Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts

Thursday, January 12, 2012

The hitching post and the missing horse

After many years in the land of the free, the first thing that I missed after coming back home to India, was a good hamburger. No one knows how to make a good hamburger like the Americans do. And gradually, I realized that there were other things that I missed -- a good pizza, a good beer -- and the super-ball Sundays, with their own fair share of pizza and beer.

And slowly, as I settled back, the list of the things from the land of the free that I missed, started shrinking. Mainly, because in India, I could get a pretty good pizza, and a pretty good beer. And that despicable game of cricket, sometimes offered the promise of sporadic violence. Just like football used to.

But there is something that I just can't find in India, however hard I look. And I must admit that I do miss it quite a bit, since it is probably the only political philosophy that I have ever found myself believing in. It really disappoints me a lot that in a country such as ours, with a glorious past of incompetent governments and nincompoops doubling as rulers, we have never once been attracted to the philosophy of Libertarianism. 

Libertarianism is all about respecting the liberties of the individual over the idiosyncrasies of the powers that be. In my pedestrian way of looking at things, Libertarianism is all about saying "Bah Humbug" to the government, its policies, and primarily, to the act through which it subjugates us all -- taxation.

The land of the free is going to elect a president soon. And the republicans, are leaving no stone unturned to select a candidate in the primaries, who can take on Mr. Obama. Perhaps, for the forty fifth time over, Mr. Ron Paul, the eternal Libertarian candidate, has thrown his hat in the ring. And perhaps, for the forty fifth time over, Desi Babu, has started hoping that he wins the nomination, and eventually, becomes the president of the mighty land of the free.

Mr. Paul, like our own Mr. Anna Hazare, has a huge fan following amongst the young and the disenchanted. People, who are most likely to be at the forefront of a democratic change, which is sometimes overstated as a revolution. But Mr. Paul, has been around in American politics for quite some time.  And before he started kissing babies to solicit votes, he was delivering them, as a full-time pediatrician in the great state of Texas.

In American politics, Mr. Paul has the unique distinction  -- of saying it aloud -- that the emperor has no clothes. And there are many, who are beginning to listen to him.

To republican hawks, the military is the backbone of American leadership in the world. To libertarians, it is a huge financial liability, that should be trimmed substantially, to save the country. To democrats, big government spending, as in the days of FDR, is the only thing that can rescue the United States from penury. To libertarians, both government and spending are evil, and a dramatic reduction in both is the only way to save America. Mr. Paul, has spoken time and again, against a big government, a large military, and a huge debt, brought about by the indiscriminate printing of a fiat currency, that the rest of the world cannot seem to have enough of.

Perhaps, when Mr. Paul did not get adequate coverage in mainstream media, in spite of consistently making it to the top three in the Iowa and New Hampshire primaries, it did raise quite a few eyebrows, even amongst his detractors, about the fairness of the system, that elects America's president. It remains to be seen if Mr. Paul's train will keep chugging along, with new coal being brought by hordes of young Americans, who are looking for an alternative to both Republicans and Democrats. There is talk that if Mr. Paul does not win the republican nomination, he will accept the Libertarian ticket this time, which has been kept reserved for him, many times in the past.

One of my libertarian friends had once lectured me about the libertarian character of the United States. The kind that comes from hanging around small town drugstores, talking about guns and the second amendment, and the rights of the people to keep Washington out of their bedrooms. And, he had told me about the need to have a hitching post in every small town, so someone riding a horse could "park" his "vehicle", just like public parking is made available to other taxpayers, who too are "looted" by the government for no reason at all.

It did make sense to me at that time. If I had a horse, and, if I did not have a car. I would definitely look for a hitching post. When I rode my horse to the town square, to visit the drugstore. And to talk about my second amendment rights with my buddies, who I am sure, would have liked their own hitching posts. For their horses.
 
In India, there have been multiple times when we  have lived with little or no government, or with completely incompetent governments. In fact, it would not be terribly wrong to say that we currently live in such exciting times. I have always wondered why Indians have never been open Libertarians.

Perhaps, centuries of repression under various governments prevents us from openly questioning the need for a government. Perhaps, we are nonchalant, because most of us don't pay any taxes, and so, don't particularly give a hoot if the government blows our money on alcohol and hookers. Or perhaps, we never bothered to retain the hitching posts for the missing horses in our city centers, as cars, trains and buses took over our lives. With the promise to deliver us somewhere, as long as we delivered a part of our paychecks, to the government.

Perhaps, someday, we will have our own Ron Paul. To tell us, that the emperor wears no clothes. At all.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Astrologers: then and now

Cricket has changed a lot in the last few decades. I remember the days when cricket matches would be played over  five long days. People would be dressed in all-whites, and no one could even imagine that a small patch of colorful advertising would adorn the sparkling flannels. The matches would be played all day, under natural light. And between the five days, there would be a day for rest, as the gentlemen who played, needed to put their feet up and smoke their pipes. And, drink their whiskey.

