At that time, the Centre had planned to introduce in the Rajya Sabha, a bill to allow reservation in promotions of Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes in government jobs. The Union Cabinet cleared a proposal that seeks to amend four key articles of the Constitution to make that possible. Amending the Constitution became necessary after the Supreme Court, in April 2012, struck down a decision made by former Uttar Pradesh chief minister Mayawati to provide reservation for SC and STs in promotion to higher posts in government departments. At an all-party meeting in August, most political formations supported quota in reservations. But Attorney-General G.E. Vahanvati has warned the government that any law on the reservations issue should be framed with extreme caution because it is likely to be legally challenged. The UPA then requested the Opposition party, the BJP, to help pass the Bill; the BJP disallowed either House to function for 10 days demanding the Prime Minister’s resignation in connection with a coal scandal. But the party admitted that it supports the reservation-in-promotions Bill. When it quashed the Mayawati decision, the Supreme Court had questioned this criterion for promotion, saying the government needed to quantify that Dalits and backwards were insufficiently represented in the public services and therefore needed this quota. The court had said that three aspects needed to be looked into for reservations in promotions: backwardness, representation and overall administrative efficiency. Constitutional expert P.P. Rao said if the government brought in amendment without “curing the defects” pointed out by the Supreme Court then it may not stand legal scrutiny. On December 17, 2012, a Constitution Amendment Bill providing for quota for SCs and STs in government job promotions was passed by the Rajya Sabha with an overwhelming vote of 206 in the 245-member House. Around 10 votes were polled against the proposed legislation, which was strongly opposed by UPA ally Samajwadi Party but pushed by another supporter BSP. DW spoke to two experts, professor and social activist Kancha Ilaiah, who has been talking about Dalit rights for years now, and Anand Kumar, professor at Jawaharlal Nehru University. We quizzed them on five points—the merit of the decision, the disadvantages and advantages, and the blow to meritocracy (if any). Here is what they had to say.
KANCHA ILAIAH// How do we decide whether a habit is healthy or not? If it is a personal one, whether it is or not, it does not matter. However, when it is a social one, it needs to be scrutinised. Practising caste discrimination is a social habit of (so-called) uppercaste officials, whether at the entry-level or at the promotional level. In every office there are methods of discrimination—promotions may be governed by qualifications, but these qualifications are acquired or are given to only upper-caste employees, through caste preferential treatment. Those who head offices, by and large, are upper caste officials with a casteist mindset. While writing confidential reports, while allotting grades in service records, while sitting in selection committees—the mindset swings in favour of ‘certain candidates’. In order to see that biased promotions are not allowed, reservations, even in promotions, is a must. At least, thanks to the rule, people will not be able to stop other people within that quota from getting promoted. Until we abolish the caste system altogether, habits which emanate from it, cannot be changed. As for the question of whether this move is dictated by the vote bank—people’s life and dignity cannot be judged from the point of view of votes alone. There are some issues that are not judged by the point of view of votes alone. Everyone seeks the right to education. Dominant upper castes are not afraid of people’s votes. They are afraid of a civil war breaking out on caste lines—if some perks are not granted to all sections. Honestly, a job in a government office, especially in India, is not meant for public good. It meant for private enrichment—a benefit. Why should this benefit not go to the SCs, STs and the OBCs? As for the disadvantages, what are we talking about? Reservation has all the advantages for the SCs, STs and the OBCs, and all the disadvantages for the upper castes. In future, there is the possibility that upper castes may be displaced from decision-making positions which would, largely, be an advantage for the nation. Because the nation does not need the upper-caste gluttony. A nation needs productivity and creativity. Both will be available with the SCs, STs and the OBCs. As for the question of whether there would be dilution of merit, let me ask you—is there meritocracy within the upper castes? Where do you find the rule of meritocracy in this country? What kind of bureaucracy do we have? Where is merit in this system? Where does our system stand in comparison with other nations? A ruling class or caste which practices untouchbility has no right to talk about merit. If the SCs, STs and the OBCs come into the places or positions that the so-called upper-caste intellectuals occupy, they cannot spoil the meritlessness of our country, which has hit the rock bottom anyway. How can anybody take the system lower than what it is today? The Indian media should stop talking about merit at all. Only a truly-intellectual class that strives to improve lives of the poorest of the poor should be allowed to talk of merit. How can a so-called intellectual class which created untouchability issues in the first place, talk about merit? In the future, the SCs, STs and the OBCs will give a different meaning to merit which will hold true for all people, irrespective of caste.
ANAND KUMAR// This topic needs to be explored publicly by those who support or oppose it. More than the reservation issue, this decision to amend the Constitution, questions the workings of three institutions of the democracy—the legislative, judiciary and political. There was an old practice of granting promotion based on reservation criterion in bureaucracy in certain states of the country. A few people went on and complained regarding the legality of the situation to the Supreme Court. It asked governments to stop the practice till factual ground realities were presented before the court for consideration. Instead of presenting the ground realities of actual disproportion or discrimination based on facts, the central government decided to go for Constitutional Amendment bypassing the judiciary. This decision has been taken on a flimsy ground and it is not going to do good to the country— or to the people who support reservation on grounds of egalitarian ideas and justice. If you bypass judiciary in favour of legislature, then in these days of coalition governments, any group can take advantage of it, and move towards amendments which may dismantle the judicial regime. People should not be happy about the fact that the judiciary was bypassed for ensuring reservation in promotion for a handful of senior officials, who were not necessarily that kind of victims for who the idea was initiated 65 years from today. As for the question of meritocracy, that’s another area where we need factual understanding from both sides. Bureaucracy and meritocracy are not necessarily converging all the time. We need some technocrats to guide the meritocrat in any case. The way the state of India is; a person (bureaucrat) could be a general manager of Steel Authority of India, tomorrow might be looking after a “Model Bakery”, and day after he may be running the railways. There is little connection between authority, responsibility and meritocracy in India. The training, on basis of which the bureaucrats are performing their duties, falls within the frame of law. They are not running a lab through which new technologies will be implementised. They are not scientists of our missile centres—the meritocracy argument is not that strong. What is strong is the question of inner harmony within the bureaucracy itself. Because between two people, the process of promotion will be available on basis of their birth— that situation would lead to a reaction. Colleagues will anyway see an SC, ST or an OBC candidate to have entered with an advantage—either relaxed merit or age. If you are on a job for the 30 years, by then one should not need protection of the state to do better. Perhaps, there are people who are bright and just because they belong to a certain caste, face barriers built by the so-called upper-caste dominated bureaucratic system. But the SCs, STs and the OBCs, are just 22.5 per cent of the people. The rest of the population, it needs to be said, also need to be recognised, and incidentally they may belong to the dominant castes which may not always be the upper caste. So granting only 22.5 per cent the chance to do better will not help the nation. Granted that there may be instances when certain castes ‘gang up’ against others, but to prevent that, governments need to step in and ensure that merits and only that leads to promotion. Why is the government shying away from its job? It was the job of the UP government, and its honourable chief minister, to ensure that all her people got jobs. Why was she sitting on this judgment when she could have produced facts. It is somewhat of an open secret that there implementis a mismatch between the government’s claims and the reality. It is irresponsible politics to intervene with the Constitution for the whim of a handful who have created a nexus of politicians and bureaucrats. This is going to hurt the purity of thought that goes into the idea of reservation for those who need it today, tomorrow and after.
