Once there was an academic young man from a landed, gentried family of Ghazipur studying philosophy at Allahabad University. During his DPhil, the Second World War started. Overwhelmed by the war and moved by patriotism, the student abandoned his degree to enroll into the army. A few days later, a letter arrived at his ancestral home in... ...Ghazipur addressed to his father. Apart from the usual salutations, the letter stated that young man had accepted a position of a sepoy, and a salary of `18, in the army. His main chore was to rub down horses in the army stables. While an exasperated mother wept and wrote a long essay of a letter, his father wondered if the son, who had perhaps never entered the stable at his own home, would last long scrubbing horses. He did, and even managed to catch the attention of his Commanding Officer, a Colonel Ayub Khan. In fact, we should say, the Lieutenant Colonel Mohammed Ayub Khan. Colonel Khan was amused to notice that the young sepoy, a humble and diligent personnel, was a man of letters (he held a degree in law). As the war ended, Colonel Khan asked the young man to decide upon a “career”. As contemplated a return to university to take up the abandoned DPhil course, Colonel Khan saw it as a mistake and spoke instead to his young bride.
Albeit not formally educated, the woman knew that the army was to be her husband’s “right path” and she pursued him to stay on. And he stayed on, even enrolling in the army engineering college. Thus, the student of philosophy became an army officer and an engineer.
It is no wonder when Former Comptroller and Auditor General of India (CAG) Rai begins to talk about his life—its ethos and ethics—the mention of his father makes an appearance. His father is the young sepoy of our story. It is no surprise that ex-CAG, Vinod Rai, is an exceptional man, after all he is the son of a unique father. His parents raised him and his siblings with abundant love and discipline, add to that the formative years he spent at Birla Public School, Pilani, where “horse riding, trekking, swimming and tennis were equally a part of the syllabus and you see why I am the way I am”; a well-rounded education for an all-rounded personality that Rai is. He credits his unusual, adventurous father and pragmatic mother, as well as a holistic education, for driving him forward. But there is always that niggling point; despite the army legacy, why didn’t he enroll? Well, he did and was nearly in after passing the usual tests. However, with a father and a brother already a part of the army, it was time to do something else. “In those days, let’s just say that the options were limited and I joined in the civil services.”
After school, Rai attended Hindu College, University of Delhi, and the Delhi School of Economics where he was one of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s students. He was among the unusually successful 1972 batch of the IAS, alongside former Governor of the Reserve Bank of India D. Subbarao, Central Vigilance Commissioner Pradeep Kumar, former Agriculture Secretary T. Nanda Kumar, former Home Secretary G.K. Pillai, former Secretary of the Planning Commission Sudha Pillai, and current Electricity Regulator Pramod Deo.
SUPER-CYCLONE \\ The fiercest storm to hit India this century barrelled across the Bay of Bengal in this month. Cyclone Phailin slammed into Odisha and neighbouring Andhra Pradesh with winds gusting at more than 200kmph (125mph). Cyclone Pahilin hit the very same region which was hit by a Super Cyclone 14 years ago. In those days it had killed 10,000 people. But this time, the toll was low, at the latest count 21, thanks to the speedy response of the bureacracy, administration and especially Dr M. Mohapatra, heading the cyclone forecast division at the Indian Meteorological Department (IMD). Coastal India was saved the brunt of the super cyclone also because of this local mandarin who frantically worked to lead the charge in the rescue operation to move nearly a million people to safety. As a team he settled on districts that he predicted would be worst hit: Ganjam, Srikakulam, Puri and Kalingapatnam. Initial data after Phailin ripped through Odisha, West Bengal and Andhra Pradesh show that they were spot on.
“It (the 1999 one) was a super cyclone with a wind speed of more than 260kmph. This time it was only 210 kmph. In 1999, the storm surge (rise of waves on the shore) was 6m and this time it was just 3.5m. This time the cyclone hit a steep area. Paradip, with its port and major rivers such as Mahanadi, is a deltaic area. So the inundation was 35km. This time it was estimated at 600m. Also, now we have better technology which helps us issue early forecasts,” Mohapatra declared.
