Hillary Clinton and the question of planting

What Hillary Clinton’s campaign has been accused of doing this last week at a forum in Newton, Iowa might not come as a shock to most people, even though it seems like a big issue. Clinton, who was speaking at the forum, accepted questions after her speech. But Muriel Gallo-Chasanoff , a student at Grinnell College, accused her campaign of “planting” questions, in the audience, in advance. “They were canned,” she said. In an interview with CNN, Gallo-Chasanoff revealed that when she asked the senior Clinton campaign staffer how it would work, she was told “Raise your hand and she’ll (Hillary) call on you.” Gallo-Chasanoff bluntly stated that she felt the entire questioning process had been stage managed, “There were 200 people there raising their hand to ask questions and I was one out of 4. Doesn’t seem random, exactly.”

First reported in Grinnell College’s “Scarlet and Black” by reporter Patrick Caldwell, the issue has now taken on national significance. It is not that people believed these things never happened, but in Iowa, where people believe in the workings of a democracy, where candidates are regularly asked spontaneous and at times provocative questions, this “staging” of questions comes as a bolt from the blue.

The whole point to having a “forum” is for audience members, who believe it is their birth right, living in a democracy, to ask questions of their political representatives. Once you take that away from them, they stop believing in the process. How many times in a lifetime does a college student from Iowa believe he or she will get a chance to ask a Presidential candidate a question? And when that one chance comes, if you do not let that student ask the question he or she wants to, and instead stage it by supplying your own questions, it is like unashamedly disillusioning your voters as to what a democracy is. If your voter base stops believing in the process, you’re fighting an uphill battle. This is exactly what Hillary Clinton’s campaign has managed to do.

Clinton’s campaign also gave her rival candidates ready fodder. As John Edwards told reporters in Des Moines, “People expect you to stand in front of them and answer their hard questions - and they expect it to be an honest process. What George Bush does is plant questions and exclude people from events, and I don't think that's what Democrats want to see in Iowa."

A Clinton spokesperson has said that "this (the planting of questions in the audience) is not standard policy and will not be repeated again." Why then was it used in this instance, particularly in Iowa, an extremely important state in the primaries and with a deep tradition of democracy, town hall meets and caucuses? It is like committing hara-kiri, in a state quite vital to each candidate’s interests. Clinton aides have acknowledged planting the question, but at the same time have denied Clinton knew about it. Does that make a difference? Whether or not Clinton knew about a question hardly matters because it is patently obvious that her staffers would make sure a “planted” question would pertain to issues she was comfortable with. Clinton was obviously comfortable with the climate change issue and that is what she got asked a question about.

Clinton can do herself a favor by refraining from resorting to such tactics, especially in states like Iowa. The national primary race might not necessarily be affected by a one-off Clinton campaign faux-pas, but in Iowa this could mean the difference between winning and losing. A recent poll shows that in the Democratic race in Iowa, Illinois Sen. Barack Obama and former North Carolina Sen. John Edwards were in a near tie — with 22 and 23 percent respectively — and catching up to Hillary Clinton, who polled at 25 percent.

Rudy Giuliani and the one Right way

26 years ago, Ronald Reagan set a precedent for the Republican Party. In identifying with and relating to the religious conservative movement during his 1981 Presidential campaign, Reagan made a choice for the future of the Republican Party and the effect that evangelicals would have on Republican stances and policies. Members and election candidates especially, ever since, have necessarily, keeping this constituency in mind, had to “tune up” their conservatism, to a degree satisfying the evangelical voter base.

It is no different in the current run up to the 2008 Presidential Elections. While the Democratic Party candidates try to outdo each other as being more liberal, this pales in comparison to the extent that the Republican Party candidates attempt to establish themselves as being more conservative than the other. The importance of proclaiming a conservative stance, especially to the right religious voter base, has only grown in recent years. Each of the Republican candidates seems to believe that the only way to gain this evangelical support, without which a White House run is considered near impossible, is to portray themselves as being more religious and more conservative than all the other candidates.

While this appears to be easier for some of the candidates, frontrunner Rudy Giuliani seems to be having a tough time convincing the evangelical voter base that he is indeed conservative. Ever since he announced his candidacy, his conservative credentials have been questioned. While most people typically point out his alleged liberal stances on gay rights and abortion, many others feel his advocacy of gun control during his mayoral term in New York and his support for Mario Cuomo as Governor of New York take away from his professed conservatism.

In April of this year, during an interview with CNN, Giuliani was asked about his views on abortion and, a video clip dating from 1989 circulating on the internet that showed him making the statement, “There must be public funding for abortions for poor women. We cannot deny any woman the right to make her own decision about abortion because she lacks resources.” In response, Giuliani told CNN, “Abortion is wrong, abortion shouldn’t happen. Personally you should counsel people to that extent.” At the same time, he also made it clear that he believed “ultimately abortion’s a constitutional right and therefore if it’s a constitutional right, ultimately, even if you do it on a state by state basis, you have to make sure that people are protected.” He stated also his belief that there should be public funding for abortion, ““if it would deprive someone of a constitutional right, if that’s the status of the law.”