She may be the daughter of one of the most famous fathers in India, but danseuse Sharmistha Mukherjee is happier when people know her for her moves and mudrasDespite how cliched it might sound, I have noticed that in most middle-class, Bengali families there is an affinity towards art—most forms of it. Bengali children are encouraged by members of their families (whether a grandparent or an odd uncle or the parents themselves) to be part of muhollah programmes or generic ‘art schools’ imparting their dose of song-dance-recitation classes. Whether children take up any of the forms later, professionally, is not important to the families. What is essential is a holistic education that balances between scholastic, formal school lessons and a larger, more beneficial, scheme of activities vaguely termed as ‘extra-curricular’. I believe it helps children derive a world view not driven by a singular priority. Gladly, I was encouraged to go down the same route by both parents, especially my mother who remains exceedingly fond of Ranbindrasangeet. Though she was never professionally trained, apart from a small stint under an exponent called Sudhir Chandran who is quite a well-known name in Bengali circle within the NCR, she has continued to be a part of programmes out of her own initiative. She formed a group of her own—Geetanjali—eventually. Interestingly, she always wanted to be a professional dancer more than a singer. A few generations ago, women from ‘respectable’ families did not become performing artists, especially a dancer, thus her aspiration was nipped at the bud. Fortunately, by the time I grew up, the taboo was well broken, least to a large extent. Some affairs are love at first sight, some are not. When I was around five my formal training in Kathak began. After a few days I put my foot down and refused to learn. As my teacher would arrive during what I considered to be my play time! Those precious hours after school and before I had to sit down for home work. So the affair ended then. But the love for performance was instilled so deep that it never truly went away. In between I started to perform in presence of my family—my siblings, cousins and friends would put up shows for family during (Durga) pooja holidays. We were encouraged to plan, direct and perform skits, plays or pantomimes. And in between there was also a small stint in which I learnt Kuchipudi which I also enjoyed immensely. My turning point came when I was 12. I saw a magical performance by a maestro, the Late Durgalalji. He was such a master that he managed to capture the heart and imagination of a 12-year-old. Soon, he became my Guruji. That was perhaps the most fateful things to happen to me—the fact that I met the man who was so strict and yet full of love for his students, so dedicated to his art. On a day, when he could not conduct the classes personally, he would call me over the phone and ask me to perform. He could judge whether I had practised by hearing the sounds of my feet and ghungroo. I was humbled and terrified by his presence. And he instilled a deep love for Kathak which helped me to manage formal education and rigorous practise (often performing on stage) till I was a postgraduate. All along, my father remained my strongest and most silent supporter. He held some of the most important and busy portfolios for the Central Government and now he is the President of the nation. To me, he is a liberal father, one who has been encouraging all of us in whichever way he could. He was a terribly busy man and barely got to see me perform, but recently, he sat through an entire show. Post performance, he caught me by surprise with his intuitive analysis of each aspect of the show, Rainstorm and Autumn Leaves. It was inspired by a poem by Ranbindranath Tagore which in turn was inspired by Shelley’s Ode to the West Wind. For music I had used Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. In one part of the performance, I had draped a dancer in black cloth to convey a certain tension and conflict. My father felt that was “too vague”. Even if we are not on the same page as far as our interpretations of dance are concerned, I am infinitely glad that when he is there, he pays me his whole attention. But I digress. I started to perform in my Guruji’s troupe, one-and-a-half years after I started under his tutelage. But they were group performances where I would have a small space within the background dancers. My first solo happened when I was in Class XII. In a single word my practise was intensive. As I said before, the days he was not there, he would call me up over the telephone to hear the sounds of the ghungroo. When he taught me, he was so immersed in it, that my mother had to intervene at times and beg him to let me go so that I could finish my homework. I am endlessly thankful that I got him as my Guru. His untimely death in the early 1990s was a blow to me. It was always a task to balance studying and practising dance. I remember the only time when my father intervened was when I was about to sit for my final board examinations. Around that time I was also performing with Guruji’s troupe. My father called me to his room one day and quietly told me that he would pull no favours to “get me anywhere” if I did badly in the final tests. At the same time he praised me for my dedication to dance. That pinched my ego—that he could even think that I would seek his help. I pulled up my socks and dived into studies for those final months. I continued with my formal education till my postgraduation. I completed my Master’s in sociology from Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU). It makes me strangely content to state that my admission into St Stephens and to JNU was based entirely on merit. And I know that my father derives a lot of pleasure from that as well. Whatever little time that he would spend with us, it would be quality time. That is how he is. My mother, on the other hand, has been a pillar of support. We have performed together. By that I mean that we have been part of the same programme. It is difficult to dance to Ranbindrasangeet and it is to sing for a form like Kathak. There are some words that come to my mind when I think of the love of my life; speed, rigour, grace, elegance, abstraction and a climatic language through movement. The abstractness in the form lends it a fluidity which makes it open to all sorts of experimentation and interpretation. Recently, a friend, who is also a well-known musician, and I, were talking about our life and art, and he remarked about how the feet and the ghungroo cannot be heard individually all the time. That lent the idea of the experimentation I did using different forms of ghungroo. As is with all artists, dancers too are struck by ideas at all times. Because all artistes, live and breathe their art if they are truly dedicated. It is that dedication that sometimes helps us to continue despite the long hours, the strenuous practise, the lack of respect and adulation. People ask me whether I grudge the obsession of the Indian populace with popular culture. Well no. It would be childish to even expect that the two can be comparable. Pavarotti was a genius, but he could never become a Michael Jackson. In fact the two were content being in their individual sets and having their share of fans. Both popular culture (by which I believe people are usually referring to Bollywood and the increasing ‘Bollywoodisation’ of art) and Indian Classical Art have their audience, the latter a smaller subset, a niche. Indian Classical Art will never become a popular set, perhaps. But artists would rather settle for a small but attentive audience, rather than a large group of distracted individuals. Having said that, it does hurt a bit when organisers call us and do not have the decency to clean up the stage or leave it in a state that is safe for dancers. But the show goes on. As we owe it to the audience and to our art. Especially, to our art.
