SURE has transformed lives of several thousand rural women for the better by helping them understand the power of retail

Since then, Founder and Director of SSP, Prema Gopalan, has been involved in disaster rehabilitation projects and in building the capacities of rural women’s collectives to access and manage resources, so that they can participate in the decision-making processes that affect the location and management of resources.

SSP’s journey so far has been impressive— it has built and strengthened a network of federations linking women’s self help groups (SHGs) of more than 80,000 members to increase their access to microfinance and sustainable livelihood, health services, water and sanitation and delivery of relevant products and services in health, food and nutrition, renewable energy, etc.

Sakhi Unique Rural Enterprise (SURE) was started as a co-creation effort between SSP and BP Energy to prototype a clean fuel cook stove. Its mission is to enable sustainable community development by empowering women as leaders and entrepreneurs, through social enterprises and initiatives that offer a range of skill-building, livelihoods, agriculture and health-enhancing opportunities to rural women, youth and communities at large. An offshoot of SSP, SURE, formed in 2009, has an incredible growth story to recount. “With the objective of providing entrepreneurship to rural women, our journey has been quite challenging. We, at SURE, are dealing with many challenges including women empowerment, rural development and marketing clean green products,” says Upamanyu Patel, Team Leader, Rural Marketing and Network Programs, SURE.

SURE, which operates on the principle that change has to arise from within has transformed the lives of several thousand rural women by helping them understand the power of retail.

“Our journey started almost two decades ago post the Latur earthquake. SSP initiated rehabilitation and construction through women SHGs. It created SHGs across Maharashtra and provided masonry and community development training to SHG leaders,” Patel says. Today, SSP operates in 13 of the most disaster-prone, climate-threatened and economically challenged districts like Vidarbha in Maharashtra, and others in Gujarat, Tamil Nadu and Bihar.

“Over the years, the grassroots women leaders approached SSP for acquiring entrepreneurship skills as they wished to economically empower themselves to make a difference to their households and community at large,” Patel informs.

As SSP’s origin was in the reconstruction and rehabilitation of Latur in Maharashtra, it provided a number of significant lessons that have since been applied to develop a model for disaster management and reconstruction across the country and abroad.

Working closely with the women at the grassroots, SSP learnt that empowering women folk and communities helped the local people recover and get back on their feet faster. When women were taught business and entrepreneurial skills, they were able to improve their livelihoods, and gained confidence and resilience.

“From 2006 to 2009, SSP’s clean fuel and advanced cook stove business impacted more than 70,000 families by reducing indoor air pollution and fuel savings of `1 crore (US$ 159464.2) month on month,” says Patel.

“By helping the women set up their own retail business dealing in energy-efficient products, not only are they made more selfsufficient, their lifestyle is also altered for the better,” says Patel.

In 2009, marketing efforts were consolidated on the multiple retailing platform, SURE. “The network and portfolio was widened to include water, energy and agriculture products that could create an impact on the health and wellbeing of over 5,00,000 consumers,” Patel explains.

Today, SURE has 15 full-time teams of 500 women entrepreneurs in eight districts in Maharashtra and Bihar. “Apart from increasing rural community income, we also create community awareness, investments, and deal with large corporate houses. While promoting clean and green products, we also promote tree plantation, focus on girls’ education, health insurance etc.,” says Patel.

“Over the years SURE has built longstanding strategic partnerships with leading companies in the sector for prototyping and producing clean and green products for the rural bottom of the pyramid (BoP) markets. We also support such companies in cutting down distribution costs and reaching the BoP market in an effective manner,” says Patel.

SURE has partnered with SSP to scale up its network model to add 1,000 women entrepreneurs in the clean and green products sector in Maharashtra and Bihar. Over the next three years SURE will partner with private sector product developers and financial institutions (FIs) to ensure ecosystem support to women entrepreneurs, while SSP will train women in networking and create public awareness on clean and green products.

The endeavour is also to constantly improve the product offering by partnering with innovative product companies. “We have partnered with leading corporates like Godrej – and prototyped Chotukool, First Energy (Erstwhile BP Energy) – Oorja Cookstoves, Biolite – Smokeless cook-stoves, etc.,” informs Patel. SURE is also planning to partner with leading organisations like First Energy and Eureka Forbes to enable micro pelletisers and water purification plants owned and operated by Sakhis (women entrepreneurs). SURE is now looking at creating clean energy hubs to be located near a central market area or municipality office where larger community footfall can be ensured.