Such views have been considered liberal by many observers and they are causing Giuliani to make an extra effort to convey to his evangelical voter base that although he might support the law, as in the case of abortions, his views remain conservative. Frequently attacked by Mitt Romney and Fred Thompson, as to his lack of conservatism or pro-liberal policy choices in some instances, on the Republican candidates’ debates, Giuliani has been pushed into a corner. While not all Republican candidates have completely clean conservative pasts, as regards their Senate votes and policy stances, none seem to be taken to task on the matter more than Giuliani.

In early October, while campaigning in New Hampshire, Giuliani was asked his views on the evangelical voter base and what he thought their influence would be. In response Giuliani said, “You know when we’ll find out who is going to be influential in this year’s election?, When it’s over.” Giuliani made it clear that he feared the Democrats more than he feared any voter base of his and in what can be seen now, as an early indication of what he would tell his religious conservative base at the Values Voters summit in Washington later on in the month, declared that ““I have great respect for religion, for religious freedom and religious toleration. I think people of faith make a tremendous contribution to this country. And I ask them maybe, maybe people of faith can respect someone who is honest with them. With me, you know what you’re going to get.”

His appearance at the Values Voters summit was thought to be crucial, by most accounts, with many people calling it a make or break for his candidacy. In his 40 minute speech to the religious conservative audience gathered in Washington, Giuliani bluntly told them that “you have nothing to fear from me.” He allayed fears in several voters who earlier said they would vote for an independent candidate should Giuliani get the Republican nomination. His unequivocal stance on religion and God, saying “this is at the core of who I am” seemed to assure people that he would be true to his word and be conservative in his policy making. He vowed also to nominate judges with conservative judicial philosophies, cut down on abortions, oppose gay rights and be fiscally conservative.

This appears to have been a good beginning, though the religious conservative base would surely want more in the way of assurances and promises as to his being strictly conservative during his Presidential term. It is still believed that Giuliani is a long shot at winning the primaries in Iowa and South Carolina and that unless he can dramatically sway a large number of the evangelical voter base to his side, it might not be possible for him to win the Republican nomination.

This morning he received a significant boost to that end when televangelist Pat Robertson officially endorsed Giuliani and his campaign. This is considered a major coup for Giuliani’s campaign and should go a long way toward helping his chances in the Republican primaries, especially with the religious conservative voter base, with which Robertson has a considerable influence.

One Year On

Michael Schumacher drove his last Formula1 race on the 22nd of October 2006 and for many people around the world, it was the end of an era. For me, it was the day my childhood ended. I grew up with him, and like only Sachin Tendulkar apart from him has done, he affected my life like almost nothing else. Although he retired more than a year ago, and I will never, for as long as I live, forget his last race in Brazil, a masterclass that only he was capable of, I decided to wait through an entire season of Formula1 before I wrote this piece. Initial reactions always seem just that; initial reactions. After the luxury and consideration of an entire year of watching the sport without him, the mind has a perspective, and mine was very clear; nobody else will ever affect me like Michael Schumacher did.

Not to take away from Lewis Hamilton's breathtaking debut season, or Kimi Raikkonen's mature and controlled championship drive, but they are not Schumacher. It was not just that my mood depended on a Schumacher victory or defeat. Michael Schumacher gave me my identity. He defined my existence as a human being; driving most of my instincts, my juvenile persuasions, my idealistic whims and shaping my particularity as a young, sports loving, Indian boy. I've watched him as a six year old, and grown up with him, as he matured, himself, into a seasoned champion, 37 years of age, but still with the speed and arrogance of his youth.

The sport, and the championship in 2007 were exciting beyond belief. Schumacher's absence did not particularly affect the sport, or its viewership (McLaren, Alonso and Hamilton made sure of that), but did I actually think any one of these drivers was going to alter my identity as a human being? Did I think that I would really give up everything in the world just to see Hamilton race? Can Kimi Raikkonen incite passion in anything other than his car throttle? Does Fernando Alonso really believe he will have the worldwide following that Schumacher did? They are all exceptional drivers, and for someone who likes British sportspersons(my tone might reveal that I do not!), Hamilton might actually some day do to them what Schumi did for the rest of us, but for me, to use a cliche I have grown used to telling friends whenever they ask me about Schumacher's retirement, it was like watching Baywatch without Pamela Anderson!
It's just not the same. For Schumacher made the sport heavenly for us, his drives were nothing short of magical. We were in a trance whenever we saw Michael driving, and the English language restricts me from expressing to an accurate degree, the euphoria he brought to us. What he did was special, and for us Michael fans, it was like a drug that nobody else can replicate.

Formula1 is not a "team sport", in the true sense of the word, whatever people might tell you. It is unlike football or basketball, where there is allegiance to the team as a whole and where each team has an identity, regardless of who plays for that team. In true team sports, you continue supporting that team for as long as you live. Men may come and men may go, but "it" goes on forever. Manchester United fans or New York Yankees fans will attest to that, though one might argue that there are considerably fewer Chicago Bulls supporters now, than there were, when a certain Michael Jordan used to play for them.
Not that I mean to say that I wasn't supporting Ferrari as a whole, but could Eddie Irvine, Rubens Barrichello or Felipe Massa incite the same passions in me that Schumacher did? I supported Ferrari only because Michael Schumacher drove for them; I was supporting Benetton(where Schumacher drove prior to joining Ferrari) before that! Where do I go now? Who do I support? For fourteen years I did not have to ask myself that question, but now that Schumacher's gone, there's nobody left. Over the years I might get to supporting one of the exciting new youngsters, a Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel or Heikki Kovalainen, but if they do for me even half of what Schumacher did, I'll be a happy man.