Would you believe it if I tell you that I always wanted to be an astrophysicist? Those marvellous minds get to travel across the Universe, galaxies, time zones, and through worm holes, thanks to the powerful faculty of their minds. What a cheap way to travel and what lucky people! Unfortunately, I have blundered through mathematics all throughout my life and probably would never had become an astrophysicist—but there are no limits to dreaming, is there?
Acknowledging highland systems of governanceON RECENT VISIT to Nagaland, a place that conjures up all sorts of disturbing stereotypes among many of us “plains people” of northern India, I had a number of humbling and clarifying moments. The beauty of this region was breathtaking. I was also moved by the nuanced ways in which the people had evolved their insightful institutions to preserve and harness their land, natural resources, and cultural heritage. It is clear that the Naga people, made-up of over a dozen ethnic groups described as “tribes”, have historically managed their affairs through processes suited to their environment and cultural roots. And they have done this while negotiating the machinations of a post-colonial government that has failed to evolve a framework for accommodating the cultural complexity of the Northeastern states. Of all I experienced during my stay in Nagaland, perhaps the most striking was the disconnect between the formal institutions of governance created by the Indian government from the 1950s onwards on the one hand, and those that continue to animate the lives of Naga communities in their day-to-day affairs. The former, which include governmental ministries, civil servants in their ever-proliferating departments, and now the burgeoning manifestations of “public-private partnerships,” seem to have no meaningful relationship with the Naga village councils, the deliberations that animate the “hohos” (village assembly halls), and networks of largely Baptist churches that hold sway over communities. There may be alliances between these institutions here and there, but there is little sustained overlap. This disconnect, between the formal legislative and developmental apparatus, and the popular institutions of politics, begs a fundamental question: In whom do the people of Nagaland (and dare I ask, all those who have historically been placed at the topographical and ethnic margins of mainstream democracy) place political legitimacy? My recent travels to India’s Northeast, and soon thereafter, Uttarakhand and Himachal Pradesh have amplified this troubling question. As with the larger history of capitalism, democracy is perhaps characterised by a core-periphery dynamic. In the Indian context, this dynamic plays out in terms of the fundamental hegemony of those ideas that emerge out of the plains, or the populous cities of the lowlands. The highlands, far away from the rough and tumble of mainstream politics, have usually been at the receiving end of the modern state’s developmental onslaught. It would not be a stretch to argue that Indian policy-makers have generally displayed a “plain-centric” bias, i.e., in which an understanding of the socioeconomic attributes of plains people has served as the basis for policies often applied universally, and damagingly, in the highlands. The standard justification for this has been framed demographically, i.e., that the largest populations are concentrated in the plains. This is a simplistic view, because it is apathetic to the cultural, ecological, and topographical realities shaping the lives of people living in the highlands. Worse, this bias is fundamentally tilted in favor of an urban, capital-intensive, and environmentally disruptive notion of progress. Nowhere is this asymmetry between the political imagination of the plains and the highlands more apparent than in the Northeast. For starters, the Northeastern States are very different from each other, leading one to question the foundational rational for the creation of a single “Ministry of Development of Northeastern Region” in 2001. The needs of a state like Nagaland, which has its own history of ethnic and political marginalisation from the time of Nehru’s visit to the region in 1953, are different from those of many other northeastern regions. But the gaze from New Delhi blurs this distinction. Within Nagaland, life in Kohima is radically different from that of the rest of the state; and this would be the case elsewhere in the States of northeastern India. In a similar vein, it is not a stretch to argue that Uttarakhand, with its 12-year long history of political autonomy from Uttar Pradesh, is learning how difficult it is to evolve meaningful developmental models when the prevailing discourses (shaped by the inertia in this region’s erstwhile capital Lucknow, and now New Delhi) are based on their limited grasp of the complex relationship between the forests, hills, and people of this new state. Developmental initiatives like the MGNREGA, the Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan, or most recently, the UIDAI’s Adhaar card system (which is supposed to facilitate “direct benefits transfers”) pose unique challenges in the highlands not always appreciated by policy makers in the plains. Uttarkhand is learning this the hard way. In an important book published recently called The Art of Not Being Governed, Yale University’s James C. Scott argues that throughout the world, people living in the uplands have adopted lifestyles, livelihood strategies, and agricultural practices starkly different from those of the plains. More fundamentally, these communities have resisted the formal institutional apparatus of the modern state in remarkable and creative ways because they find it oppressive and impracticable for their needs. Though the book focuses on the countries of Southeast Asia, Scott’s chief concern is with the universal upland phenomenon of the “cultural refusal of lowland patterns,” those dictated by homogenising governmental structures. Intertwined with his description of state avoidance by hill people, Scott also outlines a fundamental critique of conventional notions of agriculture, state formation, and civilisation that, he argues, are largely irrelevant to those who inhabit the upper margins of the modern developmental state. A extrapolation of Scott’s analysis would be that village councils of Nagaland (or the “zumsas” of Sikkim, and other democratic formations in India’s northeastern higlands), which draw sustenance from the immediacy of grassroots engagement and communitarian values, remain vital and legitimate political arrangements for the tribal communities they serve. And with a grand total of one Member of Parliament from the entire state of Nagaland, the cognitive gap between this highland State and New Delhi is unlikely to change any time soon! This notwithstanding, it is gratifying to know that deliberative democracy continues to flourish at India’s margins, whether it does so at its centre or not.