SSP has moved steadily forward with its legion of Sakhis building, stregthening and expanding its base.

An expose of Japanese internment camps post the Pearl Harbour bombing in the USA

THE EXECUTIVE Order 9066 signed by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt on February 19, 1942, which took away the rights of 120,000 Japanese Americans and condemned them to life in internment camps remains a blot on the collective conscience of America. Once in a while, this worm called conscience wriggles in sleep and all that America values—justice, liberty, equality—is exposed, belly up, for the world to see.

America’s double standards have been questioned time and again by the thinking public, its acts of omission and commission held up for microscopic scrutiny followed by public outcries. However, at certain times it seems the people of America and their governments speak in a single voice. For example, during the recent diplomatic row over Devyani Khobragade episode, the vocal US media was found pussyfooting around the issue. Lindely’s pre-World War II America is a similar one. United by war hysteria of Pearl Harbour bombing, the Americans are also one in their visceral hatred of all things Japanese. “Half-half” Satomi Baker, the half American, half Japanese protagonist of the novel, is forever trying to locate the logic behind the blind spot of this bourgeois mentality. A highly intellectual being herself, she just cannot fathom the reasons for their brutish injustices. Lindley’s research led her to a serendipitous discovery of this dark chapter in America’s ‘white’ history. This led to the writing of the story of Satomi Baker and the exposition of the Japanese internment camps. For today’s generation, this piece of history would be shocking. However, it is a well documented chapter.

Lindley’s sketch of small town America is depicted painstakingly in Angelina, California, the home town of the Bakers. She is brilliant in the details and it seems as though Angelina and its people are being seen in 3D technicolour. You feel the oppressive heat with Satomi, hear the thunder, feel the first drop of rain, the stares of the people, you see through her eyes her parents framed forever in candle light as they undress to make love. The Manzanar camp where the Japanese community is interned is again painted in barren colours of despair and devastation. You duck down with residents to escape the worst of the swirling duststorms, can barely prevent yourself from retching at the description of the community latrines in monsoon and the infestation of the roaches, tremble with them at their fear and laugh at their half-hearted jokes. Yet, the warmth of inmates like Eriko and Tamura warms the heart at humanity’s dignified strength. Caged like animals and fettered with barbed wires, Manzanar residents are patrolled by armed guards round the clock. But America is not dead. There are Americans like guard Lawson who find some reprieve in the act of giving to the camp inmates and there is Dr Harper who is collecting evidence of the extremities to use as an indictment against America at an opportune time.

Satomi Baker’s personal journey of discovery of identity is paralleled in her relationship with her nativity. Hers is an existential dilemma than an identity crisis. She knows her parentage—an all American father and a Japanese mother. It is an intellectual crisis. She revolts against what she perceives as the bulldozing male domination of her father (America) and the unquestioning acquiescence of her mother (Japan). Japanese girls are taught to be obedient, her mother Tamura often tells her; like Tamura is to Aaron. Both her parents have forsaken their families to be together and Satomi often feels like the invisible third wheel.

Lindely’s exploration of Satomi’s emotional and sexual growth is a letdown. The reader is left wondering as to what Satomi exactly wants. Lindley leaves Satomi a teenaged widow at a seaside cottage with a young orphan she had promised to take care of at Manzanar. If we are to take her existential dilemma as a metaphor for the battle of supremacy between her American and Japanese roots, it would seem Lindley means Satomi to emerge as a symbol of liberty, justice and equality on a mission to right the wrongs done to the Japanese by the Americans. Yet in this avatar, she is neither American nor Japanese but Japanese-American—an American with a new identity.

A bold look at India’s corrupt PSU culture vis-à-vis Air India

THE DESCENT OF INDIA into political sycophancy was complete in Air India. But that a foreign-based publisher like Bloomsbury should toe the line and withdraw a book on the monolith, that too in its second edition, is perhaps unprecedented in publishing history. The book in question, The Descent of Air India by Jitender Bhargava, is an insider’s account of the plague that has been eating at the entrails of this giant PSU. It’s another matter though that the book has already been read by the public and has acted as a stamp of authority on what they had known all along.

Bhargava, a former executive director of Air India for 13 years, has pointed out the ills that tolled the death knell for most PSUs—unionism, political interference, executive supineness, failure to take action and stay relevant in the changing business dynamics, among other things.