I took a year to understand and come to terms with Michael's retirement, but such is life. Everyone has to retire someday, sports fans just have to live with that. It is an absurdity that random human beings and their physical exploits affect us to such an extent, but as a sports fan you make a choice to become attached to something you know will no longer be there for you in a few years time. You have to learn to let go, and start afresh, albeit realizing that things may never be the same. Michael's retirement announcement at Monza was like a bolt from the wilderness, however much one was expecting it. One of the defining features of my childhood snatched away from me without my having any say in the decision! It knew then that it was time to grow up.

Formula 1 is something I love, something I will still lose sleep to see. The talent in the paddocks is unbelievable, the competition exhilarating and balanced, but there is no Michael Schumacher. Nothing that incites in me a primal passion, with my heart in my mouth sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for the next stunning overtaking, and so it will be . Schumacher's gone, but Formula1 is on, and all we can hope for is some good racing, our identities set in stone forever, immutable and averse to change. Nobody will ever affect me like Michael Schumacher did.

Don't Tase Me Bro!

Asking John Kerry a question shouldn't usually land you in the hands of the police. John Kerry had just finished a two hour long speech at the University of Florida and it was now time for some Q&A. Q&A sessions at any college can be quite a fascinating experience for even the most casual of observers, and this time it was no different. Up stands Andrew Meyer, UF student, to ask Kerry some piquant and contentious questions. He gets carried away in the course of his questioning, and is eventually led away by Campus police. Foolishly resisting his arrest, his futile attempts to get free lead to him being dragged to the back of the auditorium where he was pinned to the ground and “tasered” with stun guns that the police were carrying. Referring to Clinton in such irreverent terms, he could have avoided, but nothing justifies the police’s actions in the matter.
Andrew Meyer had come with a mission, and was quite well prepared to execute, but a few imprudent words led to his being taken away in the middle of his questioning, in less than agreeable circumstances. The police say they took him away because of his profane reference to Clinton, but not everyone views it in the same light. That his questioning was provocative and impassioned is clear for everyone to see, but does that necessarily justify the use of the stun guns? Where does it fit in with the larger question of free speech?

According to the police this was more a case of public profanity or obscenity than a limitation of free speech. Then why would they tell Meyer after arresting him that he had been arrested for “inciting a riot”? The police clearly did not themselves know where they stood on the matter, since they approached Meyer not once, but twice; once before his reference to Clinton and once after, which would mean that the Clinton reference alone could not have been the reason for their intervention.

If that was not the reason, then was it just the manner in which Meyer was going about his questioning? If yes, it would beg the question: are there limits to free speech in a public forum or is the phrase "limiting free speech" itself an oxymoron? Was Meyer really disturbing the peace courtesy of his trenchant manner? Or did the police decide for themselves that this was the case and that they should put an end to it?

John Kerry’s attempts, albeit half-hearted, to quell the situation, saying, "No, it's alright, I'll answer the question" definitely signaled that he was not unduly affected by the questioning. Nevertheless, Andrew Meyer found himself at the back of the auditorium and his futile attempts at resisting arrest only led to him being "tasered" by the stun guns that the police were carrying on their persons. Weren't stun guns supposed to be used as a last resort? There were enough officers to bring down a single college student; what was the need of using stun guns on him? Meyer’s screams for mercy were unheeded and the incident from that moment on had become controversial.

Why though was Meyer resisting when he knew it was futile, not to mention against the law? He was clearly quite shaken by the entire episode and after being taken outside was getting paranoid by the minute. He didn’t calm down even after repeatedly being told to by the officers in charge to do so. His frequent assertions of innocence and fear overly dramatized the situation and by the end of it he feared for his life. Meyer would have done better to have calmed down and let the police go about their business according to the law, even if he believed that he was in the right and had done nothing wrong. His affectations of fear and paranoia didn't do him any good. People all around him would have supported him in any case, but his continuous pleas and resisting gave the police some ready fodder to exacerbate the situation and making it look far more serious than it really was. All in all, the police use of stun guns seems totally unnecessary, but Meyer could have avoided most of his troubles with some more considered decision making on his part.

A Tale of Two Cities

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, I had everything before me, I had nothing before me, I was going direct to Heaven, I was going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
There continues to be a president with a large jaw and a pumpkin for a brain, in the United States; and it is still the case that there is a prime minister with a turban on his head and criminals for colleagues, in India . In both countries it is clearer than crystal, to the lords of the State preserves of loaves and fishes, that things in general are screwed up beyond belief.

It is the year of Our Lord two thousand and seven. I am just about to complete my ridiculously long summer break in Delhi and fly back to begin my senior year at school in Philadelphia, in the United States. This requires for mental adjustments on my part, to a degree not commonly seen, in preparation for a city quite vastly different from the one I'm leaving . Not that I haven't done this before; it is just that spending 8 months in Philadelphia during term time, and then 4 months of summer in Delhi require a person to be willing to flick switches in his or her brain with a disconcerting ease and then act like it's a very normal thing to do. Paradigm shifts have been heard of, but our brains are just not wired to take in these drastic shifts in environment, people and philosophy, on such a regular basis.
Nevertheless, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I've been resigned to spending the last four months in Delhi and now I've got to go back to start my last year at school in Philadelphia.