Can you spot the celebrity worker in the office and use her to the firm’s advantage?Look around your workplace. Can you spot a celebrity in your midst? You know, that one employee who has tens of thousands of followers on twitter and as many fans on Facebook, many of who care a lot more about what the celebrity has to say on a daily basis than his own boss in office does? The kind who possibly even has a larger online following than your own brand? Thanks to easy access to social media, the celebrity employee—one with a great reputation apart from or in addition to your corporate brand—is a very real possibility in many workplaces, and how you engage with such social media rockstars inside the organisation may seriously impact how your business is viewed by the outside world. It’s really sometimes comes down to a generational mindset. A number of employees join the workforce with an existing social-media presence cultivated while in college, and that’s not something they are likely to abandon. So realise this first—their presence on social networks isn’t something you can quash or contain. Now more than ever, employees are increasingly working very hard at developing their personal brand, and it’s perfectly reasonable for them to defend this effort, especially since it’s quite probable that their following will last for longer than their job with you. Yet, peers can often view their social media presence as dereliction of their required work duties. Moreover, if the employee is seen as representing the company on twitter, the question arises—who owns the content posted or the followers acquired—the company or the employee? There’s also the concern that the employee could possibly inadvertently share confidential information, or equally dangerous, a controversial viewpoint which may be traced back to the employer in question, leading to a PR crisis. That’s not even to tread on the possibility of severely inflated egos, team friction (and inflated compensation expectations) as a by-product of the ‘stardom’, or the worst case—they may become a free agent and decide to leave the company for another job, hence taking his or her following along. But don’t get me wrong—there’s a world of good that can come out engaging such employees in a meaningful manner. Think about it, these folks are the eyes and ears out on the ground, and could be great for identifying leads that could be potential customers for your product or service. Being influencers themselves, they can help identify who the other influencers are in your space, and keep you clued into industry sentiment and insights. Encouraging them to align and associate with your vertical has its benefits too. One, customers get to connect with a real human face of your organisation, which can positively impact perceptions of your brand and your customer orientation. By virtue of them being well regarded experts in your domain, your organisation is seen as an employer of choice, lending many organisations some much needed credibility which they may have lacked previously. And who can deny that the media coverage from being quoted in industry pieces also brings positive exposure to the company. Right then, so how do you constructively channelise such employees? Clearly, there need to be social media guidelines in place, not only for these employees but the organisation at large. These could include when your employees should be posting, and how much of their day can be spent on social media with respect to their existing duties. Remember, building an engaged following online can be heady and addictive, so it’s important you make sure employee output can be measured and these employees are pulling their weight just like everyone else on the team. Of course, if there is an expectation for your celebrity employee to align their presence with yours, there are a couple of additional considerations you must keep in mind. First and foremost, be explicit about who owns what. For instance, let’s say you actively encourage an employee’s social media presence, then there may be issues later over who actually owns the community and the following that was cultivated. Ideally, this is the sort of thing you’d want to make clear early in the engagement, preferably before any work has begun, so you end up avoiding any conflicts later in the day. Also, be up front about what the expectations of the involvement are—where the two brands overlap and what can be done towards mutual benefit, if at all. More importantly, the messaging needs to be clear, to ensure you’re not saying different things, or even hindering your marketing efforts. And should a pay-related discussion occur—employees may expect a pay rise in return for access to their followers—focus the discussion on measurable results and outputs, and not just on access. Above all, engage more people in the social media conversations for your company. This way, if one person leaves you won’t lose an entire segment of your conversations. And as always, keep the lines of communication open and encourage employees to talk openly about their online profiles and their blogs or postings. At some level, both the management and the employee need each other, more than they often think they do!
Arun Shourie occupies a complicated space in the minds of millions. He is undoubtedly an editor par excellence, who stood up to the Emergency, exposed Bofors and had Chief Minister Antulay sacked. He is a defender of human rights who campaigned for 40,000 undertrials. He is a man of unquestionable financial honesty. It is precisely why when Shourie opens his mouth, people hear him out.There is however, a logic as to why, loved or loathed, it is difficult to ignore Shourie. Before “sting operations” became a bad word, in the 1970s and 1980s, Shourie was the man behind some of the journalism-defining exposes of India. When he was the executive editor in the Indian Express, Ashwini Sarin, an Express journalist, bought a Tribal woman for a few pieces of silver. Her name was Kamala and the story shook India to its core. Another scribe—Arun Sinha—investigated a series of incidents in Bihar jails where yet-to-be-convicted inmates had acid poured into their eyes or had their eyes poked by needles by lawmen. That was the series of Bhagalpur Blindings and Express carried a series of close-ups of the victims’ eyes to drive home the point. The two incidents were not exactly Shourie’s exposes, but were brought under the spotlight under his editorial stint. The man in question was directly involved in the uncovering of the Antolay Scam, he was a part of the Gundu Rao interview, he was actively involved in the defeat of the Defamation Bill (which came into the focus thanks to him). Shourie is known for his scathing criticism of Christianity and Islam, which has given him the label of being a right ideologue. It would have been easy to dismiss Shourie if he was just that. Shourie has also penned a series of texts examining his own religion and faith. Today, he occupies a complicated space. He is undoubtedly an editor par excellence, who stood up to the Emergency, exposed Bofors and had Chief Minister Antulay sacked. He is a man of unquestionable financial honesty. It is why when he opens his mouth and spews venom (he does it ever so often in guileless rage), people hear him out.
