview to ESPNCricinfo, she said women’s cricket was in danger of dying if the current situation persists. 3. Police outnumbered spectators in many of the World Cup matches. An estimated 300 watched the Australia-Pakistan match at the Barabati Stadium in Cuttack. This despite entry into the stadiums being free. 4. When asked about the poor crowd response, tournament director, Suru Nayak, said the International Cricket Council (ICC) were responsible for promoting the event. “The BCCI has no say in the tournament, it’s the ICC who are organising it,” he told the Times of India. 5. India were eliminated from the tournament within the first week. And along with them went the little bit of interest that remained. Not that the grounds were full even for India games. Reports suggest vast empty spaces even for matches involving the hosts. These are big issues for a global tournament. There is something wrong when organisers allow domestic matches to take precedence over a World Cup. And one senses a deeper malaise when issues as serious as those raised by Edulji come to the fore only before a major event. The average Indian fan approaches women’s cricket in the same way he approaches the Asian Games or the Olympics: make some noise every four years and then forget about it in the intervening period. There are no raging TV debates about women’s cricket, no online wars over team selection. The BCCI has plenty to answer for. Women’s cricket came under the aegis of the board in 2006. Yes, state associations have allowed women players to use training facilities. Yes, there has been a burgeoning of the back-room staff of the women teams. But none of this can make up for the fact that the BCCI has done little to integrate the women’s game into the mainstream. “If there is more support from the BCCI, then standards will rise,” said Clare Connor, the ICC women’s committee chairman. “The passion is there for the game, people just need to know more about women’s cricket probably, and hopefully that support will grow.” The organisers did little to advertise the tournament. No signboards and hoardings that screamed at you. No serious promotion of the event. Even women cricket fans in Mumbai—who would have flocked to the grounds for an international match or IPL—didn’t show much interest. A review of the tournament in ESPNCricinfo was critical of the lack of atmosphere in the grounds. There was no music to pep up the games, no regular announcements. The participating country’s national anthems were played only in the final. There were no cheerleaders, no mid-innings entertainment. Back in February 2008, I watched India play Australia in a T20 match in Melbourne. As an opening act before the game, England and Australia played a women’s T20. This was a fine initiative on the part of the Australian board. Not only did it allow the women a chance to compete in front of a big crowd but also gave the fans an incentive to come and watch them. There was entertainment through the game. And the women later spoke of how much of a difference it makes to have a big crowd watching them. The BCCI must follow this lead and schedule women’s T20 games during the IPL and international T20s. This can be a great way to introduce women’s cricket stars to the average fan. This can also serve as a chance to allow more interaction between the men and women cricketers. It would give young, aspiring women cricketers a chance to learn from some of the leading lights in the men’s game. And vice-versa. Corporates have to cop some blame too. Advertising and marketing priorities seem so lopsided that even pre-eminent women cricketers like Mithali Raj and Jhulan Goswami don’t find themselves on hoardings and TV ads. Companies need to recognise that these women would serve as an inspiration for others aspiring to take up the game. Popular culture is yet to embrace women’s cricket. There has been no Bend It Like Beckham or Dare to Dream (the story of US women’s soccer) that has seeped into public consciousness. Movies, documentaries and magazines can play their part in spreading the message. The blame game, though, can only go so far. To see a real change in the profile of the women’s game, we need a collective effort in vitalising the grassroots. Parents need to encourage girls to play with the boys in the neighborhood maidans. They need to push them to attend summer training camps. And they need to be willing to send teenage girls to countries like England to play in clubs and leagues, to hone their skills. Schools and colleges need to have cricket tournaments for girls. Clubs must start women’s-only teams and actively seek out talented players from their respective cities. Women’s cricket in India doesn’t operate in a vacuum. It is part of a larger society that discourages women from excelling in fields that have traditionally been male bastions. It operates in a culture where large number of women cricketers give up the game once they are married. For every Mithali or Jhulan, there are thousands of girls whose parents frown upon them for picking up a bat and ball. Until that equation changes, the blatant disparity between the men’s and women’s game will sadly continue.