Delhi's been hot this year, unusually so. The rains never came. People are feeling the heat, but we haven't had too many electricity issues, at least. Everyone's busy, people don't have the time anymore. I'm on vacation, not much to do. Do I want to have lunch now?Sure, why not? Friends coming over, let's go out for some coffee. I get into a fight with the auto-wallah... it might finally rain this evening. What day is it today? 10 o clock in the morning, where is everyone? Should I have breakfast now? I was reading a book last night wasn't I? Which one is that? No, let's get another. India's playing England today in the afternoon. Man, I need to rent a couple of movies in the evening. Have my clothes been ironed? Another pointless sales caller, how much for the milk bhai saab? The sun is out, Wednesday afternoon at 4 o clock. The birds are chirping to usher in the evening, why don't I sit out or maybe go for a walk? Have you met Mr. Suneja as yet beta? People are nice, everyone's happy.
Philly's been nice this semester, neither too hot nor too cold. BA screwed up with my luggage. Who gets the biggest room in the apartment? I'm here to get an education, not much time. Dude have you got the tech guys to have a look at your laptop? Oh hell I don't have bedding for the night! What time is class in the morning? Akshay you want to get lunch tomorrow? Advisor meeting at 11:30. Books are expensive this time. You are scheduled to take your make up final in two days time, please be prepared. McKinsey presentation at 8 o clock today, damn, I almost forgot to have dinner. Where have you been all week? I'm still jet lagged, it's too cold if you leave the windows open at night. Setting up your speakers takes some time, conference call at 10 tonight. Have you sent those emails out and can you come to buy furniture Saturday morning? Federer plays Djokovic in the evening, 200 pages of Legal Studies. Get that paper done by Tuesday evening, we can play tennis on Thursday. You're not getting enough sleep, have you had enough water? Call your sister goddamnit!

I'm back in Philly as you can see, it's nice..that was Delhi...this is Philly and
"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done....

New Delhi, 2007

One of the oldest inhabited cities in the world, they say people have lived here for more than four thousand five hundred years. Indraprastha to the Pandavas, it has since seen the Sultanate, gone through the Khiljis, Tughluqs, Sayyids and Lodis. It was Shahjahanabad for its seventh avatar and since 1911, became the capital for the Raj. Through the centuries it had a distinct identity, the dynasties that ruled from here lent it an unmistakable touch. Now though, it is the National Capital Territory of Delhi and it would be difficult for anyone to put a finger on what really defines this great city.
Not to say that Delhi is without character. Having lived here all my life, I love it like no other. It is a far more "livable" city compared to the other three metros, and I'm sure nobody will disagree. What I'm looking for is to to be able to "label" this city the way one is able to do with Bombay, Madras and Calcutta(I prefer the old names, they help to make my point clearer). Bombay's diversity is legendary, but its Parsee dominated culture and "financial capital" status, manifests itself in a pronounced buzz that is quite unique to the city. Madras and Calcutta are, by proxy, very easy to stereotype, because of the large "indigenous" population of Tamils and Bengalis respectively. Though a decent contingent, in the latter, of Marwaadis, lends Calcutta some semblance of variety.
Delhi though, is a different case altogether. Its diversity is grossly underestimated and its dynamics never quite fascinate the way Bombay's seem to. People readily assume the Punjabi influence to be pervasive, but equally readily tend to forget, that for centuries, this was essentially a Muslim city, built almost entirely by Muslim rulers. The more one thinks about it, the more difficult it is to pinpoint a certain defining feature of this city. You do get a sense of being somewhere in the north of India, but it becomes quite a task to come to grips with what this city is all about. The Delhi of Rajinder Nagar and Raja Garden is so vastly different from the Delhi of Khan Market and Jor Bagh that one can easily be forgiven for thinking these are two distinct cities under the same government.
It is not just the economic disparities among colonies, every city in India will invariably have that as a salient feature. It is the complete difference in character, philosophy, feel and atmosphere within the confines of this city, stretching from Dwarka to Rohini to Sarita Vihar to Shahdra. It is simply not possible to decisively say that there is any one particular feature that might be common to these areas, or even its inhabitants. What or Who is it then that really defines Delhi? Is it the school teacher from Okhla? The lawyer from West Patel Nagar? The businessman from Model Town? or the computer engineer from Malviya Nagar?
William Dalrymple writes beautifully about Delhi, in his classic, City of Djinns, but you cannot help get the feeling that what he is describing is only a very small part of this city; one that is somehow, desperately, clinging on to its past. Dalrymple, understandably, has nothing to say about the Delhi of South Extension and Nehru Place, of Saket and Mayur Vihar, given their being devoid of the kind of romance he so eloquently evokes in all else that he addresses in the book. We would be in denial, were we to ignore the fact that it does not suffice anymore to ascribe to Delhi a Muslim past, Punjabi influence and the Mughals' and Lutyens' architecture.
Delhi is, to use a cliche, a melting pot, with some very pronounced flavors that seem unduly accentuated.
You will find in Delhi Bengalis and Jats, Kashmiris and Madrasis, Marwaadis and Biharis, Baniyas and Brahmins, Christians and Jains, Jacobs and Palkhiwaalas, Mishras and Roys, Abdullahs and D'Souzas. You could stay in a Marwaadi household, have a Nepali servant, a Garhwali driver, a Bengali doctor, a Rajput watchman, a Bihari tutor, Parsees for neighbours and South Indian for lunch. Try as you might, you will fail if you try to define what this city is all about. It might have been possible in the past, but today, it would be a futile attempt, to say the least.
Delhi is in many ways, becoming another Bombay, but it clearly lacks a distinctive character that we could use to define it. The Punjabi influence must certainly not be underestimated, but it would stretching the facts to say that Delhi is primarily a Punjabi city. The minorities are each in numbers large enough so as to affect the overall feel of the city, and you will run into people from all walks of life, religions, regions, caste and creed, in just one day about town.
It is unusual for a capital city so historic and great, to lack a defining feature or unmistakable characteristic, but Delhi will never be what London, Paris or Rome are. It is a city that is being continually morphed into something else, it is dynamic in ways that we do not quite comprehend and it will take its own course to realize itself in terms of a distinct character. We must wait patiently to see how things play out, and be satisfied that we live in a great city that is in a rare, but prolonged period of transition.