DEMISE \\ Credited with pioneering a new genre by infusing Indian classical music in a pop framework, music legend, singer and composer Manna Dey epitomised the golden period of Hindi cinema with his inimitable style and memorable songs like Puchho na kaise, Aye meri zoharajabi and Laga chunri mein daag. Along with Rafi, Mukesh, and Kishore Kumar, Dey was the last member of the famous quartet of singers who dominated the Hindi music industry from 1950s to 1970s.
In a career spanning over five decades, Dey, who died on October 25, 2013, in Bengaluru at the age of 94, went on to sing over 3,500 songs in Hindi, Bengali, Gujarati, Marathi, Malayalam, Kannada and Assamese films before quitting movies in the 1990s. His last song was Hamari hi mutthi mein for 1991 film Prahaar. While Rafi, Mukesh and Kishore were the favoured voices when it came to the lead actors, Dey stood out for his unique voice. Adept also at singing Rabindra Sangeet, the multi-talented legendary singer’s experimentation with western music and qawwali produced many unforgettable melodies. Dey, who had made Bengaluru his home for the past few years, started his career in playback singing with the film, Tamanna, in 1943. The musical score was set by his uncle Krishna Chandra Dey and he had to sing a duet with Suraiya. The song Sur na saje kiya gaon mein was an instant hit. In 1950, Mashal was the second film where Dey got the opportunity to sing a solo Upar gagan vishal, a melody created by Sachin Dev Burman. In 1952, Dey sang both for a Bengali and a Marathi film of the same name and storyline, Amar Bhupali, and established himself as a booming Bengali playback singer.
SCAM// A special Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) court on October 16, 2013, sentenced RJD chief and former Bihar Chief Minister Lalu Prasad to five years rigorous imprisonment in a 17-year-old fodder scam case, thus disqualifying him as MP. Former Chief Minister Jagannath Mishra and JD(U) MP Jagdish Sharma were both given four years rigorous imprisonment each. “In this case, two of the honourable members of Parliament, namely Dr Jagdish Sharma... and Sri Lalu Prasad have been convicted by the court for the offences under Prevention of Corruption Act as well as for criminal conspiracy... The CBI is directed to immediately inform the honourable Speaker of the Lok Sabha... regarding the conviction,” said the court. Sharma also stands to lose his Lok Sabha seat. Special Judge Pravas Kumar Singh also imposed fines of `25 lakh on Lalu Prasad, `5 lakh on Jagdish Sharma and `2 lakh on Jagannath Mishra. Prasad was convicted with 44 others on September 30.
“The availing of hospitality and pecuniary gains by these politicians and executives finally and decisively implicates them,” said the court in its 568-page order. “When corruption was sought to be eliminated from the polity, all possible stringent measures are to be adopted within the bounds of law. One such measure is to provide condign punishment,” said the judge. The defence argued that the accused have been suffering for the last 17 years, during which they have aged, and giving them long jail terms will be tantamount to capital punishment.
“...in criminal justice system, it may take years for final conclusion of the trial. It is true that the accused has suffered ordeals of the trial, but how can one forget the agony of the society and the public who was waiting for the result and the final outcome of the trial,” said the court.
A few days RJD into his jail sentence, Lalu Prasad faced security threats as he leads a life of comfort as a prisoner, Jharkhand Police has said. The special branch of Jharkhand Police has alerted the jail administration about Lalu Prasad’s security. “Lalu Prasad may face a security threat, and should be given adequate security in the jail,” an official of the special branch said, expressing concern. Lalu Prasad has been kept in the upper division of the jail, where he is separated from other prisoners. He has also been provided all facilities extended to VIP prisoners—a separate bedroom, a mosquito net, cot and other facilities. There is also a TV set in the cell, and he is allowed to watch Doordarsan and read newspapers every day. Jail authorities have been asked to keep a proper vigil on the security of the former chief minister.