THE DEMAND for a separate state of Telangana is today more than 50 years old. The state of Andhra Pradesh was formed against the recommendation of the SRC, which wanted to keep the region separate. A pact—Gentleman’s Agreement—was signed in 1956 between Telangana and Andhra leaders. The agreement provided safeguards with the purpose of preventing discrimination against Telangana. The alleged violations of this agreement are cited as one of the reasons for demands of a separate statehood for Telangana. In this battle for statehood, Telangana’s not the only participant. The past decades have seen an increase in the demand to break up existing states—the Hindi Heartland of UP into Bundelkhand, Purvanchal, Awadh Pradesh and Paschim Pradesh. The Vidarbha region of Maharashtra is also demanding for political autonomy. The premise of these demands are being set is ‘administrative viability’. The argument is that smaller states are better governed, and thus are more likely to develop. While the newly-formed Chhattisgarh is performing relatively better, its mother state Madhya Pradesh has not been able to replicate the success story. The failed state of the Northeastern region of the country, after the breakup of Greater Assam into several smaller states, also raises questions on the argument of administrative viability. In the past few years, Bihar has seen a dramatic growth; however Jharkhand has failed to do the same. It could be argued that Chhattisgarh and Uttarakhand got small parts of their mother states, but Jharkhand constituted a significant part of undivided Bihar, owing to its under performance. But it cannot be ignored that the success of Bihar is a product of strong governance and political will. Now there are Vidharbha, Telangana and Bundelkhand—all demanding political autonomy. That leads us to ponder over Nehru’s decision of dividing states on linguistic lines. Existing small states do not always lead to success stories—so do / can smaller states lead to wholesome development? The available data presents a mixed image, thus it will be safe to say that division alone is not the answer. Is not better to invest the available resources in the making the current infrastructure robust? How viable is the idea of smaller states for India? DW spoke to experts Dr Asha Sarangi, Professor of Political Science at the Jawaharlal Nehru University, and Professor Ambuja Kumar Tripathy, Professor of Political Science at the Delhi University, for the Issue of the Month.
DR ASHA SARANGI//The idea of forming new states and dividing larger ones into smaller entities began in the 1920s. It was only after independence that the idea of states being formed on the lines of linguistic homogeneity and geographical compactness started especially with the formation of States Reorganisation Commission, and prior to that, with the Dar Commission and JVC. But the 14 states formed, were too large. Amalgamated areas which could have been cut into separate, smaller states. Thus, regional imbalances and diversities were not administratively taken care of. And states began to breed the logic of ‘internal colonialism’ (more prosperous parts asserting their economic and cultural hegemony over the backward ones). A number of protest movements arose due to these internal disequilibrium across regions. In terms of population growth, often it is the idea of ‘size’ that leads to a demand for partition. Importantly, the demand can also be seen as a regional assertion and can be a result of coalition politics, with regional parties leading the drive. Also, partition demand has a lot to do with identity politics, and issues of distributive justice and equality. Backward states often feel discriminated due to their developmental deficit and believe that a break-up into smaller entities might prove to be advantageous. Break-up also demands attention of the Centre and extra investment of resources. HOWEVER, A division is not simply a question of resource and investment, but accounts for political stability, and to a large extent, warrants administrative efficiency. It has to do with the nature of coalition politics in a region, and its manipulative tactics on the part of the dominant regional party or parties and players. If it is too strong then the Centre often gives in to the demands. Whether or not such divisions bring success cannot be ascertained simply. We can not rely only on GDP figures to indicate growth, as it does not address the issue of regional inequality, structures of poverty and backwardness. Cutting the size of states to manageable administrative units might be a short term answer to manage equitable distribution of wealth. But it will be so only in those cases where developmental parameters are already in place, and a certain degree of political maturity exists. In can occur in states geared towards de-centralization of power and resources. If there is a need to redraw the map of India, considerations such as equitable distribution of resources, fair share of natural resources for the intra-state uses, transparency and accountability of rule, and inter-state parity should be kept in mind. The present-day politicians need to remind themselves about the democratic agenda of change, and the urgent need to take peoples wishes into account. For instance, in case of Telangana, both Congress and the TDP need to come to terms with the demand for separate statehood for Telangana on some fundamental issues, and not indulge in populist tactics. Partially, I agree with the idea that instead of breaking-up states, perhaps strengthening the current infrastructure and focusing on making the system more robust would be a better option. However, infrastructural growth and development has to be in accordance with egalitarian ethos. Simply corporatising the economy is not an answer for the growth and development of a plural society such as India.