The fall of the Maharaja has been quite dramatic. From being a near monopoly to being reduced to a loss making entity competing with low-cost carriers, its decimation has been complete. Bhargava exposes the systemic rot that set in the 1970s and the stink of which started spreading in the 1990s. He blames the airline’s nosedive into self-destruction on the lack of vision displayed by the government and its successive bosses, employees, babus and the India Inc heads who graced as voiceless independent board members.

Undeniably, Air India failed to embrace the changing market economy of opening skies. As Bhargava outlines, while boards were formed and bureaucrat puppet CMDs with limited or no vision were brought to helm it, the need of the hour was for professionals with the sky as their vision. Basically, Air India failed to transit into a corporate culture remaining stuck in the bureaucratic red tape regime and that proved to be its undoing.

Air India had too many things going downhill, including an ill-conceived merger with Indian Airlines, purchase of overpriced Boeings, etc. Its employees and unions only gave it a further shove. Employees had little pride in the Maharaja who had become the handmaiden of the political classes. From VIP reservations in flights to ground jobs, Air India was a caged bird. Assured of permanent jobs, the staff could afford to play their own power games. The Maharaja was but a pawn. Despite its failings, The Descent is a bold book and Bhargava’s audacity in exposing the corruption in high places must be appreciated. Of course, he is not absolved of the blame as he has been part of the process for many years. He does try to show that he took corrective measures to stem the rot in his own way. It is a sad commentary then on the moral fabric of the nation that instead of booking the bad, we ‘ban’ the book.

Come to Bali to connect with its vibrant culture

Quick: what are the Hindu countries of the world? Everyone would say India; some would say Nepal, but Bali, the almost perfectly round island in the Indonesian archipelago would be left out. After spending almost two weeks there, I myself would not have connected Bali with Hinduism—it is certainly not our brand of the religion. And the Balinese and Indians are creatures of different planets—not much similarity there either.

Tourism in Bali has developed around the beaches in the south of the island. That is where capital Denpasar is. The one friend I had in Bali, Asha, lived in Denpasar. Like in Goa—with which, by the way, Bali has irresistible parallels—each beach has a markedly different character and appeals to a specific set of tourists. Nusa Dua is where all the large, fancy hotels are, with the most sedate bunch of tourists. A hotelier I met told me that Nusa Dua caters to tourists of a certain age and it could well be true because compared to Kuta with its young visitors, or Seminyak, Batu Belig and Legian, Nusa Dua is as quiet as a beach in South Goa. Kuta is like Calangute and Seminyak is like one of the beaches of the extreme north of Goa—you get a sense of the original culture plus the overlay of tourism. Tanjung Benoa is a bit like Candolim, with plenty of water sports, though on a far more advanced level. A few beaches are said to be ideal for diving too. All beaches are united by one factor: spas. Spas are very big business in Bali, and Balinese massage is as distinctive as, say, Thai massage. You cannot visit Bali and not go to a beach any more than you can return without a single visit to a spa.

There are literally dozens of beaches with rough sand, black sand, rocks, seaweed—but lying on the beach comatose all day long isn’t my idea of the ideal holiday, and because Bali does indeed have a unique culture, I was happiest in the village of Ubud. Have you read Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Love, Pray? Of course you have. Her description of Bali matches the place with a precision that I have rarely come across in books. There really is a sense of magic in the air in Ubud. It really does feel that spirits of long-dead ancestors inhabit the rice paddies and linger in the temples.

Even on the pavements outside hair-dressing salons that dot Ubud and restaurants and tattoo parlours, there are dainty baskets made of leaves, in which orange and purple flowers nestle for the whole day, as offerings to the gods. My friend Asha told me that every girl in Bali knew how to make the baskets. It was something like rangoli in India, but that was one of the few parallels with Hinduism in India and Bali. The temples were masterpieces of architecture and artistry and I never did come across any new temple with unattractive architecture. In the hotel that I stayed in at Nusa Dua, the garden had a prototype of a temple as its main feature. Every single guest stood patiently in line to be photographed there. The hotel was owned by a businessman from Jakarta—a Muslim. I thought it was a nice nod to religious tolerance, but nobody else seemed to think that it meant anything. It was just the way things were done in Bali. That in itself said a lot.