Back to the first idea—journalists and their overwhelming “information baggage”; despite labels (some spot-on, and others, exaggerated), Shourie willingly embraces one. Asked to choose between his avatars (a routine question that journalists are fond of, like the weight-and-blood pressure checks before medical examinations), he emphasises that he is first a “doting slave” to his son. And he is a dutiful husband, son and a son-in-law. Then, depending upon his stint as India’s activist-journalist, columnist, economist or politician, he accepts all labels and enjoys them. He calls his life a series of happy accidents and one trauma. The first of the happy accidents was being born, the second was meeting his wife through mutual aunts. The third was meeting Ramnath Goenka, who took him under his wings and into Indian Express. Goenka is someone who Shourie does not hesitate to call his “pillar”. His second pillar is the former BJP supremo, Atal Bihari Vajpayee. “I was with the Tata Administrative Services, the management cadre of Tata Group. That stint lasted for three months after which I received an offer from the World Bank (WB). I resigned from WB as I wished to be closer home and work on Indian problems, which the bank disallowed. I came back to India anyway. It was during the Emergency. Here, I met Congress President and Minister for Petroleum, Mr Dev Kant Barua who offered a post as an economic adviser. But a famous economist of those times, Mr Sukumar Chakraborty, thought my stint with WB had ‘watered’ my socialist sentiments. The only job opportunity I had, was lost due to what Chakraborty thought,” Shourie reminisces with a gentle chuckle. Thus a jobless, soon-to-be-poor Shourie packed his bags (yet again) and left “with great reluctance” with wife Anita for the US—the country they had quit months ago to be home. “It was a stroke of luck that I came to know JP Nayak, the member-secretary of ICSSR, who sent a message and asked me to write a proposal—any proposal. I wrote one and qualified for the Homi Bhaba Fellowship. Finally, I could come home. Both he and I knew why I was really back; to write pamphlets and articles against the Emergency. When the Emergency got over, I was again jobless. The days of Homi Bhaba Fellowship were also coming to an end. As luck would have it, I met Mr Goenka who told me after a meeting, ‘main Mulgaonkar-ko (S. Mulgaonkar, editor, Indian Express) bolunga tumhe koi achhasa naam (designation) dey de. Tum office aajao.” The Emergency turned out to be quite the tumultuous time for Shourie. “I had heard of him (Goenka). His paper had been taken over and he was still putting up a fight. Mr Radhakrishnan, who was at that time the secretary of the Gandhi Peace Foundation, had just come out of Tihar jail. I wanted to know about the condition of the inmates and went to meet him. He was a large man. While I was talking to him an elderly person entered the room. ‘Arre Fatty! How are you Fatty?” They both seemed to be on great terms. After a while, Radhakrishnan asked me if we knew each other. When we both shook our heads, Radhakrishnan seemed bemused. ‘Arrey bhaiyya! you were asking me about the man who is putting up a fight through his newspaper. This is that man. And Goenka this is your young man, Arun Shourie, who you were asking about’.” Mr Goenka allegedly said, “Kya Fatty ke pass baithe ho, tum office aajao.” During the same period Shourie was to meet his second pillar: Atal Bihari Vajpayee. “Mrs Gandhi declared her plans for an election on the evening of December 18, 1977. Immediately I was sent off to Patna to write JP’s (Jayaprakash Narayan) statements on the impending elections. There I met several leaders and sat down to write the manifesto of the Janta Party. And I met Atalji. during a brief meeting in which George Verghese and I were given the task of collating data.” Shourie’s later stint as the Member of the Rajya Sabha was equally serendipitous; it happened thanks to the then BJP President, Kushabhau Thackeray. “I received a call from Kushabhau one day. He introduced himself as Kushabhau, and I replied as ‘yes sir, how could I be of service?’ He repeated, ‘this is Kushabhau Thackeray’. I repeated myself. That’s when he finally introduced himself; this is Kushabhau Thackeray, the President of the BJP. I was such a small fry and had never spoken to him. I could not place him at first. Kushabhauji called me to the party office. I had to ask for direction and address (10, Ashoka Road). At the office, he said that my name was chosen by party people for a Rajya Sabha nomination. Would you like to join the party, he asked? I said yes, promptly.” As a young man, Shourie did not have a voter’s registration card also when he was made the offer.
While the politician Shourie is a veritable book of information, dates and names, it is the editor Shourie who is a delight for of his candid confessions. “I fitted in with Mr Goenka and reporters and staff. I am afraid I can’t say the same about the editors,” he admits about his stint with a chuckle. “The reason I may not have gotten along with the editors was because of the way I wrote.” (A fact acknowledged by Vinod Mehta in his book Lucknow Boy in which he admits to not seeing eyeto- eye with Shourie on several occasions but admits that when the latter wrote, people read). “In those days certainly, there used to be a British inspired habit of making elliptical understatements (laughs). Surprisingly, at the end of the day, Mulgaokar—who was not so fond of me—was more supportive than many others,” says Shourie. Today, the former editor remains troubled by the relationship between the fourth estate and its subjects. “The sector is based on a completely incestuous relationship. Stories are not pursued, not enough. Look at the case of the 2G Scam. Not many newspapers took it up wholeheartedly. It was only Gopikrishnan (J. Gopikrishnan, editor, Pioneer) who, for two years, pursued the case with dedication. Dailies dismissed all of it as a corporate fight.” Another spot of bother: the increasing corporatisation of the media space which Shourie got to witness first-hand years ago. “Editors have been sidelined. A pioneering part was played by Sameer Jain, who was a reason why I quit TOI. It was no newspaper but became a sarkari system. His father was still around when a younger Sameer would come into the office. His attitude was that an editor and a bureau were incidental. He didn’t wish to see political news on the front page. He questioned why an Oped page was being placed right in the middle of the newspaper. He created a situation. Unfortunately, other papers began to follow suit. There were editors who succumbed to him; he would call them to his office to fill up birthday cards. Many answered to his fancies.”