Just Another Day At The Office

I'm interning currently at a business daily, and needless to say, this is quite an exciting time to be doing so. Maybe I should substitute the word interesting for exciting, since exciting might point toward a positive turn of events, which is patently not the case. Quite the contrary, and it is quite safe to say that almost anyone with any vested interests in the equities market has not slept a wink in the last two weeks. Almost everyone seems to have severely eroded net worths, so that does not hold any fascination anymore. It is quite a sight to see though, people who have to write, day in and day out, about this perennial volatility in world markets.
The US' sub-prime crisis seems to be far deeper and more serious than was thought initially, and there are fears that the rot might spread to the prime market as well. Stocks have been plummeting worldwide, apart from a minor boost they received on the announcement of a Fed rate cut on Friday. This however seems to have been nothing more than a brief respite, and if today's performance is anything to go by, we're in for the long haul, as markets seem to be headed only one way at the moment, down. For India, a combination of pitiable Leftist tomfoolery (that has "left" the government's credibility in tatters and its future as anyone's guess) and a mass exodus of FII 'hot money' has lead to people being quite resigned in their
acceptance of this sudden erosion of the equity market.
Nowhere does this seem to be more the case than at my office. How much do you belabor the point? Everyone above the age of 10, with a average IQ, understands that this is not a good time at the stock market. The sup-prime crisis has been discussed to death. I'm sure my ten year old cousin could explain it to you, so pervasive is the madness.
What do you write then? How do you even give your article a headline to catch the reader's eye?It's quite a study in cynicism, patience and perspective, to see the editors at my office trying to answer these questions without tearing their hair out. How many times can you write "bloodbath" or " volatile" to describe events on Dalal street? Unstable markets is stale news. So what do you tell people? You don't raise their hopes because you're unsure yourself. Everyday seems to be more of the same. So in some senses, a 438 point drop becomes "just another day at the office." Nobody knows what the Fed is going to do, nobody knows how the Dow will behave on a certain day, so for all intents and purposes, nobody has a clue about anything. All we know is that markets seem to be falling almost everyday, and there doesn't seem to be a damn thing we can do about it.
"Hanging on in quiet desperation" I think captures the mood and sentiment of the country, and the editors of Business Standard will know, only too well, what you're talking about.

Mr.Mehra and the North

I have had the somewhat unique experience, in my short life, of being exposed to two completely different cultures within my own country. Coming from a South Indian background and being born in Madras(Chennai now), I have had occasion, to observe on a regular basis, both the people and the customs of the south. It also happens that I have lived all my life in the north, in Delhi to be particular, which, in turn, has allowed me to experience an altogether different way of living and thinking.
Going to school in Delhi the year round and then setting off on a summer vacation to Madras requires even youngsters to allow for a change of perspective and understanding. So I have, from quite an early age, been privy to this apparent difference in "philosophies" that defines the two metros. My family is a traditional, brahmin Iyer family, and going to school in DPS Mathura Road, that most ' Delhi ' of Delhi schools, only accentuated the differences for me. This upbringing ensured I imbibed a mix of what it meant to be a "Dilliwaalah" and a "Madraasi". Not that I, for a moment, hesitate to term myself a true northerner. I might have a few "tam bram" aspects to my character, but for the most past, I am as "Northern" as they come. I have embraced the "Northern" way far more naturally, and it seems to me rather more appealing .

The way of the north is to live life to the fullest, and nobody epitomizes this more than my dear neighbor, Mr.Mehra. Something that is bleedingly obvious about India is the diversity of its people, but Mr.Mehra, for me, captures what you would expect the stereotypical northerner to symbolize.
Mr.Mehra is 78 years old, and is a widower. I have known him now for the past six years, and am yet to have had a dull moment with him. His eyes still sparkle with all the joy and impudence of youth, and every word he utters is full of wit and intuition. He still works, on a 9 to 5 basis, 5 days a week and even drives himself to the factory in the mornings! The communists and labor unions are a pet peeve of his, and he doesn't hesitate to launch into a lengthy diatribe, berating their actions, at the drop of a hat. Mehra 'saab' still enjoys his whiskey and chicken, and regularly reminds me of the advisability of both of these as "fuel" to see you through life. Many a time I have seen him return, past midnight, driving his own car back home after one of his regular revelries.
Mr.Mehra loves to enjoy himself and never takes himself seriously. He is irresistible in his humor and quite schoolboyish about pulling someone's leg. Regularly advocating to my parents the need to get my sister and I married at the earliest, he will even offer to pay for our marriages. Another of his favorite teases is to rib my father about not paying enough rent for our flat, and this in front of our landlord! Quite oblivious to the embarrassment caused to both the present parties, he will have himself a good laugh and make sure the others laugh with him. He possesses an extraordinary gift for one-liners, delivered with an absolute deadpan look straight into the listeners eyes, with an alarming consistency. All in all, his life is full of zest. He aims to live it up to the end. Personal misfortunes, money matters or societal opinions have not been able to deter him from his simple quest of leading a happy and meaningful existence.