As in Thailand, a number of foreigners have made Bali their home. Many have set up businesses, particularly in the restaurant and the handicraft trade. There are simply too many examples to give, but in general, restaurants serving western food in open air settings with great views are the preserve of the expat community. One exception is the latest hotspot, Merah Putih, owned by a local, is not open air—it has been created in a glass dome to enjoy the view without exposing yourself to the elements. The food is Balinese albeit with imported ingredients and it has catapulted itself to fame in the same way that Warrung Madde became popular a decade back. Warrungs are food shops, but in the case of Bali, they serve cooked food. No chafing dishes here—food is eaten at room temperature. All you do is point to the dishes you’d like on your plate and they’ll be served. Rice is the staple, tempeh—fermented soybean that forms a cake after being processed—enjoys a position that dal does in Indian cuisine, and a variety of vegetables, meat and fish bring up the rear. It is a homely cuisine all right, with approximately the same proportion of staple to vegetable to meats as an Indian thali would have. You could call it Hindu cuisine, except for two factors that I found hugely interesting. The first is that there is no vegetarianism in Bali. The second is that duck is the meat of choice. “Ducks are very clean birds” I was to hear over and over. “They strain their food with their bills”. It is almost as if ducks are the Brahmins of the aquatic world.

Asha took me to one Balinese-owned duck restaurant in Ubud that overlooked the paddy fields and one that was owned by an Australian lady and her Balinese husband: Bebek Bengil translates as dirty duck, Ozzie humour firmly in place!

On my last evening in Bali, Asha, her husband and the entire clan took me to Jimbaran Beach. The meal we had was traditional Balinese dhaba meets beach shack in a rickety row of shacks that seemed to have been built entirely of tarpaulin. Outside, rows of chairs and tables had been set out in neat rows. You ordered your seafood and the rest—rice, waterspinach in a fiery chilli sauce, etc.,—came free. The meal was divine: you really cannot go wrong with just-caught seafood grilled on charcoal after being hastily smeared with spices. But the magic that I saw sent a chill down my spine.

Black clouds were boiling up on the horizon over the sea and it was a given that not only was rain imminent but we were looking at a thunderstorm. It was 6 in the evening and dinner-time for the fisherfolk of Jimbaran is when the day’s money is made. One of the stall-owning ladies walked up to the shoreline with a bunch of agarbattis and waved her hands around in imaginary circles. Smoke from the agarbattis blew away in the fierce wind that had built up. Then she stuck the bunch into the sand and walked away. Asha turned to me and whispered excitedly “Now see what will happen!” In a few minutes, the clouds vanished and the weather turned bright again. And the simple fisherfolk of Jimbaran did a roaring trade of grilled lobster and rice with vegetables, even as jets gracefully took off in the airport that is within sight of the beach. Stopping the rain with agarbattis and prayers. Who would have thought!

An encounter with a danseuse with a difference

T here was point in time when the waif-like Arushi Mudgal wanted to ride away on a cherry-coloured Scooty and be a pizza delivery woman. Then, there was the time when she wanted to study hotel management and be “any where but here”. The “here” refers to the oldest music school in Delhi—Gandharva Mahavidyalaya—established in 1939 by Pandit Vinaychandra Maudgalaya, disciple of Pandit Vinayakrao Patwardhan, an exponent from Gwalior Gharana. Today, it is headed by noted Hindustani classical singer, Pandit Madhup Mudgal, Mudgal's father.