Though on most part Shourie is like the favourite uncle who indulges the blunderings of a newbie scribe, it is when he talks of politics that he becomes bit of the professor-meets-thehistorian. Dates and years are important, as are names. And he has a habit of dropping them, taking knowledge of it for granted. Flattering? Yes. Frightening? Yes. “It (Indian Parliamentary system) has become like a single-party rule. It is just a little drama staged for tomorrow’s headlines. Everyone knows that their time will come as well when they will get to wield the sword and get favours. The ruckus raised is for non-issues and silence is maintained for real ones,” he says after a while. Media and politics are circular themes for Shourie and he hops between the two during the conversation. “When you get the Assembly adjourned, who does it help? It helps a guilty person. Story comes out of a certain minister’s son landing in a spot of trouble over the question of unfair land acquisition. For two days, instead of discussing that issue, the Parliament remains adjourned over cartoons published 20 years ago. The argument is the inconvenience of the moment that you give as your great rationalisation for destroying and undermining a great institution that all sides give,” says Shourie with the glimpse of the fire-brand thinker who has not shied away from slamming the party that he belonged to. “This is not a democracy at all, it is disarray. I have often described it as such. For the past 20 years, I have written that viewing the Parliament is like watching a very elongated, slow funeral rites of an institution. Perhaps it is an Indian way of discarding a Parliamentary system in favour of a Presidential system. Look at the States. Is there a Parliamentary system in it? We have now come at a place where perhaps the Assembly system will be discarded in favour of a Presidential one. This adversarial politics—just a singular aspect of democratic politics—has been carried out to a farcical level. Whatever you say I would shout at it. I will block anything you say or do; that is not how Assemblies work. Can a country be run like this where two parties block each other citing each others’ example of who did what and when?” Ask Shourie and he will tell you that the “State of India is the dead hand. The society is more innovative and resilient, and the government should stop interfering so much in the day-to-day affairs. By society I do not mean the civil society in the sense that Kejriwal and gang are suggesting—they are just appropriating a name. I am talking of the society of India.” “People say that I am an elitist. To a certain extent they are right; I am a strong believer in elitism. When I say elitism I mean meritocracy. You can’t have high sciences being done by everyone. Governance can not be performed by the aam admi on the street. It is a fatal fallacy in this country to think that people (MPs) should be representative of the people. So when we say 30 per cent of the people are illiterate, should 30 per cent of the MPs be illiterate as well? People don’t read books, so MPs should not either? Governance requires specialisation and expertise. There is a wonderful phrase by (Thomas) Jefferson that governance is the job of the aristocracy of talent and virtue. Perhaps, this is the reason why I am against reservation. Yes, the marginalised should get all the help they deserve, but when the race starts everyone should be equal. My statements are no reflection on the innate capacity of the people. Half the jobs, promotions should be reserved? Not really.” Yet another space where Shourie believes in meritocracy is the Indian higher education. The talk soon reverts towards it. “I know that Kapil Sibal makes a great many announcements—both in higher education and telecommunications. He has quite a few good ideas. We should use ICT (information and communication technologies) to overcome the short come in higher education. There was a lecture that I had given in the IIT which was later compiled into a book (We Must Have No Price, Indian Express). In which I had argued the same. We are far from promoting meritocracy in the sector. It is one sector where Licence Quota Raj is being continued. The bogey of privatisation is being raised, actually the people who are shouting against privitisatisation are those who have set up institutes and colleges and are collecting capitation fees. They don’t want competition, higher standards. We must have the best companies set up private institutions. There should be a movement towards de-affiliation, especially as far as the IITs, IIMs and better colleges are concerned. Best institutions are not affiliated. They are known by their alumni. Best companies, committed to excellence should set it up—liberate themselves from the salary scale and bring in experts.” His other ideas involve a higher scale of remuneration for professors and teachers. “The question is not whether a professor needs it, but the fact that he deserves it. Universities should be encouraged to raise their own funds from the alumni. Not many people would be focused on a university as an alumni would, they are the secrets behind the success of the Ivy League Varsities in the States.” “We talk the talk of demographic dividend. The words are phrases. All of it depends on what we do; after all they can become a millstone. Parents spend money on higher education. And then when the youth is all educated, he or she does not have a job, because at the end of the day we need millions of jobs to make a success of the demographic dividend. If you create good opportunities in India, I know that people will come back to their country not for the salaries, but because he wishes to be home.”
Shourie has penned 26 books. He is in process of writing his latest one. As we spoke we sat in his expansive study. It was one of the prettiest room with innumerable shelves adorning most of the walls. An open terrace right at the front lent a perfect light. The total effect was serene and calm which fitted the languorous afternoon quite well. However, the talk mismatched the languid effect of the entire scene. Before the interview, I was politely informed that he was not going to talk about the BJP, because it “fatigues him”. And at the end of the interview, as he leant back on his armchair, he opened up about it as well. Truly we were not there to talk about party politics—we were there to talk to one of the most prolific authors and a Magasaysay-award winning editor. When I happened to share the prospect of a possible interview with the man who had redefined Indian journalism, I was asked to quiz him on “how he chooses his books’ titles”. Some of them happen to have really weak ones. However, most of them are staggeringly meticulous. They are like knives that prise open difficult areas of thought. His critics call his work structurally weak and that he fits “evidence to a preconceived thesis”. However, it is difficult to wave aside words that pour out of him. Especially when they come from deep within his heart. One such book; Does He Know A Mother’s Heart? comes from the deepest core of his heart. “I may have received the most heartfelt reactions to that book. People said they were moved to tears. That it must have been painful and cathartic for me at the same time. Honestly the two chapters which were about familial life were the quickest ones. I finished them in two days. They are details of our daily life. The difficult bit was when I sat down to write about Gandhiji, I am worshipper of Gandhiji, but I felt his faith in God was misdirected. That he tied himself in knots when he spoke about karma. I am also a worshipper of Ramkrishna Paramhansa. Their explanations, as far as I see, do not stand up to scrutiny. That for me was the painful part.” As far as family is concerned, there was no catharsis, because for Shourie that is his life. “There could have been difficulties if there was less love. Zareer Masani’s And All is Said about his divided home must have been difficult to write. In my case, mine was a tale of love. For Nigel Nikelson, writing about his father, may have been problematic. I faced no such conflict. What I wrote about were facts. None of us believe that what we were going through was in anyway a reflection or judgement on how we were.”