AWARD// New Zealand author Eleanor Catton won the 2013 Man Booker prize for English fiction on Tuesday for her novel The Luminaries, to become the youngest winner in the award’s 45-year history. The 28-year-old novelist poked fun at the size of her 848-page tome about the 19th century New Zealand gold rush and thanked British publishers Granta for their patience. “I’ve actually just had to buy a new handbag because my old handbag was not big enough to fit my book,” Catton told journalists at a hasty press conference. Chair of judges Robert Macfarlane described Catton’s second novel, set in the New Zealand goldfields of 1866, as dazzling and very clever. “The Luminaries is a magnificent novel: awesome in its structural complexity; addictive in its story-telling; and magical in its conjuring of a world of greed and gold,” he said. Catton’s story tells the tale of Walter Moody, who arrives in the goldfields to seek his fortune and stumbles across a tense gathering of local men, who have met in secret to discuss a series of unsolved crimes.
MY ARRIVAL in India and settling down is a long story, tied to one factor—my affiliation with the Delhi School of Business (DSB). DSB, as is known, is a B-school launched by Vivekananda Institute of Professional Studies—also known as VIPS—an 12-year-old institution. I did have some ‘concerns’ when I came here—India’s higher education sector has not reached a stable stage. I have noticed that in India, transitions are always difficult. Whether its infrastructure, education, even migration—the cities all seem to be in a state of transition. It may have a long way to go, but it seems that the Indian system is taking the right strides.
Take DSB, for instance. Apart from the usual programmes in business and marketing, DSB runs programmes in law, both at a Master’s and Bachelor’s level and offers mass communication and journalism courses along with computer application. I joined DSB thanks to a focused management which decided to opt for an “open approach” in recruitment—thus, they approached me, and I seized the opportunity because it gave me the chance to be in this interesting Subcontinent and experience first-hand its growing formal education sector. The second factor which attracted me to this offer, was a chance to be with DSB. The institution management offered me flexibility in approach and support to hire an almost custom-made faculty which would be responsible to deliver quality information and interface with international institutions to create programmes meaningful for Indian students. When I say “custom-made” I mean that some of DSB’s programmes are designed keeping in mind the growing needs of Indian students.
Say for instance, DSB’s “international business programme”; the course is offered at National University of Singapore (NUS). Now, it is being offered at the DSB and will be taught by the same faculty who teaches it at the NUS. And no, students will not be asked to pay extra. I find DSB best defines the Indian approach of letting students receive international perspective (in case of this programme, international business with additional inputs covering marketing, finance, leadership and especially supply-chain, being taught by a global faculty). The study of the supply-chain is a specialisation not frequently offered in Indian universities. However, India is a market that suffers from a lack of an organised supply-chain. Increasingly, Indian institutions are recognising gaps in their curriculum and trying to plug them by offering different courses. Need be, they are also bringing in faculty/experts from abroad who are, in their turn, bringing in both domestic and international experience to the table.
NUS ranks number 25 on a global list of institutions and this course is one of its forte—and an Indian institution is importing it. I believe it is a healthy trend; if you cannot bring universities with its world-class infrastructure to open campuses here, then bring its best courses to the domestic soil. Those who cannot afford to travel to foreign universities can still avail international programmes. It is a trend that will pick up speed more in the future and more and more domestic institutions, I believe, will collaborate as far as their best programmes are concerned. The attempt (in all this) is to make Indian students not only job-ready, but to make sure that they understand both the Indian and the global contexts as they might be expected to work in both. In such a scenario, industry interactions become cardinal. At DSB, we go the extra mile to get senior HR personnel to talk to our students. Such value-adding programmes are increasingly becoming the need of the day because the native and international markets are constantly merging.
Another idea which will get increasing mileage in Indian higher education is “international accreditation”. One of the first discussions I had with the DSB management was about the AACSB accreditation. AACSB provides internationally recognised, specialised accreditation for business and accounting programmes at a Bachelor’s, Master’s, and Doctoral level. The AACSB Accreditation Standards challenge post-secondary educators to pursue excellence and continuous improvement throughout their business programmes. AACSB Accreditation is known, worldwide, as the longest standing, most recognised form of specialised/professional accreditation an institution and its business programs can earn.
Thus the accreditation requirement was put in place even before DSB’s course work was decided. AACSB accreditation is a manageable process; there is an online document which systematically explains the requirements for all “types” of school, whatever their focus may be. The critical factor is the mission statement.