Growing up within the Mahavidyalaya campus there was a time when the young danseuse and Odissi exponent wanted to see the world beyond. “My grandfather was a musicologist. My grandmother taught at the school. My father is the current principal. My mother is also involved here. My Guru is also my aunt Madhaviji (Padma Shri awardee and the only Indian to have performed with choreographer person would understand, on the other, her dedication to the art and craft is one that her seniors would approve. Mudgal has her feet on two worlds and she straddles both with style. She knows how to use her youthfulness to connect with the younger disciples and audience of her Guru. So, we had to ask, was there a time when the confidence was not thus apparent? “Both my sister and I have trained under most of the teachers of this school. We have attended most classes that other pupils go to. My grandmother, mother and father all taught me music, but that was something I did because it was fun. But dancing was a bit more—even as a child I used to need to dance. I do not remember my first stage performance. My love for performance made me unafraid and by the time I realised my unbelievable fortune (she performed with Guru Kelucharan Mohapatra and Madhavi Mudgal when she was 13 years), I was too immersed into this life to be afraid. I guess when there's a strong passion, there is little space for insecurities. Yes, I get nervous before my performances but once the performance starts, the joy of it is all-consuming,” she says. In between she also snaps her fingers to emphasise her words and puts in words like “stuff”. When I point out this obviously young energy, she breaks into infectious laughter and says “What must you think of me”. Well, I am charmed by her demeanour to say the least. “I understand what is expected out of me. I realise the legacy. At the end of the day it is about the process, the dance, the form, the discipline, the depth of it. Pressure and insecurities are all superficial things,” she says after pondering a little. Even as a child she was mesmerised by the rhythmic aspect of the dance. That, and the grace (lasya) of the form. She likes to combine the two in her choreographies. These two are the most essential aspects of the form that keeps her most engaged. “It is a fine blend of lasya, a very flowing form, and then there’s the strong foot work.” When you talk to the daughter of Madhup Mudgal, one cannot help but think of her future—is there a possibility that we will see her become the third generation mentor? “I would think it to be strange if people thought of themselves as ‘mentors’ or that eventually they would become one. No one plans it I think. Everything happens gradually and it happens when the time is right. I never thought that I would be teaching a class but then I did for the time when I could find the time. I like the mysterious future. I would like to see what it holds for me.” We have the feeling that the future only holds big things for this diminutive dancer—look no further than the string of performances that line up her 2014 calendar.

ON A MISTY Monday morning while the rest of the New Delhi citizens were digesting the news of President’s Rule which ended the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) and Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) stalemate, AAP’s Delhi office was vibrantly busy crunching statistics to analyse why the pre-poll opinions—that predicted a majority for AAP—was not realised. However, despite the ironic win (former Chief Minister Shiela Dixit had once asked, “Arvind Kejriwal, who?” in jest, she lost to him by a margin of 32,000 votes), AAP is not ready to rest on its laurels. When the BJP decided not to form the government, following which AAP leaders met Delhi Lieutenant-Governor Najeeb Jung and sought 10 days time during which time AAP held a series of referendums to know from the people whether or not they should form a minority government. And the public spoke, and finally AAP is ready to assume its place in the Delhi political scene.

However it seems that in this recent state results the biggest winner is democracy; voters have made onlookers question the adage of big fish eating small fish. In fact, Kejriwal’s win makes us question the concept of big and small. Often we are led to believe that big is a matter of financial and muscle power. Now, a party with the broom as its symbol has brushed all such ideas aside to show that power stems from clear conscience and honest intentions.

We spent a chunk of our time talking about the recently-concluded elections with the pioneer on our cover pages. (Retired) Justice Leila Seth was the first woman Judge in the Delhi High Court and the first woman to become a Chief Justice. Whether it was granting women equal property rights or overseeing IT Laws, she has always been led by integrity. That, she asserts, is the cornerstone for every profession.

As for the rest of the issue, there’s plenty more to whet your appetite—expect a surprise from Marryam Reshii. Do send in your wishes, aspirations, and hopes for the year. What changes do you wish to see in the magazine? What changes do you predict in this country that we call home? Have a happy new year everyone!

Justice Leila Seth talks about integrity, education and her life post retirement

It was without pronounced style, yet it was the most pleasing thing I have seen. In the garden there are chairs, a table, a wrought iron chaise-longue, a swing, a lily pond and scattered pots and tubs of green. We would spend a lot of time after the interview talking about the plants. She would break into Bengali to make me really understand (I had pointed to a small tree and called it a shrub). Her enthusiasm in pointing out plants is rivaled by her excitement when she talks about her grandchildren and education. In her still-graying bun, there is an yellow rose tucked in. Her frail face is deeply lined–it is a joyful face. It is an experience, meeting the first woman judge of an Indian High Court. After reading a few effusive testimonials, I was prepared to be dazzled. I was, by her temperate answers.