He typifies for me the essential qualities of the north, that are sorely missing in the south. A zest for life, and a perspective that you get only one shot at life, so live it well. The Southern brahmin does not know the meaning of fun, it is unheard of for people to be working beyond the age of 60, leave alone being well groomed and enjoying oneself in the evenings with a glass of whiskey in hand. The sheer conservatism and piousness of the south can be nauseating at times. They need to learn to have fun. Nietzsche wanted each one of us to dance at least once a day, if only this could be instilled in all of our dear old people of the south. How much does it take to have a good time? Mr.Mehra will surely shoot back, " Beta, if you are having anything at all, then it should be a good time, otherwise don't have anything at all."

The Song Is Over

People go through changes. This is established fact. Nobody goes through life without some alteration, either in his or her physical person, or in their "philosophy of life". The three things that define this change are the reasons for the change, the time period this change takes to take effect and the extent of the change in the person concerned.
There is unrequited love, people lose a job or win the lottery, someone close to their heart passes away, they're transferred, there's a change of government or you get married! Another good occasion for change is the beginning of the New Year. I personally feel the 11th of April or the 24th of September serve the purpose just as well, but people usually choose this time to make resolutions that they feel will serve as a catalyst for change. Birthdays can, at times, play the same role.

In my case, none of the above seems to have happened. It is also not the beginning of the year, though my birthday seems to be rearing its ugly head with an ever greater menace, as a possible omen, signaling the day as an auspicious one to initiate this change. I don't quite see too much change in myself though. For me, things seem to have changed, though I feel quite the same.
In that sense I feel uncomfortable, I'm not used to my surroundings, and with what's been happening. Things are not what they used to be. Everything feels different. But me, I'm still on the road, I am what I am. I am what I used to be. So I can safely say, I'm not "going through changes" in the sense that Ozzy Osbourne wrote about it.
But I thought things don't change do they? I've always heard it is people who change, not circumstances. What is it then? Is Ozzy right? Am I going through changes? Maybe I can never tell when I change; that would explain my assertion that I feel quite the same. But surely my actions would indicate if indeed I was undergoing some fundamental change? I certainly seem to be shedding some yolk, but I essentially feel the same. It might be a monumental shift in focus, in priorities, but I am the same person as before. Just the same way, Indians remained, in essence, the same, before and after Independence, even though, as Nehru thought of it, it was a "moment that comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when the age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance."
My own travails are but a trifle in front of so glorious an event, but the point I wish to make is that I feel much the same as Indians did before and after Independence. They were the same people before and after the fact, it was just that things changed around them. They could do more, think differently and live life in ways previously thought impossible. In much the same way, I am just the same as I was before, I just feel now that things are different.
In that sense, it feels like a song is over. I finished one song and I've started another. It is still me singing, just another song! And of course that song has different lyrics. The style is the same though! I am the same genre as before.
And people like different songs of yours, your parents like one song better than the other, your sis prefers another one, and your friends like you to keep playing the same song all the time. The artist though is always entitled to his personal favorite. I will, in times to come, look back at all my songs and have a favorite "song", until then I have to be content having ended a song and gone on to the next one. Maybe I'll regret it, maybe I won't. In Pink Floyd's words, " the time is gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say."

The Happiest Days Of Our Lives

They may come and they may go, but life goes on forever. Something in the way she moves, the Indian team had just won the match. Their news is good news as well, you got all the gifts you wanted. So many things matter to us if you think about it. So many chances, but still such few days. They are few and far between, but when it hits, it hits you hard. I spoke of the ordinary, now I'm happy.
The Beatles asked," Would you believe in love at first sight?" and John Lennon answered," Yes, I'm certain that it happens all the time. " John knew me, that's why. Happy days are here at last. Oh! cut it out will you?Don't let me down. It's all a blur. Slow down, you move too fast. You got to make the evening last. Just keeping on, the time's at hand. Coming to talk, you're feeling scary! Nothing to do, it's up to you. I've got nothing to say, but it's ok.
I don't know her from Eve, but I feel fine. Look into her eyes, do you see what I mean? What is the need for mescaline? We have this, our natural drugs. Should I take the trip? I don't have insurance. Where there's a will...
Unresolved, open ended, and rankling! Everybody knows there's nothing doing, everything is closed, it's like a ruin. Life I love you, all is groovy!

A Day In The Life

I saw a scene today oh, boy
It was a silly man who'd lost his head
And though the scene was rather bad
Well, I just had to laugh
I knew the silly chap
He blew his car out against a tree,
He didn't notice he was just a cook.
A crowd of people wondered why
They knew this chap so well
How on earth could he have done them such a hell?