AMBUJA KUMAR TRIPATHY // The demand for smaller states is not new, and similar cries have been heard from time-to-time, sometime on basis of ethnicity, and increasingly on basis of a demand for better governance and rapid development. The country has witnessed people’s agitation based on this demand. According to estimates, a rational re-organisation of the federal country into smaller states will give India around 50 states. In mid 1970s, Rasheeduddin Khan had argued for 56 states, on the basis of social and cultural factors. Post-2000, there has been a spate of demands after the formation of three new states; Chhattisgarh, Uttaranchal and Jharkhand. The Telangana agitation has raised interesting questions about the relationship between state size and better development—does size matter? Are smaller states better governed? Those in favor of smaller states argue that they make for better delivery of public services, accountability, opportunities and access to opportunities. There are no definitive answers. After all, what is the effective size of an administrative unit if it wishes to deliver good governance and citizens’ services? Evidence of performance of small versus larger states is highly mixed, showing clearly that there is little relationship between size and developmental efficacy. As W. Arthur Lewis has noted: any understanding of “the engine of growth” would be a “theory of government, where government would appear to be as much the problem, as the solution”. So, it is the quality of government intervention that really matters. It is debatable whether this is dependent on the size of state. Let us look at the hard data concerning the roles that state governments have played in fostering rates and patterns of economic development. During the Xth Five Year Plan period, Chhattisgarh experienced 9.2 per cent of growth (annual) compared to MP’s 4.3 per cent, Jharkhand saw an 11.1 per cent annual growth compared to Bihar’s 4.7 per cent, and Uttaranchal achieved 8.8 per cent growth compared to UP’s 4.6 per cent. If we take some more estimates, we can see that the BPL population is 32 per cent in Chhattisgarh, 14 per cent in MP, 25per cent in Uttaranchal and 14.4 per cent in UP. Research indicates that the richest states (like Punjab) grew three to four times faster than poorer states (say, Bihar) between 1970 and 2005. The Gini coefficient of per capita consumption is found highest for Tamil Nadu and Maharashtra (0.35 and 0.4 per cent) showing extreme variations intrastate even in the richest states. The mixed record is the testimony to the fact that the size of state and degree of development may not have the direct causal relationship. However, it also must be noted that there is nothing wrong with the core idea of creating new states—but given the plethora of demands a serious case-by-case analysis is to be made. Federal unity or stability is no longer a concern like in the 1950s and 1960s, so demands should not be perceived as threats to federalism. Smaller states are being proposed on the grounds of more pragmatic parameters such as economic growth, development, demographic size and administrative convenience rather than merely on the linguistic or cultural principle. So the underlying basis of numerous demands now could be made subject to rational analysis. Conceptually speaking, in smaller states it is easier for people to be heard, and their development needs are taken care of better. Central policies are easier to implement and monitor. It frees people of the deprivation complex and the feeling of domination by more powerful sections from other regions of the bigger state. Sometimes, such demands have roots in the continuing underdevelopment and neglect of sub-regions within large states, for instance demands for the formation of Vidharbha, Bodoland and Saurashtra. In such cases, we need to address the basic issues of better governance, economic viability, administrative convenience and greater people’s participation. The groups making demands are to be convinced that the mere creation of smaller states out of the existing bigger ones does not guarantee good governance and faster and inclusive economic development.