It is a truth universally known that former Justice Leila Seth took to law because of “mundane reasons”; the course did not require compulsory attendance. She was then a young mother (her first child being renowned author Vikram Seth), and though her first born was back home with his grandmother, Seth barely had time for a full-fledged course. So she bought a career encyclopedia, read it thoroughly and law seemed to be the way to go. The classes she opted for were held at Seven Stones, figuratively a stone’s throw from Lincoln Inn. Classes were optional and the course entailed its students to attend some “dinners” (yes, dinners). Her’s were to be “held” at the Lincoln’s Inn. Before law she had completed a Montessori training class but never got to teaching children, a decision which on the hindsight seems reasonable as it takes far too much patience to deal with young children. “I may not have had it (patience),” she says with an amused chuckle. Her father had promised to send her to university abroad but he died when she was barely 11 years of age, after she completed her graduation. Another restraint was the finances–what seems to be a lot of money in India, shrinks in England–“We were not really well off, so I had to choose carefully.”

One of the courses that Seth opted for was divorce law, its classes were held later in the evening. One fateful evening she stayed on and came back home later than usual to find a sulking husband. “It was the first time he had returned to an empty and dark home. He had to switch on the lights. Well, I never went for the divorce law classes after that, it could have led to a divorce,” Seth says with a laugh. In case you are thinking of passing a judgement here, Prem Seth (Premo for his wife) is a an example of a supportive and loving husband. During her later years, Prem Seth was often the inspiration behind her courage. “He was the one who would tell me I could do it even when there was an iota of self-doubt. He was the one who believed I was intelligent enough to take a new case or a course.”

“I am low on my own perception of what I am capable of. So, I expected to fail. My husband was more confident of my abilities. On the day of the results he went out, bought whiskey and two glasses to celebrate. We were supposed to come back to India soon after, so we went off to visit a few friends of Premo. In those days, results came out in the Time office and on our way home we headed there. Just before we reached the office, there was a traffic light. One of my classmates, Kazi spotted us. The moment he did so, he jumped on top of a car and we heard him shout stop, stop. What he was saying was ‘top, top’ that I had topped the examinations. Later, I remember, we went to a shop to buy some clothes and the gentleman there turned towards my husband and asked him, is your wife here a law student? When he said yes, he turned towards me and told me that he had seen me in the papers. It was the first time that a woman had topped the Bars.”

Seth returned to India soon after wards, specifically to Batanagar. Prem Seth was a Bata employee after all. Then the family moved to Calcutta and finally to New Delhi. In between there was a small Patna stint. However ever, both Seths understood that in order to establish a practice, Leila had to be established in a single city. Delhi was to be the choice. “Of course we did something foolish, we never bought a house. This (her home in Noida) happened much later. We were never inclined to pragmatic, materialistic ideas it seems,” she says straightening the an “unproofed” book and a newspaper on the table. “In the meantime, for a an year-and-an-half we travelled back and forth. I would visit him once and a month and he would come and visit me once a month. Afterward, he took a transfer to Faridabad.”

“All my career I was trying to establish that women could do everything. So I consciously stayed away from the women centric cases. I took criminal law, IT law and property law. When I became a judge a lot of women lawyers did have a pet gripe that I would never do ‘my bit’ for the women. How I see it is that I was a judge. My duty was to uphold law. Not just those which dealt exclusively with women. I did not wish to be known as the judge who dealt with women cases only because there is a tendency across the world to compartmentalise people. I did not wish to be put into a niche.”

One of the cases which Seth remembers vividly is one involving a railway driver. It was when she was a judge in the Patna High Court, and there were more people travelling on roofs of trains than as paid travellers. On one such journey, one train entered a tunnel resulting in the death of several (illegal) passengers on its roof. “Apparently when the passengers and onlookers shouted to the driver to stop the train he heard nothing. When I handled the case I talked to strangers and acquaintances alike asking them about engineering facts, if they had any idea about trains. I went to the library and read up about engines and how they functioned. At the end, it seemed that it was impossible to hear a noise or a shout or collective shouts over the din of a railway engine. So, the law acquitted the driver. I still remember his face and the fact that he continued to feed his family after the incident. Though I have forgotten his name, I have never forgotten his face or his gratitude.” From the multitude of cases that she dealt with as a judge, this one case seems to be clearest in her memory. Why?

Because it was such a basic one. And it is one for which she worked the hardest; because she was constantly reminded of the harsh reality that his family would not survive without him.

“It is in my nature to work hard. But I do not remember researching so much or so extensively, for any other case. The whole personal element of my involvement (the driver came to her begging for his family’s welfare) is etched in memory. It is not a very important legal case, but it is a most important human case.”