For example, if the stated mission statement is research intensive, then the accreditation body will assess the institution on that criteria. If the stated mission is to be a “teaching provider” for a large number of recipients then that institution will be assessed on that criteria not on research. So, for Indian schools—by which I mean specialised institutions—it is important to understand what they really wish to focus on because the assessment will start from the mission statement. The purpose of the accreditation is to give the students a chance to value the merit of the programmes before they can be in a position to judge for themselves. And the accreditation process is transparent, conducted by an independent over-side body, in this case, a private body. The accreditation also ensures that an institution is actually adhering to their promises of excellence—if you wish to receive the stamp of approval do what you said you will do.
If you do not, then the accreditation panel requires the institution to follow certain rules to make you practice what you preach. Essentially, US accreditation agencies are focused on mission definitions and delivery of the stated mission. Often, institutional mission statements are written by Public Relations firms.
But in trying to wrestle a accreditation, most institutions find themselves actually delivering.
Whether an institution is focused on teaching or research; its true focus is “local”—urban or rural—on students, parents, employees, in and around an institutional area. An institution not only teaches its students, it also sees them as future stakeholders; and interact with them accordingly. Thus, I cannot underline on accreditation enough. Of course, I have heard of enough reasons to not do it; “we have never done it”, “we can’t be bothered, it takes too much of time” or the favourite, “our students won’t read, you know”.
Truth is, an outcome-based assessment is valuable for student and teachers as it helps them to assess consistently and give feedback. I see accreditation as a good introduction to a piece. Say this piece that you will write, you will introduce who and what before you get into the why and how—and accreditation is just that.
Also, a word to the Indian administrators and education leaders— you cannot be in this sector and be a technophobe. I don’t care how old you are. Students use a lot of technology in their social, personal, leisure life and will be expected to use a lot of technology in their work life. Therefore, we cannot make them go backwards in the classroom. A new-age professor cannot just come into the classroom and keep writing.
He or she has to teach and explain and to a group that is increasingly available online. I find people trained abroad more comfortable with technology that people trained here in India. The idea is to have student-teacher interaction, and no fixed office hours. Students should expect to see their professor at all times. The online system or I-learn with message, announcement and discussion boards, class e-mail announcements, ensure that a professor can be reached at all times even if he or she meets her’s or her class once a week for three hours. It allows a lot of room for discussion and feedback assist them. But they have to be able to function in this environment. Some of the universities abroad have also started to embrace Facebook.
Anyone who has exercised with a degree of commitment knows the role social motivation plays in keeping one committed. Without it, working out just becomes like working. Continuing on the work metaphor, imagine if you went to work every single day, sat at your desk and didn’t say a word to anyone and left, you would quit, sooner rather than later, right? Yet, finding a fitness partner—one who shares your interests, fitness goals and schedule—is becoming hard these days. So, it may be a good idea to marry your social strategies with your fitness routine, and consider these fitness-focused sites and apps—they’re designed to keep track of your workouts, count your calories, and most importantly, push you to go above and beyond your goals. Remember, the other folks who are on these sites and apps are there for the same reason you are—posting about workouts, swapping notes, and keeping each other motivated. Seeing updates on the newsfeed is a great reminder to find time in your day to work out as well!
It’s just like having a training partner, multiplied by a hundred!
Fitocracy (fitocracy.com): Got a competitive streak, have you? Fitocracy takes workout tracking-tracking to another level altogether. Sure, much like other social networks, this platform has profile pages, walls where you can post status updates and groups to segregate your activities, but what it does different is that it gamifies your workouts. For each workout you record, you earn points that help you level up, much like in a game. You can also earn points and achievements by completing related milestones or quests, such as pushing yourself to run a mile in say under eight minutes (akin to foursquare). What I really liked about Fitocracy is that it does not discriminate against any form of exercise—it lets you log all types of exercises, from lifting weights to brisk walks to martial arts and yoga!
Traineo (traineo.com): Traineo is a weightloss tracking network that lets you interact with members and take part in discussions on the site’s forums. What’s unique is that it allows you to choose up to four motivators— other members of Traineo who will receive email updates about your progress and can in turn send you weekly feedback.
MyFitnessPal (myfitnesspal.com): While it’s best known for its calorie-tracking and nutrition orientation, MyFitnessPal also logs workouts by integrating with a ton of third-party apps and gadgets such as Fitbit trackers. This way, every cardio workout you do is automatically subtracted from your daily calorie intake, so you know just how much you can eat.