MOST WITH an interest in economics are rather put off by the thought of reading economic history. Given the 15-page bibliography, a casual reader intrigued by the title may well feel tempted to put India Means Business How the Elephant Earned its Stripes back on the bookshelf. But ignore the rather text-bookish package, and the 339 pages in hardback make for an interesting read. Chartered accountant-researchers-authors Kshama V. Kaushik and Kaushik Dutta have done an exemplary job as economic historians setting the context of Indian business. As India opens up to the world, the book becomes a collector’s edition for any company wanting to do business here. It takes on a cultural-commercial journey of discovery of India down the ages and in the process unravels the way Indian business ethos was formed. What we learn in the process is that India has always meant business. The story starts at the beginning of the 18th century when the Indian subcontinent had a flourishing overseas trade. The painstaking research of the authors is obvious but nowhere does it interfere in the narrative to make it a dull piece of history. So we learn about Zaveris of Ahmedabad who still continue in ancestral jewellery trade, Travadis of Surat and Hiranand Sahu of Patna who were Sahukars or moneylenders. The Elephant called India was trumpeting high. But the advent of the British traders on its shores changed all that. Hundi and arbitrage go back to the 18th century and if it were not were the House of Jagat Seths founded by Hiranand Sahu the British perhaps would not have succeeded in setting up their empire. The conspiracy of Seths led to the Battle of Plassey and the victory of the English. It is such interesting tidbits that make the book interesting. India’s multi-format business has its root in its history as we learn from the book and also that ASSOCHAM, FICCI, CII are but modern and evolved versions of srenis or nigamas of ancient times. The authors’ insights into Indian family business and their knack for survival through the rough and tumble of politics is interesting. Right from the time of the nationalist movement, business families in India have avoided confrontational politics and their “biggest advantage…is their ability to adjust to prevalent political dispensation”. The cynics amongst us may perhaps find this “ability” an euphemism for some harsher adjectives especially in the current scenario where neither are cutting a very ethical picture.
Manil Suri’s The City of Devi is the final installment in a trilogy which began with The Death of Vishnu in 2001. The second book in the series was The Age of Shiva, which although not as acclaimed as the first novel, received good reviews all around. Suri cleverly links the three novels not through narrative but through the theme of the holy trinity in Hinduism. The surprise being that the final novel deals with Devi and not Bramha as being a part of the holy triumvirate. This also seems to be an intelligent contemporary twist given to an old ideology. In marrying the topics of mythology with modern day power scenario in an increasingly insecure world threatened by terrorism and warfare, Suri has come up a complex layered novel that also manages to present an interesting human tale of emotions centered on love for an individual. The story begins in Mumbai that has been nearly annihilated through nuclear bombs in the battle ensuing between rival gangs of Hindu and Muslim fundamentalist factions, fueled by a CIA supported Pakistan army. As the city lies bleeding, the denizens are trying to carry on with some modicum of normalcy. Central to the story is Sarita, a devoted and yet modern Hindu wife in search of her missing husband. Her undying hope and relentless quest leads her through markets in search of the last elusive pomegranate which she believes will rescue her marriage, hospitals, even discos using various means of transport. Her husband Karun, a physicist has gone missing and although his whereabouts are unknown, Sarita believes that her willpower, courage and a helping hand from the mother of the universe, Devi would help her succeed in finding him, a mission shared by the second main character in the novel, Ijaz. Jazter, as Ijaz likes to call himself in the third person, is a Muslim with only one religion as he claims himself- having sex with other men. Right at the very beginning, it becomes clear that there’s more to it than Ijaz’s seemingly helpful nature when he offers to assist Sarita in her quest to find Karun. Ijaz, as it turns out, has been in a relationship with Karun for several years before things turned sour between them, a fact that pushes Karun towards marrying Sarita. The first half of the novel is rather slow and builds up the story of the relationship between the three protagonists through elaborate descriptions of love-making, both queer and straight, exposing the fundamental reason for Karun’s reluctance to submit himself completely to Sarita. The underlying complexity of Karun’s psyche is not explored fully but the story ambles along to a fairly thrilling second half dominated by the narrative of rival factions playing out their hostilities through destruction of the city of their livelihood. Passions are roused through evoking devotion towards the city’s patron Goddess, Mumba Devi resulting in the city being ravaged by the Hindu chief, Bhim’s men as well as the rival muslim gangs. As the story reaches a final crescendo, emotions are laid bare and many surprises come to the fore. The three characters in keeping with the theme of the holy trinity resolve their complex story of loving and losing through a Bollywood style climax after a crazy odyssey that takes them through the length and breadth of the island sometimes on foot, in trains that are being bombed, and even on elephants. Suri reveals his background of being an expert Mathematician by balancing out the equations of violence and love in a city that equally supports traditional beliefs of faith in the Goddess, just as it presents itself as a modern, heartless haven where people often sell their souls to realise their dreams. In summary, despite being graphic, dramatic and very violent, The City of Devi is a story told rather well in an uniquely satiric and dramatic style, living up to Suri’s reputation of being one of the most iconoclastic storytellers of our time. Despite the background of a modern day world terrorised by violence with no respite, the novel succeeds in conveying the triumph of love, hope and faith, against all odds.