And in all her cases, what is that one thread of logic or principal that guides her work? “Integrity to work, to any principal, is important to me. Without integrity I believe that rest of the value system falls,” Seth says while taking a sip from her “drink”. A note here: do not be alarmed if you are offered a “drink” in the Seth household very early in the morning. The lady who makes the tea, refers to all beverages (hot or cold) as a “drink”. When a straight faced Leila Seth had asked whether I would like a “drink” at 11am, I had suspiciously peered into her cup. The steaming lemon honey tea seemed innocent enough.

A laughing Leila Seth explained that lemon honey tea is her favourite and what she likes to have in the evening with her husband who actually gets a drink then. So for the lady who serves both, the hot beverage is also a drink. While we enjoy the tea in winter sunshine, Seth also points out “its us on our 60th anniversary on your cup”. It is the same photograph of Prem and Leila Seth that we spotted in the living area along with two photographs of their grandchildren.

Always the retired judge, Seth recently quizzed her eldest grand kid about a situation where three characters—a flute maker, a boy without any means and a musician—lay claim to a flute. Who should get it, Seth had asked. Nandini apparently thought for a while before answering, it had to be the boy. The flute maker could make more. He knew his craft. The musician could play any flute because he knew his art. But the boy who had nothing, the possession of the flute could open up a new path.

The morale of this story? Children understand the concept of want, not having and wanting as clearly as adults.

Seth’s two grand children are currently in two residential schools. Formal education, rather holistic education, is a conscientious topic in the household. Seth has penned a children’s book explaining the Preamble and as the above example shows, she believes that brought up with the right ideology, the next generation of Indians would work even harder.

Her second son and daughter-in-law believe that education is too rote in India. The hunt is now on to get the “right” school. At the mention of her grandchildren the conversation veers towards parenting; is there a proper way to do it?

“My children were allowed to do what they wanted and the way they wanted to do it. I believe that a lot of parents believe that they can control what their children do or wish to do. I believe it to be untrue. I had a Bengali friend, who told me that if you keep an open palm and a bird sits on it to fly away again, then there is a possibility for the bird to come back. But if you close your palm and make the bird captive be sure that the bird will never come back again. My idea of relationships and especially with the children has been dictated by this vision. Children will do what they wish to do. Naturally, I have been worried about them especially there was a time when I was worried about Vikram (Seth). But Premo always believed that we should let him be. He told me that we as parents should have as much if not more faith in him.” Vikram Seth’s first book—A Suitable Boy—took seven years to shape up and in that time Seth family was famously described by one who knew them as of three “weird children”—one who wrote all the time, one who sat in a mud hut at the end of the garden and a girl who was always out. But the three “weird” ones are all grown up now—Shantum Seth is the foremost teacher to sites associated with the Buddha. A Buddhist practitioner, he is an ordained teacher (Dharmacharya) in the Zen tradition of a Vietnamese Master. Daughter Aradhana is a production designer, photographer, director and an installation artist. And Vikram Seth, well, I am hoping everyone has read one of his books.

As the talk again veers off towards child education and especially towards girls’ education (one of the three mugs on the table has a sketch of a girl headed to school, a mug that her daughter Aradhana finds ‘particularly silly’) she talks of how people in India are now fed up of doles. “India is full of people who aspire to be better. My driver took his child out of government school and put him in a private one. When I asked him his why, he said if the child stayed on in a government school he might grow up to be like his father. If he went to a private one then there’s a possibility he could grow up to be like you (Seth). We always wish to do better in life and we don’t—whatever people may think—want to take a short cut. Because hard work always pays. As I told my daughter, the reason why I love the cup so much is because it touches upon this topic of how a small gesture can go a long way. You give your daughters mobility and means to reach school and they will be educated.”

Talking about schools and bicycles, I recommend a film. Wadjda by Saudi Arabian film maker Director Haiffa Al-Mansour which is set to make waves as the first film to be made in Saudi Arabia, by a woman and to have won a nomination in the Oscars. “How did you see it?” Sheepishly I explain piracy. “Maybe it was illegal (most definitely it was).” I am greeted by a frown followed by laughter. At least for this crime, I am being let off the hook.

AAP Wins 28 Seats

POLLS// Just after three days of the Assembly Elections results, the formation of a new government in Delhi hung in balance, as both BJP and AAP failed to get adequate numbers and opted for re-election. Arvind Kejriwal’s AAP, which registered an emphatic win by winning 28 seats in the 70-member Delhi Assembly, said it was ready for re-poll, especially emphasising that in the re-poll it would contest the BJP only.