MapMyFitness (mapmyfitness.com): With MapMyFitness, you can map your running routes and track progress via a mobile app, and once you’re done, you can share it with your friends through Facebook. Plus, the site lets you track what you eat and share recipes and healthy diets plans with other members.
Strava (strava.com): If you’re heavily into running or cycling and need a social network that’s a little less… social, try Strava. Your status updates consist only of workout stats, and while there are no points for working out, you get to compete directly with other runners or cyclists who are running on the same trails or routes as you are (referred to as Segments on Strava). Once a Segment is defined on Strava, the network tracks all users who pass through the trail and automatically uploads their stats (speed, time, power) to the server, and each Segment has its own leaderboard, so you can see where you rank in these mini-races. GymPact (gym-pact.com): For some, online social pressure isn’t enough to keep them honest and be up early.
GymPact hits them where it hurts—in the rear—in the wallet, to be more specific. How does it work? You Says So download an app and are asked to make a pact by putting money into an ‘account’ and by setting a number of days you wish to work out. If you miss a day, you forfeit money from your account, which gets divided among those who kept to their pact. Punishing? Yes. Fair? Totally!
RunKeeper (runkeeper.com): RunKeeper is handy app for your smartphone that lets you measure heart rate, keep track of calorie intake and usage and measure distance covered (using your phone’s GPS function).
You can use the app for a variety of activities— not just running, as the name would suggest—plus the app regulates your music playlist based on your level of activity and even lets you take pictures during your exercise. It is very handy for those of us who like to head out on new routes on the morning jogs. Best of all, it has an active community in many cities and the app even lets you find new running friends based on your location, or search for people who are at the same fitness level as you.
Endomondo (endomondo.com): One of the more social among fitness apps, Endomondo offers public challenges for a number of sports, and leaderboards track achievements such as who has logged the most walking distance for the month or spent the most time being active. Of course, your own personal tracking—how far you walked, ran, biked on a daily basis—can also be shared on Facebook to communicate and share with your workout buddies in real time.
Bear in mind, while these digital tools may help you shed those extra kilos faster, some of these apps and networks make oversharing your information a bit too easy. Considering the stigma generally associated with discussing your calorie intake or weight gained, posting your details to Facebook may lead to some embarrassment, so do share and scour the privacy settings for these apps/sites with some degree of caution.
SPEAKING PRIVATELY A few weeks ago, an erudite MP—from a non-Congress, non-BJP background—described the UPA government’s binge of populist legislation as a “poison pill” approach. In management jargon, the “poison pill defence” is deployed when a company is faced with a hostile takeover. The management so targeted then takes deliberate measures to make takeover unattractive. It commits to investments in areas where returns are unpredictable; it hands out salary hikes; it takes high cost loans. All this means the entity attempting the takeover will develop second thoughts or, if it pushes ahead, will be saddled with a huge burden.
In military jargon, the “poison pill defence” would be termed a scorched earth policy. The Nazis tried it. As Joseph Goebbels, wartime Germany’s propaganda minister, announced, “If the day should ever come when we must go, if some day we are compelled to leave the scene of history, we will slam the door so hard that the universe will shake and mankind will stand back in stupefaction …” Hitler took this to an extreme and wanted Paris burnt when it became clear the Allies were winning.
To be fair, the MP who used the “poison pill” expression did not have historical analogies in mind. He was referring to the almost deliberate strategy by the UPA government to wreck the economy, make the currency markets that more volatile and vulnerable to noxious sentiment, and leave the public exchequer with a huge, unsustainable bill from which easy retreat will be difficult. The next person in government will find himself manacled by populist and self-defeating policies. For instance, the new Land Acquisition law makes any idea of an advance in Indian manufacturing, industrialisation and orderly urbanisation impossible.
Should any attempt be made to efface some of the legacy policies—provided, of course, there is no UPA III government and an alternative has been elected—the Congress, its MPs and its travellers will accuse the new government of bad faith, of betraying the poor and of gross insensitivity. A propaganda offensive will be renewed and it will become difficult for the successor to take dramatic steps.