Read all you will of Shourie’s love for his son, nothing prepares you for a face-to-face interaction. The meeting between the father and his son is an overwhelming sight. It is overwhelming because there is no melodrama in it. Shourie is not embittered. He has not used organised religion or mellifluous words to make sense of what was offered to him. He does not want, need or accept your endorsement of him as a parent. He is happy to be a father—to be loved and love in return. Once Shourie’s wife (Anita) met with an accident as their Fiat rammed into a jeep that lost control. Soon after the accident, Anita started to feel sensations on the left half of her body. She was later diagnosed with Parkinson. Shourie was not always calm about that incident as is evident in Does He Know A Mother’s Heart? Today, he is resolute. “You want the Mehdi Hassan cassette beta?” Shourie, like only a parent sometimes can, reads Aditya’s gestures and nods. Aditya, or Adit as he is affectionately called, was once the “darling” of an extended family. Now the family has shrunk, but Adit remains at its core. Shourie’s interactions with his son reveals a side to this fire-brand man often accused of being “too controversial” in his political writings: it also makes one rethink the necessity of acknowledging any other aspect than the tender and infinitely gentle love that you get to see.
I GREW UP in a joint family surrounded by siblings and cousins. It was a very liberal household with no discipline of any kind. Such was the case that when we needed money, we just took it, we never had to ask. Unlike other families, academics weren’t all that important in mine, but debates and elocutions were. Those who have grown up in joint families will know that it is a completely different experience; a joint family makes you tough, it makes you a survivor. It teaches you how to beat competition, especially if it is about grabbing hold of that last piece of momo. So my childhood was beautiful, spent is small and happy place— Gangtok, Sikkim. After finishing school, I left for the US, to do my graduation in Communications, and later joined The Village Voice as their marketing executive. The Village Voice at that time had become one of those papers which had a great past, but today, was clinging to its former glories. I was into advertising and as a part of the job I would be invited to a lot of parties, which was a fantastic thing for a 21 year old. Advertising, as we know it, is a numbers game; as long as you are getting them clients, they will be happy with you. Now it so happened that the person who’s cubical I took, was there in the company for a very long time. I had her phone and the calls kept coming. I didn’t really have to go out to get contracts. So life was wonderful. I would claim I had appointments and go see movies all day, or read at Barnes and Nobles. This went on for quite some time, but in the end such a life seems good for a while, but then you start questioning yourself. And that is why I quit, I found myself questioning every day, if this is what I would be doing when I was 35. I was looking into the mirror with self loathing. My decision to quit was very impulsive, but I had to take it. After quitting, I decided to travel a bit, see the world. I travelled across India with my college roommate. We started from Delhi, took the train to Bombay then to Goa, then we went to Calcutta, Darjeeling, Gangtok, Kathmandu and after that we went to Agra and then finally to Delhi, and then he left and I had nothing to do. One of the good things about the trip was that we were constantly writing, he was maintaining his blogs to stay in touch with his family and I was writing Facebook Notes. These were very irreverent tongue-and-cheek Facebook notes about my experiences in the different cities. You’d think that nobody would pay attention to such trivia, but surprisingly people liked my writing. The kind of support that came my way was really overwhelming. And I understand that it is Facebook, but the kind of people who praised my writing were the ones whose writings I had respected all my life. All these people said that I could chronicle my experiences and make them into a book. Well, while I did not pay much attention to these comments, the idea somehow had stuck by me. Soon after my roommate left I went to Manali, I didn’t want to go to Gangtok, because everyone there would be ready with a number of questions. In Manali I stayed at a very small place called the Raj Guesthouse, which cost `200 a day and did not provide hot water. I wrote my first short story there, called Let The Sleeping Dogs Lie. In Manali, the environment wasn’t exactly conducive for writing. There were quite a few Israeli people partying everywhere. When I went there I thought that I can never get any work done. But then, I think, I went into a zone and just wrote a very rough draft of the story. This was surprising because I am one of those writers who do not know how to zone out. I think I do know that when an inspiration strikes, I should not let it go. And that is what happened in Manali, I wrote for 17 hours a day. After struggling in Manali, I decided to head back to Gangtok where there was hot water, good food and the comfort of my room. While in Gangtok, I managed to write around four to five stories. My first story was based in Kalimpong, then there were a few based in Darjeeling. After writing the first few stories, I had made the decision of writing about Nepalese people everywhere and make the world aware about the Nepalese culture, which is beautiful. We all know how ignorant people are of the Northeast. When you open my book, you will notice that I have maps of places before every story. This is to make people aware that these places exist. I had gone to Nepal a few years back with my mother for Dasain (Dussera) festival. I had heard about the International Organisation for Migration building from people. There are camps in Nepal for the Bhutanese refugees, Bhutan has kicked out 10,6000 Nepalese people from the country. Because I was in Nepal, I decided to visit the place and carried a notebook with me. I spoke to the refugees and recorded their stories. Almost all of them had the same story. They spoke about the acres they had left behind to live in a dilapidated place. I knew I had a story in hand, and this one was more of a journalistic piece than any other I have ever written. When I wrote the first draft of this story it read like a research paper. I had to work really hard to make it look like a story. When I started writing this book, I knew nothing about the world of literature. I did not know that there was no market for short stories; I did not know who agents were or how things worked. In fact, in the beginning I was just penning down stories, the decision to compile them into a book came much later. And since then the journey has been serendipitous. I am a very lucky person. Know, however, that writing short stories was difficult and challenging. At a psychological level, the book had moments when I was just staring at the computer screen unable to write anything. Even if the strong urge to write was there, I knew I wasn’t writing what I wanted to. Initially, when such a thing happened, I would be troubled and would keep thinking about it. But then after a while, I started giving myself a break. I would read a book, watch mindless films, and then somehow after two or three weeks, I would get back. This is how I have finished the book. But like I said, I have been very lucky. To be honest, in India we have a habit of over embracing people. Look at Sunita Williams, she is not even Indian for God’s sake, but the amount of embracing she receives in India is overwhelming. Same has happened to me. But to think of it, while we are so appreciative of certain things, we have been extremely dismissive of so many other things. Take for instances, our own vernacular literature. I used to be fluent in Nepalese at one time, but now I can’t even write properly. Unfortunately, we belong to a generation that would be embarrassed to make a grammatical error in English but would brag about making one in Hindi. The colonial hangover is so ingrained in us that we have stopped paying heed to regional literature. But the fault also lies in the way the regional languages are being taught to us. In order to save these languages from dying, we need to remove the ‘chota Es and bada Es’ from the language, and make it a little simpler. Which would be the equivalent of not using a possessive before a gerund. We don’t say ‘my being there’ we say ‘me being there’. May be this way, the language will be able to connect with the younger generation. By now, I think I have made it pretty clear that I am a very indisciplined writer. And I do not deserve the praise that I have been getting; in fact I find it very intimidating. I have spent days thinking that after all this hype, if people don’t like what I have written, will they be like, “all this hype for nothing?” Thank heavens that the book’s got a good review and critics, have been generous. And I am grateful not just for the reviews, but also for the labels that have been given to me, such as the ‘next big thing in South Asian Fiction’. In all honesty, these are things that you feel smug about in private and feign embarrassment in public, but after a while you need to break away from such labels, before they start getting to you.