On December 23, 2013, AAP chief Arvind Kejriwal met Lieutenant Governor Najeeb Jung and staked a claim to form the next government in Delhi. “I have handed over the letter to the Lt. Governor stating that we are ready to form a government in Delhi,” Kejriwal told the press on that day. “As soon as the President orders it, the date for the oath ceremony will be fixed. The oath will be taken at Ram Lila Maidan,” he said. Television reports had earlier indicated that the oath-taking ceremony would happen on December 26. Kejriwal had earlier said that AAP has decided to form the Government in Delhi with Congress’ support. “We have got overwhelming participation of people during the public meetings. About 80 per cent of them have favoured that party should form the government,” he said. AAP leader Manish Sisodia said that out of 280 jan sabhas conducted by the party, in 257 sabhas, people wanted the party to form the government in New Delhi.

Supreme Court Ruling States

RULING// The Supreme Court on December 11, 2013, said homosexual sex between consenting adults remains a criminal offence, in a major setback for the largely closeted homosexual community in India. The top court said that the Delhi High court's 2009 order decriminalising homosexuality is constitutionally unsustainable. The Delhi High Court had decriminalised homosexuality while reading down Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code and ruled that sex between two consenting adults in private would not be an offence.

The high court order had been challenged by anti-gay rights activists, social and religious organisations. Senior BJP leader BP Singhal, who died last year, had challenged the verdict calling it illegal, immoral and against the ethos of Indian culture. Religious organisations such as the All India Muslim Personal Law Board, Utkal Christian Council and Apostolic Churches Alliance also filed appeals against that verdict. The Supreme Court had reserved its order in March last year, after day-to-day hearing in the case lasted an entire month. While hearing the appeal, the top court had pulled up the Centre for its "casual" approach in dealing with homosexuality and expressed concern over Parliament not discussing such issues and instead blaming the judiciary for its alleged overreach. During the arguments, the Centre told the top court that the anti-gay law in the country was a result of the British colonialism and that the Indian society was more tolerant towards homosexuality. It was a complete U-turn by the Centre which had strongly opposed the decriminalisation of homosexuality before the High Court, calling it “unnatural, immoral and reflection of a perverse mind”.

A light in darkness— Nelson Mandela

DEMISE// More than 80,000 are expected to attend the gathering for Nelson Mandela at the stadium in the Soweto township where he made his last public appearance at the closing ceremony of the 2010 football World Cup. The memorial is the latest event in a week of mourning for the anti-apartheid hero after his death on December.

He had been out of public life for more than a decade, but South Africans looked to his unassailable moral authority as a comforting constant in a time of uncertain social and economic change. On the eve of the memorial Nobel laureate Desmond Tutu described Mr Mandela as a “magician” who conjured a united nation out of a country teetering on the brink of civil war. In London, the Prime Minister, David Cameron was joined by his deputy Nick Clegg and Labour leader Ed Miliband as politicians of all stripes marked the death of the former South African president with a special session in the House of Commons. On December 10, 2013, South Africans crowded into churches, mosques, temples and synagogues to remember Mandela. In the Regina Mundi Catholic church in the once blacks-only township of Soweto, parish priest Sebastian Rossouw called Mandela “a light in the darkness” and praised his capacity for “humility and forgiveness”.

Inside the church, once used as a sanctuary by antiapartheid activists during police raids, a single candle illuminated a portrait of Mandela with a raised-fist salute. Since his death was announced late December 6, 2013, South Africans have been gathering outside the former President's home in Johannesburg to pay tribute to the man revered as the father of the country. Mr Mandela died at home at 9pm local time (7pm GMT) on Thursday night (December 5, 2013) after suffering from a lung infection. His death was announced shortly after on television by South Africa president Jacob Zuma.

Mr Mandela's wife, Graca Machel, and some of his three children, 17 grandchildren and 13 great-grandchildren were with him in his final days, with other family and friends in attendance. President Barack Obama led the world in mourning the South African leader's passing, who he described as "a man who took history in his hands and bent the arc of the moral universe towards justice". Prime Minister David Cameron also paid tribute to the former president, hailing him "a true global hero". In London, mourners have been laying flowers outside the country's High Commission in London.

The former president's body will most likely to taken to the Waterkloof Military Base in Pretoria, where it will be embalmed and prepared for public display.