This plan may or may not work. Who knows, if by some miracle the Congress is elected back to power, even the idea of it may not arise. Yet, it is a piquant argument that this is precisely what the Congress in trying in the face of what it believes is a hostile takeover—by electoral means—by an enemy the likes of which it has not known. The hostile takeover is not feared from the BJP; indeed the manner in which the central leadership of the BJP has helped usher in the Land Acquisition and Food Security Bills would suggest the Congress treats it as an opportunity rather than a threat. The hostile takeover is feared from Narendra Modi.
If indeed Modi makes it to 7 Racecourse Road, the Congress has ensured he will inherit the most troubled economy in two decades. Given India’s demographic mix and the sheer volume of young citizens looking for jobs—in absolute numbers, more than the matching figures in 1991—no new Prime Minister would have entered office in such challenging socio-economic circumstances, except Nehru in 1947 and PV Narasimha Rao 44 years later. Astonishingly, the magnitude of this crisis would appear lost on the establishment in New Delhi. Take the fall of the ` in recent months, though it has made some recovery subsequently. There were reasons for the rapid decline of the `. It was a consequence of liquidity tightening in the USA and of war clouds in Syria and the impact on oil prices. However, few could deny there was a depletion of confidence in the Indian economy and that this contributed to the run on the `. Investors were not putting in their money; why blame foreigners, even NRIs and Indians were and are holding back.
If the current account deficit is high, it is because rationalisation of energy prices was avoided for months on end, through much of UPA-II’s first three years in office, to help Rahul Gandhi present a picture-perfect campaign in UP. It did not work and the Congress got smashed in the state election of 2012 and only then did diesel prices start to go up.
The other item adding to the current account deficit, though in smaller measure, is gold imports. Historically, gold is a defensive investment that people turn to in times of war or uncertainty. If Indians are putting their faith in gold today, it reflects anxiety in instruments that are dependent on government decision-making.
This writer does not have data to back the claim, but anecdotal evidence would suggest prosperity at the bottom of the ladder—including in rural India—is also leading to greater gold purchase. For all the talk of inclusive banking, the government has done little to bring lower middle-class Indians into the matrix of financial instruments, bank deposits and mutual funds. Whatever extra they have, inevitably goes into gold. Since the UPA is taking credit for increasing rural prosperity, shouldn’t it have anticipated the absence of formal investing and savings avenues in rural India or even among the urban working classes?
To travel to other parts of India and to cities other than the capital is to experience two different universes. The sense of foreboding and the anger at the economic collapse, the price surge and the slow-murder of hope is so evident as to be terrifying. In New Delhi and its incestuous media and intellectual circles, the debates and the mood are far removed. They are surreal, if not delusional. Every day, establishment intellectuals come up with bizarre theories. One newspaper report said the Food Security Bill would deliver a big push to the economy. Being assured of free food, people would use their surplus to buy consumer goods, increase demand and trigger a manufacturing boom.
Another solemn editorial called upon Indians to celebrate the fall of the `, arguing it would boost exports. Pray, what is left to export? After 10 years in power, we have a finance minister telling Parliament of the need to make Indian a manufacturing economy. In the interim, state-inspired activism and sabotage has placed obstacles in the path of India’s industrialisation. Look at textiles, an area where India had huge advantages. Here even Bangladesh has made more strides.
Make no mistake, the two populist legislations of recent times, the weakening of the ` and stagnation of infrastructure and industry in the past decade are the equivalent of an economic Hiroshima. Remember how difficult it was to rebuild a broken Japan after World War II? That’s the task that awaits whoever comes in in 2014.
“Shifu is your smart friend who lives in your smartphone. It observes when and how you use your phone. It knows what important things need your attention and when is the right time to show them to you…Shifu reminds you to do things which are important to you... Shifu reminds you of things which you otherwise would have missed and it does so without being intrusive. Shifu is the sidekick you always wanted.”
Welcome to the world of smarter Made in India application Shifu. This app with a name pronounced “shurfoo” in China, and “shee-foo” the Indian way, is smarter than your iPhone voice assistant Siri. Prashant Singh, Co-founder, Signals, the fledgling company behind Shifu, explains Shifu is very different from Siri and other apps in this space. He calls his journey to innovating Shifu “a long story”. “The idea of Shifu germinated while working in my previous job.”