THERE ARE many words that may be used to describe Arun Shourie; erudite, articulate, verbose, and controversial. He is all that. However, he is so much more. During our interview with one of India’s most familiar journalist, we asked—who are you really? “A doting slave to my son,” came the answer in a soft voice and with a steady smile. Shourie has always taken his familial role as his cardinal one. He has been there for his ailing and aged parents, and later for his parents-in-law. Despite being one of the most high-profile politicians, economists and journalists of India, it is his familial side that touches your heart the most when you meet the man face-to-face. He has been very vocal about his son’s condition and his wife’s fight with Parkinson in interviews and self-written articles. His account of gradually accepting his and his family’s fate in Does He Know A Mother’s Heart? is heart wrenching—but Shourie neither seeks nor desires your sympathy. Read up all you might or see all his interviews, when you are faced with the man and see his infinite tenderness, affection and love, while interacting with his son, the truth in his admission of being a “slave” hits you. Of course, he is a slave—as most parents are. They are a slave to their child’s smiles and tears–their actions governed by what is best for a child. People reflect the best of humanity often when they become parents as does Shourie when he candidly talks about his life with his son and wife. Within Shourie remains an analyst’s heart. But the fire-brand personality is a more mellow today. He is deeply introspective, but seems more content sitting, reading and taking notes in his brown and cozy study. Being physically closer to his family seems important. It was interesting to talk to the man who changed journalism by being a part of the Indian Express. Read his interview on Page XX. And for the rest of the pages, see our wonderful adventures in the most haunted places in India and meet danseuse Sharmistha Mukherjee. The daughter of the President of India, Pranab Mukherjee, charmed us with her humility, humour and honesty. See how the nation’s most high-profile daughter feels about her father. Finally, a very good year to you. What’s on your DW wishlist? Do write to us and let us know.
Indian democracy failed in several ways this year, and the most affected were the bills they passed which should have reached the implementation stage but instead have reached a standstill. Probably FDI is the one thing that seems to be working, but if you look at the other bills like the Foreign University Bill, nothing has happened to it. There is no atmosphere of accountability. The number of people who were implicated in the various scams, nothing happened to them. They got caught and in a few days you saw that they were back to their work. This arrogance of certain people is going beyond any accountability. There is a certain amount of bankruptcy in the political scenario today. Is there anyone there who is sitting back thinking about what it is doing to the country? Such is the situation, that when I think about a sector that seems to be growing, I can't think of anything. As we look forward to taking a new turn in 2014, there seems to be a general feeling that the chaos will continue. And I wish there was one person in who I could see the future, one person who had the guts, the honesty, the vision and the ethics required to take this country forward. The names that have emerged in the current times are no good. I have got serious doubts about them. Nevertheless, I am still a die hard optimist, I still see hope. What we are doing at the moment is trying to rewrite the blueprint of medical healthcare in India. What we dream of is to end the fragmentation that exists in the society. In terms of healthcare, at least, each individual rich or poor, should get the same treatment. That is not happening at the moment, but we are working towards it. However, I must say what did encourage me this year was that Government tripled the healthcare budget. This is has given me tremendous hope.
The past year has been a mixed bag of highs and lows. The education sector has shown a lot of promise, more so in rural and semi-rural areas. Government and civil organisations have worked together seamlessly especially to educate the girls. Unfortunately, one cannot say the same about the health sector. We are seeing it deteriorate over the years. Growing up we visited local civil hospitals, which had good doctors and equipment to handle emergencies. Today the same health centres are in a far worse condition and people are forced to visit private practitioners. If our healthcare sector had kept up, today those civil hospitals should have been good enough for the rural population. What really alarms me is the rise of crime and abuse against women, the pressure to dilute section 498A. And instead of being on a decline, the past few years has seen a rise in female infanticide. And you have seen the problems of a skewed gender ratio. When it comes to a name that stands out for me for the future, I do not really believe that icons take a country forward. In a democratic world, it is the will largely shared by the majority of the population that takes a nation forward. If we fall into the trap of chasing an icon, then we become retrograde and pile all our hopes and desires on one person and expect him or her to fulfill it. Having said that, an idea that has worked well for the country is the Right to Information Act. Coupled with the Panchayati Raj, if the two can be matched together, it will pressurise the total representatives to work everywhere. To me democracy is about transparency and answerability.
I am an artist and I know nothing about politics. As far as my understanding of things goes, democracy by definition is of the people; it is about the voices of the masses. Truth be told, these voices are not being heard by the government of this country. Most people running our country are corrupt and have their own ulterior motives in joining politics. It won’t be incorrect to say, after seeing the number of scams that have happened in the past few years, that the common man has lost respect for politicians and has become confused about the future of the country. Everything is money-driven; ethics and values are mere words. When I think about the one particular sector that has shown progress in the past year, I can only think of ‘Money’ (to sum it up in one word). Commerce hasn’t suffered too much from the vagaries of fortune. On a completely different note, I thought Anna Hazare—before he went haywire—did show some spark and promise. We are a nation of billions, and we need to focus on all sectors equally, be they healthcare, education, law or the arts. But most important of them all is education, which is rooted to our country and its ethos. The second important area of focus should be conservation of nature and water. All this is achievable only if we have leaders who are honest, clean, committed and concerned about the people. When I think about the millions of scams this country has been witnessing I feel let down as a citizen. There was another personal tragedy where the artist in me felt let down. On the 1st of March, 2012, my steel sculpture was broken down in Bhilai, Chattisgarh, without my consent. Such an act is unacceptable. But if there were dark days, there were also celebratory moments. I felt really proud and happy when our sportspeople won medals in the London Olympics. Those were perhaps the best moments of the year.