My journey from freezing Madrid, where the weather forecast kept predicting snow, to warm, sunny Valencia took exactly two hours, but it was like going to another country altogether. The skies in Valencia resolutely remained fiercely blue, orange trees lined every street; one end of the city was bound by a beach, along which ran a line of paella restaurants. The old part of the city was crammed with historic squares, churches and clock towers, while the new part was graced with the cutting edge City of Arts and Sciences designed by architect Santiago Calatrava. Add to it the largest historic covered market in the country, the home of not only paella but also the little known tigernut (yes! You read that right!) and also a super potent drink called Agua de Valencia, so famous that it is now branded and sold in bottles to eager tourists. And no, this is not all that Valencia has to offer: it is but a foretaste. I was propping up the bar at Casa Montana. Young Alejandro Garcia Llinares was telling me how he and his wife bought an ancient wine cellar in newly fashionable El Cabanyal district and turned it into a smart bar where the accent is on the tapas: golden fried potatoes with garlic aioli and fava beans napped in a sauce so addictive I wonder if it has some illegal substance in it. Washing it down is a glass or three of Vermouth taken from the enormous casks that line the little bodega. Once you have spent time in Spain, you will figure out how to ration your intake. Grazing is the name of the game, and the more time you take to do it, and the more places you visit, the better you can be said to have mastered the game. So after exploring the marina with a desi connection, I was ready for paella (the desi connection, for those who care, is because Vijay Mallya found it difficult to dock his outsize yacht in the expansive marina. Authorities are now thinking of widening it before Shri Mallya comes calling again). Paella is a beautiful dish. It contains rice (of the variety known as bomba), and two or more of the following: garlic, garafon beans, broad beans, rabbit, chicken, seafood and saffron. It was traditionally made over a wood fire, but modern living being what it is, that is a thing of the past. The row of paella restaurants that overlook the beach all specialise in seafood paella. La Marcelina is usually acknowledged to be the most popular. What is the main difference between biryani and paella is that a restaurant specialising in the former would have ready prepared all its biryani before the restaurant opened and kept it warm. The idea of cooking each order of biryani a la minute is laughable. In Valencia, each and every restaurant, no matter how tiny, cooks their paella to order. I guess it helps that the rice needs neither soaking nor washing and the paella pans are wide and shallow so that all liquid evaporates rapidly. Unlike biryani, where every restaurant or household would have a single recipe, paella really does come in several choices of meats. It is said that the original combination was rabbit and chicken with two types of beans, but lobster, shrimp, mussels, fish and any permutation and combination thereof is completely kosher. It doesn’t even have to be the trademark golden colour: my host, Miguel Angel Perez, Valencian to the core, ordered squid ink paella, so his rice was black. That first day was relaxed, and so Miguel Perez and I drove to the City of Arts and Sciences to walk about in the courtyards of the buildings and admire the curvilinear silhouettes of the science museum and the aquarium, set amid open gardens where the sporty and fitness oriented portion of the population jogged and cycled their way through what were the lungs of the city. Speaking for myself, Calatrava’s vision was so extraordinary that it was like being in a museum. The very next day, amidst buildings that ranged from the 13th to 18th centuries, I felt that I was in an organically developing city that was being used by its inhabitants: the Arts and Sciences spectacle on the other hand, was a self-conscious spectacle, magnificent nevertheless. The next day was a whirlwind of visiting the iconic Central Market, built entirely of metal, like the Eiffel Tower and eating and drinking my way through a mountain of food and drink. The narrow streets of the old part of the city wound through lanes with a fair proportion of restaurants, bars and cafes. One of the cafes had another desi connection: Café De Las Horas right on Conde de Almodovar. Unabashedly over the top, quirky, colourful and artistic, the pedestrian only walkway is in the heart of the old town, a stone’s throw from the plaza with the Cathedral and the Basilica of the Virgin de los Desamparados, two partners own the Café (it’s actually a bar), one Indian. When I expressed my admiration of the interiors of his bar, Marc Insanally went the extra mile to show me the photographs of ‘before’ and ‘after’ he and his partner did up the shed and made it drop dead glamorous with the kind of back-breaking work that no desi entrepreneur would ever dream of doing. It’s where I sampled my first Agua de Valencia—a blow-away-the-top-of-yourhead cocktail made from vodka, gin, champagne or cava and fresh orange juice. You would think that any drink at all made and/or drunk in Valencia just had to have orange juice or pulp in it, going by the number of orange trees on every street. But you would not have taken into account the smooth, refreshing horchata. Made of tiger nuts—don’t be fooled by the name: their appearance is like shrivelled peanuts—horchata is a filling drink that is touted as a lactose-free alternative to milk. Apparently, you go for an evening walk and visit an horchateria for an ice-cold drink. There’s too much to tell you about Valencia: I plan to visit that city again during the unique Fallas celebrations, so there’ll be more stories yet.