Working with a portfolio of 20 apps which had 53mn downloads Singh used to look at the usage statistics of the apps and wonder, “How can I make use of this information to help people get more out of our app? Can I find out when the user is free and bored and remind him to use our app?” Singh was sure that this kind of gentle nudging at the right time could help the user get more value from the apps. “I thought if I could do this for our apps, why can’t I do it for the entire phone experience, i.e., can I make the phone suggest what is the best use of it at a given point of time?” says Singh, reminiscing about his inspiration.
His thoughts were leading him in the direction where the phone would nudge the user to make/return a phone call to a friend, check Facebook, visit a nearby coffee shop, or watch a video, or upload a picture, etc. There were so many ways in which a mobile phone could be used, and Singh wanted to figure out the best way of doing so. Step one; the budding innovator decided to quit his job. He partnered with two of his friends, Michael Massey and Deepansh Jain, in November 2012, to launch Signals, the startup that was to launch the breakthrough app Shifu eight months later in June 2013. Massey is not just the Co-founder but the Custodian of Server and Analytics. “He is the man behind all the server side magic you see in Shifu,” says Singh. With a Masters in Computer Science from IIT Kharagpur, Massey’s love for analysing data has his partners’ respect. “He is obsessed with optimising algorithms,” says Singh. Deepansh Jain, the third partner in the trio, leads all of the client side initiatives at Signals. He holds a BTech degree in Computer Science from Delhi College of Engineering.
“Deepansh is a very active member of Android forums and was the first moderator of StackOverflow from India,” says Singh proudly. Jain manages an online community of ebook enthusiasts. This serial innovator built a couple of apps in his college days which got half a million downloads in aggregate. He built an Android app for India Against Corruption (IAC) which proved to be very popular. Singh himself has an illustrious list of achievements for one so young. He has eight years of experience in mobile app development; he is the founder of the Delhi chapter of Mobile Monday (MoMo), an industry association for mobile developers; and he was on the program management team at Monsoon Multimedia, a mobile TV startup based in San Mateo, part of the core team at Spice Labs, which developed a portfolio of apps that got 53 million downloads and reached a daily revenue of `123,780–495,120 ($2000–8000). “We were the top publisher of apps on Blackberry, Nokia and Android,” says Singh about his last stint. A resident of Rajasthan, Singh credits his innovative streak to his environment. “All of us are born with this tendency to be creative. Some are more fortunate to be born in an environment, which provides us enough resources to take care of survival needs like food and shelter and encourages enquiry and helps us with resource and guidance to get ourselves educated to find answers.” The company has big plans in the offing—first they are filing a US patent for it. Meanwhile, the team is exploring all possibilities to make Shifu the ultimate best friend indeed.
“We want it to help you in everything, from showing an intelligent alert for the battery to helping you stay in touch with your friend. The possibility of what can be done with Shifu is immense and I believe that we are just scratching the surface of our smartphones,” says a confident Singh. “We are witnessing interesting ways in which people are using Shifu,” he says adding cautiously, “But it’s a little too soon to talk about the future roadmap. We are one of the very few product startups in the country. This is my fourth startup and the first one as a founder. Running a global startup is a hard task everywhere in the world.” In India he finds “on the positive side you have access to a significant chunk of the market. We can develop our product at a fraction of their cost.” However, as Singh says, “No one has built a global product like Shifu in India before, hence finding someone who knows how to do it is tough.”
Notwithstanding the challenges, the smart innovator of the smartest smartphone sidekick is sure to find a way to make more smart moves.