I had a dream today oh, boy
The traffic cops had just caught the chap
A crowd of people unimpressed
But I just had to clap
Having seen the snap
I hate to see them go

Woke up, got out of bed
Felt my eyes and noticed they were red
Picked up the paper and saw the news
And waking up I realized I was wrong
Found my brain and came back to life
Saw the world and all it's strife
Found my way back to bed and closed my eyes
I thought it best to go back to my dream
Ahh

I saw a scene today oh, boy
A million problems in my neighborhood
And though the cook is not alone
They should have taken him
Now they know how everybody always goes to swim
I hate to see them go

Déjà Vu of the Ordinary

It's 4 o' clock on a Sunday afternoon. Sun streaming in through the windows on this mildly pleasant summer day. Hardly a person on the streets, but the young boy's playing cricket in the driveway. A few birds chirp, almost pleading for the sun to set. Things are quiet, the house is silent. I'm reading in the balcony, in glorious perspiration. I've been here before, I know that. I've done the same thing seven years ago.
Seven years on; for the better or worse only time will tell, but seven years nonetheless. Through crushes, through September 11th, through two board exams, three years in the United States, girlfriends, vacations, internships, Pete Sampras AND Roger Federer. And I remember the goddamn sunshine? The birds on a summer afternoon? The young boy playing cricket? Is it just me? Or have I been through this several times over?
I cannot relate to any of the things that I just mentioned in any way whatsoever. I cannot live them again. I will never go that way again, but the sunlight, the birds and the young boy, it's almost as if they never went away. I've lived with them all this while, it's all the same, so many years later. I'm comfortable, they reassure me. All's right with the world.
Why do I feel this way? Driving down roads you've driven over for 20 years, why should that give you any kicks? Doing the things you used to do day in and day out for 5 years, how come that matters so much? Weren't they just ordinary things? What's so great about the little insignificant things?
The traffic in Delhi, taking a rickshaw to the grocer's, going to the same barber shop you've been going to for 15 years, playing tennis on courts you've seen since you were 9 years old, going to eat ice cream at India Gate, and just putting your bed on a Sunday morning. This is the stuff that dreams are made of?? Really!
Memories are of the ordinary, I'd have them any day over the more "happy" moments in my life. Our lives are essentially happy in the ordinary. We don't need to have great things happen to us all the time, for these don't stick. They are few and far between, and are great while they last, but they just as soon can turn into the bad. Like Scott Fitzgerald, we "close out our interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men." The constancy of the ordinary though, is what keeps us going, and this is what we want to relive. We're indeed lucky to be able to relive the ordinary, however perverse this pleasure. This is who we are, and this is what we like. Isn't it lovely?

Return of the Jedi

Nietzsche would not have liked Star Wars. Unless maybe the Sith were portrayed as the good guys. Why though? Nietzsche wanted us to all be "Ubermensch" or Supermen and warned us against the coming of the "last man" who was "an apathetic creature, who has no great passion or commitment, who is unable to dream, who merely earns his living and keeps warm."
But how does one think of the last man and superman? Are they comparable to the Jedi and the Sith?
For the Jedi, as Yoda tells Anakin Skywalker,

There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no death; there is the Force.

Anakin though, as Padme makes sure, does not remain Jedi very long. He becomes Sith, expecting to draw from the dark side of the force to save Padme. The Sith preach that

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall set me free.

Nietzsche wanted us to dance. He wanted us to have passions. He wanted us to be supermen. Did he want us to be Sith? Are the Jedi really "last men" in some respects? What is the right way? There are a million different ways to live, but most philosophies preach one of two. You either be Jedi, or you be Supermen. You are either passionate or you have no passions. Emotional or detached, sensitive or stoic, serene or driven, austere or vital, simple or vibrant? You cannot be both can you?
You have the Ramayana contradicting Wagner, Gandhiji to oppose Byron and Blake, Buddhism to take on the Sith and of course Nietzsche to rival the Jedi. And who wins?
Oh how I wish Nietzsche could have met George Lucas. It might have solved half our problems. You want to dance or save the world? Love or know peace? Open yourself to being hurt and miserable or build an impregnable defence mechanism that no human can breach?

The throes of this struggle are disconcerting, to say the least. You are at your wits end in no time at all! Are the Sith the true "Supermen" and the Jedi in reality just "last men"?How does one reconcile the Ubermensch with the Jedi?How can Jedi become a pejorative? You would like to be Jedi, but if the Jedi returns, all your hopes of being Ubermensch are dashed. Last Man status is something we really can do without and you certainly don't want to be a Sith. You don't want people calling you "Darth"!
I am in the midst of this, I do not know if I should put on my Jedi cloak or reach for the stars and strive to be a "superman". I was striving for the Ubermensch for a while; I was passionate, I was emotional, it made me happy, but then it hurt. Now I am Jedi. I am a rock, and a rock feels no pain. An island never cries. But tell me, tis it not better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? Won't you please tell me?
In the end though, I don't think it matters. Hell is other people, Sartre said. And I don't think it is anymore apt than in this case. The Jedi returns if you want people to see it has returned. If you want people to believe you're not one of the "Last Men", you resemble the Ubermensch.
Everyone is chameleonic that way I guess. I especially so. The Jedi has returned temporarily, we're waiting for the Empire to Strike Back!