IS INDIAN Foreign Policy constrained? If we look at the larger paradigm on how Indian Foreign Policy is conducted, then we will have to borrow from Shyam Saran who explained its scope as, an “immediate neighbourhood” including South Asia (plus); then an extended periphery including Central and South East Asia and South Pacific; and the larger section where there is maximum clarity on what India needs to do (Europe and Africa). In that larger section, Foreign Policy is largely dictated by economic ideas, constraints and ties. In South East Asia, India it is said wants to do ‘much more’, but because of India’s ability and image (when compared to China) it is not able to. India has made loud noises about Looking East. But if it really wanted to look east, the country by now should have had its presence in the area. Why have we not been able to have better ties with Myanmar? Because, to do that we will also have to make a bridge between Bangladesh, eastern India, northeastern India and Myanmar. India, it seems, is constrained by our own internal shortcomings. Perhaps, that is why it has not being able to successfully counter Indian insurgent groups based in Myanmar. To understand the region better, one has to look at its history; India, Bangladesh, Pakistan and Sri Lanka, some 60 years ago, were all a part of one singular geopolitical entity. Myanmar was part of British India, as was India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. Sri Lanka was under the British, so geographically, politically and monetarily, South Asia was one entity. There were economic similarities. When they got fragmented, from being an integrated region, South Asia became non-integrated, fragile. That also hit the economic prowess of every country and the petty quarrels that came forth due to the fragmented structure of all these entities, including India, made the region poorer—the region was not organised enough to boost business or exports. But it all changed from 1991, there was a growth spurt in the region and the rate of growth was fastest in India. The domino effect rippled beyond the borders of this country. There was a change in the group. Suddenly there was a coherency and coordination in this region, especially if you looked at Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. They started to look at India as a “role model”. So, the countries were deriving ideas and inspiration from each other. DW talked to two experts, Dr Prabir De, RIS and D. Suba Chandran, IPCS, on whether India’s Foreign Policy reflects its trade interests.
PRABIR DE // India’s foreign policy traditionally used to be South Asia-centric. Today, however, it has a more global interests— as is apparent by the visits made by global, political and economic luminaries to India. For the past eight years, India has shown exponential growth in its bid to counter China and it is finally on the world map as a emerging and developing market, and India’s foreign policy, too, is showing these marked changes. India’s erstwhile Nehruvian policies, based on the ideas of detachment—we will not go to the Russian side, neither will we be a part of NATO—all those ideas are slowly changing. India is an active member of world forums and sessions, whether economic or political. It is no longer a non-alliance partner. As far as India’s South Asian foreign policies are concerned, the economic engagements have become more pronounced and as such our foreign policy has started to show that trend to engage more with the neighbours. Economic integration between India and her South Asian neighbours has become more. Of course the relationship is not the same with everyone as various dimensions and variations are present in this equation. Between India and Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, in terms of trade and investment, major imports are from India. In case of Nepal, 60 per cent of its imports come from India. In case of Bangladesh, over 20 per cent imports is from India, while in case of Bhutan, 80 per cent is from India while 30 per cent of Sri Lanka's imports are from Indian shores. What about India? Truly India does not depend on its neighbours as much as they do. Our economic profile requires a large amount of energy, to get that we cannot depend simply on our South Asian neighbours. India also needs a large amount of technological expertise for which it cannot depend exclusively on its South Asian neighbours. India’s dependence is less than that of its neighbours, but it is rising fast. When it comes to textile and ready-made garments; India imports a large amount from Bangladesh. Because Bangladesh is one of the top three garment export countries in the world. India has allowed dutyfree exports from Bangladesh. These changes, especially exchanges, are reflected in our foreign policy. Similarly, India exports tea from Sri Lanka, dry fruits from Pakistan and Afghanistan and there is a good amount of exchange between the countries as far as services are concerned. In Myanmar, India is much engaged in its politics. The country was one of the forward- looking and growing countries till the military took it over in the 1968. Today, economic sanctions have been lifted and people of Myanmar are looking more towards India as a “big brother”, as they are somewhat frustrated by the Chinese engagement with the country from 1998. We can safely say that India is more invested in developing activities in Myanmar, roads, infrastructure and education, than China ever was. Our Foreign Minister visited Myanmar in 2012. ONGC now owns stakes in two blocks of gas reserves in Myanmar. To bring that gas to India, the companies will need the Bangladeshi approval and if it cannot obtain that they will have to sell it to China. It seems that the one-way street is getting more integrated and, foreign policy is starting to manifest the changes.