THE OTHER DAY, I was watching the 1954 Bimal Roy film Naukri with a young Kishore Kumar in a solemn role as the job-seeking naujavaan Ratan, who travels from his village to Calcutta, but encounters disappointment at every turn. The film has plot elements we think of as clichés of a cinematic past: the beloved sister suffering from TB, the widowed mother, the arrival of a letter bearing exam results, the journey that begins with tearful farewells. But these were understandable concerns of the “social” cinema of the post-Independence decade. The main markers of that new world were: a naukri or job (which often went to less deserving people with “connections”); a muchcoveted makaan or house of one’s own (the first song in the film is Chhota sa Ghar Hoga, where Ratan dreams about having a home under the clouds, with a golden throne for his mother); and the ladki, girlfriend (often the girl in the window across the lane, inaccessible until job and accommodation have both been secured). There was also idealism, which sometimes went sour. Understandably, male bonding featured strongly in this filmic universe. In Calcutta, Ratan boards in the ominously named bekaari block, which he shares with other unemployed men who have been there longer than him. One lovely scene has Ratan humming to himself about his joblessness; soon, heads pop up from behind the partition and other boarders start singing about their travails. One of them, played by the then-young character actor Iftekhar, warbles “Main collector na banu aur na banunga officer / Apna baabu hi bana lo mukhe, bekaar hoon main”. (“I couldn’t become a collector and won’t become an officer / At least give me a job as your assistant or baabu.”) Watching that scene, I was reminded that more than 20 years later, the same Iftekhar played a man in a position of great power in Deewaar: the rich businessman-cumsmuggler who gets his shoes polished by a little boy on the footpath. In the fantasy world where movies can converse with each other across time, it is conceivable that the two men are the same person: that Ratan’s frustrated friend in Naukri found a way to operate outside the law, until he achieved everything he couldn’t achieve honestly— eventually arriving at a position from where he could guide the next generation through dubious routes.
Social aspiration—the need to move up in the world, to bridge the divide between want and privilege—has always been an important theme in Hindi films. And how could it not be, in a society where the gap between the advantaged and the disadvantaged is always so large? The theme has played out in different ways: from social realism of the Naukri kind to black comedy (Ray’s Jana Aranya, about a man drawn ever deeper into a vortex of amorality) to Angry Young Man dramas (Deewaar and Trishul), and even comedies that conceal serious themes (Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s delightful Biwi aur Makaan, about five modernday Pandavas exiled in the city).
Given the changes in Indian society in the past two decades and the concurrent changes in Indian cinema, it is tempting to think that the world depicted 60 years ago no longer exists. Look again. The basic internal struggles experienced by the characters in those stories are still very much in place, even if mainstream Hindi cinema tends not to venture into villages nowadays.
For instance, one of the best Hindi films of the past decade, Dibakar Banerjee’s Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye!, was not about the village-city dichotomy– it was about a subtler divide within Delhi itself, what wearing fashionable clothes to an exclusive hotel or mall can mean to someone who grew up in a cramped house. The narrative about a West Delhi boy who becomes a master thief, understands the spiraling nature of class aspiration, and the tricks of survival in a dog-eat-dog world where the kindly, family man who befriends you might have a dagger ready to plunge into your back. Many old films like Guru Dutt’s Baazi and Raj Kapoor’s Awaara featured street naifs being led into a lavish world, but retaining their personal integrity; not becoming “corrupted” by wealth. Some of this idealism has vanished in our own times, where films like Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! and Special 26 are based on a more amoral sense of social justice: in an inherently unfair world, it is okay for the underprivileged person to reach out and take what he can. There are also some fine films about youngsters who choose to stay on the “right” path or who get swayed into doing something underhanded but collect themselves just in time. One of my favourite recent examples of a good-hearted, well-observed film about aspiration was Fukrey, about four youths dreaming of a bright future, starting with admission to a smart college. This could easily have been an Indian version of American horny-teen films, but even when two of the boys talk about the ‘hot girls’ in college, it doesn’t come across as gratuitous leering: it is more about fearfully approaching a new milieu, wondering if they will gain acceptance (it is reminiscent of a girl from a conservative background in Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! watching short-skirted college-goers with a mixture of envy and distaste). When these boys mispronounce words or when one of them tries to be cool by pretending he knows what a French kiss is, the film isn’t mocking them: it invites us to see where they come from and where they want to go. Scenes like the one where the Sikh boy Lali prays in a gurdwara, asking for college admission and even giving God a list of his requirements, are played for humour (a child watching him says “Roll number bhi likhwa de!”). But they have a sense of character and circumstance built into them. Lali speaks in slang, wears torn jeans and T-shirts, and is a teen of the new millennium, but at this moment he evokes the Ratan of Naukri, smiling and keeping his spirits high as he walks from one door to another, running his fingers over the “No Vacancy” signs.