Tangled Up in Blue Part. 1

You think it would have happened several years ago, there were so many chances.It was obviously going to happen, but it never did. And when it did, we weren't ready, not by a long shot. I mean, when does lightning strike two years after a storm has passed? But lightning has this knack of striking hot during a midsummer night's dream, or was it winter? I do wish I'd remember. The point of the matter is that you've been waiting for something years and years and it was summer all along and then lightning strikes you when you least expect it, but summer remains, a few weeks pass..and then it hits you, by jove! that was a goddamn thunderbolt!
Of course it's no longer summer anymore, summer's gone..morphed into a desolate autumn...you're wondering when winter will come, all the while clinging to the lightning. The lightning keeps you going and by the time you know it, it's pouring..not the "raindrops keep falling on my head" kind, but more like a torrential downpour that you're absolutely flooded in, clinging on to a few branches for dear life!
And I was standin' on the side of the road
Rain fallin' on my shoes
Heading out for the East Coast
Lord knows I've paid some dues gettin' through,
Tangled up in blue.
That thunderbolt in the middle of summer has electrocuted you for better or worse and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Do they even treat these things nowadays? How silly I'd feel walking in to see a doc to say " I was hit! you see". "Well good for you" he'd say.
But how do you know what's good for you? The opposite of one profound truth is another profound truth they keep telling me. Is lightning good for you? Of course! Be spontaneous! blink! Live in the moment! What more is there to life? You're electrocuted!
Lightning? Of course not! What are you? Deluded? Grow up kid! This is the real world..electrocution means death! A thousand hopes and aspirations...all for what? So that you can die a slow death? We want you to burn out! And all the while you think the lightning is going to burn you out, it's nothing more than a simmer. You want flames, and all you get is embers. But they never quite go away. They're supposed to kill you, but somehow, it's masochistic, you seem to be enjoying this torturous experience. You think you might want to stop the fire, but there's no water to be found! How do you put out the flame? It's much like the Hotel California, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.
Meanwhile I endeavor to communicate with the The Rain God, the cause of the lightning that's electrocuting me and we make a pact.
She turned around to look at me
As I was walkin' away
I heard her say over my shoulder,
"We'll meet again someday on the avenue,"
Tangled up in blue.

Tangled Up in Blue Part. 2

It's been awhile, you're still burning. There were intermittent flames, but it was never quite about to be a conflagration. You've had firefighters for friends; all of them incompetent, bumbling fools. But that's what you think. How can one blame them? I mean who in the world can see eyeball to eyeball with the doing of a Rain God? The Rain God has its rivals too you know, but once you're struck, you will burn. In heaven or in hell, but you will burn!
So I'm burning, looking to put out the fire sometimes, reigniting it at other times. Such is my disposition, such is my plight. What am I to do? My death has been foretold by all and sundry. They mock you, they pity you, they offer to pay for your funeral even. Why should you fade to death? Why don't you burn out in one brilliant blaze of glory they say? Why do you want to go on burning in so inconsequential a manner? The fire was not my doing I say, "I was struck you see". I did not choose to burn, and so I cannot choose to stop burning.
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind,
I seen a lot of women
But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew
Tangled up in blue.
There are few people who understand burning in its simple, primordial form. Fire is as basic as it gets on this earth. Controlling fire might be beyond you, but you very well can decide whether it is hell or heaven you're burning in. I chose heaven, and it worked wonders. Not that the simmer changed into a forest fire overnight, far from that. But the Rain God was benevolent, bemused at this heaven you'd created for yourself amidst the carnage, but accepting of the limit of its powers.
How long will this idyllic situation last though? The Gods must be crazy! " Somewhere in my youth or childhood I must have done something good", a la Maria von Trapp, I thought! Of course this was but an illusion. Soon I was brought back to earth with a bang. Back from my fleeting blaze to the slow and steady embers that I was all too familiar with. The Rain God refused to even speak! You will die a slow death like everyone before you, was its proclamation.
It hasn't been summer for a long time now. Winter never came either. It was always autumn. For as long as you can remember it's been autumn. You expect this perennial autumn to continue until you're in a position to take on the Rain God on its own terms." We mortals never did fear taking on the Gods. We've won many a times. We will win again some day." And all of a sudden the autumn became spring. There were birds singing in the trees, people were out in the gardens. The human sound lent it's magical touch to the ears of everyone passing by. Flowers bloomed like never before. Paradise was regained, or maybe it was never lost in the first place. The Rain God had met its match, it wanted to negotiate.
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same,
We just saw it from a different point of view,
Tangled up in blue.

Something Fresh

Using the title of Wodehouse's first Blandings Story is the perfect way to start anew I guess. For mine is the Earth and everything that's in it, if I can start again at my beginnings, as Kipling says, and which is more, I'll be a man, your son! For long has the status quo remained, and who knows what tomorrow is to bring? We never quite did take it at the flood..but change is dynamic;an opportunity missed, when will we see the likes of it again? Stuck at the door, when will I reach the other side? Is there an other side at all? I'm sure I'll be lost..is this keeping me from going forward? The announcement is made, but the truth will out , sooner or later. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff they say, a false promise is like another nail in the coffin, the road to hell being paved with good intentions. But I soldier on nevertheless, and if a proposition for a new beginning is to gain any credence, then who are they to decide what is new and what is old? After all it's all just bricks in the wall...