D. SUBA CHANDRAN // We have to see the question in two sets of responses that India in terms of economic situation within the region, especially when it comes to the immediate neighbours. Trade issues never made sense in building a better relationship with any one of our neighbouring countries— at least it seems thus when you look at the foreign policy that has been pursued by India. In fact, if India had indeed taken that attitude, then the SAARC would have taken a different avatar altogether. When it comes to our neighbouring countries, say a Pakistan or Bangladesh, an even if a better relationship would improve or enhance trade, neither India nor the neighbouring countries would pursue that option because of national pride. There is a wrong notion of bilateral relationship comes in the way of India pursuing a right Foreign Policy using economic means as a roadmap to build better relationships. India’s relationship with South East Asia or with Europe, economic factor does play a significant factor in developing our Foreign Policy. Today, India- ASEAN ties is both a product and a strategy to enhance the larger India and South East Asia strategic partnership. Same is the case with India and Europe. Perhaps, we are moving towards a similar relationship with China as well. Trade and bilateral investments (by India) in China is playing a role in shaping India’s Foreign Policy more than its ties with the neighbouring countries— and it seems that it is unlikely to be feature as a factor anytime soon. Take Afghanistan and Myanmar for instance. India is looking at the two countries in terms of aid relationships—India is asking herself about how much it can invest in Myanmar or Afghanistan. It is not a relationship based on mutual investment, Rather, it is a strategy to upset someone else’s presence in these two countries—in case of Myanmar it is to ensure that Chinese footprint is kept minimal and in case of Afghanistan, it is of course Pakistan’s footprint. That is not an economic consideration but an aid relationship. There is talk around how “we” are pursuing a Look East Policy and how as early as the Vajpay government showed interest in the neighbouring countries around India. My question is that who are these “We” collective that we constantly refer to? If you are talking about the Foreign Ministry and the Prime Minister’s Office (PMO) then perhaps, yes. The commerce ministry and others who could actually benefit from the economic liaisons are actually interested in pursuing the matter further. They don’t see it in the same paradigm as the PMO sees it. That is why despite a lot of promises been made by the PMO, the same is not actually translated on an economic level. Our investment has not moved—this Looking Towards the East or wherever we were supposed to look at, is not by a monolithic “we”. Finance, Commerce, Education and Petroleum Ministry are not on the same page as the PMO and the Foreign Ministry. I can give you an example to illustrate the lack of balance here; Sri Lanka wants an IIT extension in Colombo. While the PMO might very well want to have an extension as well, but the Education Ministry or the UGC has made little headway into the plan— because they are not too keen on that. Trade will continue to grow and expand in a substantial way and there has been a quantum jump in the past few years as far as you see China. But bilateral relationship will not grow in the same way. Especially if you look between 2008 and 2012, there has been exponential trade growth between the two of us. If you look at the foreign relationship, in 2012 we are were we were in 2008. Perhaps, we are waiting for a future date. In this context, the larger interaction, there has been no negative consequences as well. On the economic side, we are marching, but we are competing with each other for the global or Asian or Africa supremacy talk. We are invested in aid in those areas because business and state agencies are both interested in trade relations there.