Right now, Indians don't have time for anything. The entire country will come to a standstill for the final game of the cricket world cup this afternoon. As cricket has become more popular amongst the masses, their superstitions have found their way into cricket as well. Recently, a bunch of people in a small town somewhere in north India, got together to propitiate the gods by making a fire offering (yajna) with a bunch of priests chanting from the Vedas. In the old days, they used to do this stuff to please the rain-god during droughts. Nowadays, it is done to get more runs and wickets.

And then, there are the astrologers. I came across an interesting news story on an astrologer's prediction on who will win the world cup. Looks like Jupiter and Saturn have a new job now, given that the recession has taken a toll on every body's day job. So, the planets are now being used to predict the results of  big games. I am not very surprised, since the amount of money involved in the cricket matches now can easily surpass the GDP of a small country. As Kenneth Grahame would probably say, "There definitely is a lot of wind in the willows".

And, it is quite a strange coincidence that recently, I have been browsing through the pages of a really old journal. It is called the "Asiatic Journal and Monthly Register".

 

It was published in the year 1831, and it has many beautiful accounts of the journeys made by the colonials in an India that was still not officially a part of the British empire. These are the stories of a different time, and of a world which may be a part of my history, but a world that I can scarcely identify with. And there, buried between voluminous accounts of various journeys, I found a piece of gem on Indian astrologers in the year 1831!


It did bring a smile to my lips that back then, we still had these smooth operators predicting the arrival of pestilence and rainfall. Looks like they eventually made a fiscally prudent transition to the game of cricket. Jupiter would be so proud!

Friday, December 24, 2010

Merry Christmas!

I was taking a walk with my wife on the pavement of the main street of a small town in north India. We crossed the only church in the town and there was a big crowd of nicely dressed people, getting ready to attend the midnight mass. Outside, there were the usual vendors in any small town in India. People selling peanuts, golgappas and sweets. A guy carrying a bunch of brightly colored balloons was approaching us.

"Merry Christmas!", he said. We greeted him back and started looking at the balloons. I was a little curious and so, I asked,"Aapko pata hai Merry Christmas ka matlab?" (Do you know what Merry Christmas means?). He looked a little embarrased, "Pata hai sahib. Main Christian nahin hoon. Yeah mera tyohar nahin hain. Mujhe nahin bolna chahiye meri christmas." (I know Sahib. I am not a Christian. This is not my festival. I shouldn't say My Christmas).

The Hindi word for My is Meri, which sounds very similar to Merry, as in Merry Christmas.

Me  and my wife exchanged a very brief glance. I was feeling a little naughty. So, I suggested to him, "Tab, shayed aapko kahna chahiye, Teri Christmas." (Then may be, you should say your Christmas.) Teri refers to a slightly disrespectful form of "you", usually reserved for children and close friends. He smiled back, "Nahin Sahib, thodi izzat ke sath bolna chahiye". (No Sahib, we should speak with some respect).

We bought a few balloons and resumed our walk. Behind us, we could hear the balloon-man approaching the next customer. He was shouting, "Aap-ki Christmas! Aap-ki Christmas!"(Your Christmas! Your Christmas!). He was using the respectful form of "you". There were puzzled looks all around.

My wife was giving me one of her furious stares. I whispered, "It sort of sounds like Happy Christmas from here. I think he will do just fine".

To all of you, everywhere. In all languages. Merry Christmas!

Friday, December 10, 2010

The Peanut Express

Many years ago, I took a train from nowhere to nowhere.

No, really. It was an amazing journey. I was traveling to a place called Ranchi in the state of Jharkhand (It used to be Bihar back then). I took the night train from Calcutta and that being the month of May, when the orange sun turns red, I was hoping to get some cool mountain air in Ranchi. There is this place called Muri Junction, about sixty kilometers from Ranchi, where the plains end and the mountains start. In those days, they would stop the train for an hour and change the engine, as if they were feeding the mules before the tough trek began. Sometimes, the mules would refuse to budge and there would be a two hour delay. Then, they would stop the overnight train and let the other trains pass, since those would be the ones on time. After a while, an hour would turn into a few hours, and sometimes, half a day. This was one such half a day.

A fellow passenger asked me what I was going to do in Ranchi. When he heard that I was simply escaping Calcutta for the hills, he suggested that I try a quieter place called Hazaribagh. Apparently, I could just hop on to a passenger train from Muri and go to a place called Ramgarh, though not the same one where Gabbar Singh once lived and (presumably) died. This was a different Ramgarh, but I could take a bus from there to Hazaribagh, which according to him was cool enough to shelter a thousand tigers at this time of the year. It just happened to be a coincidence that the passenger train was on the next track and ready to go. I was not known to be an impulsive creature. In fact, if I ever faced the dilemma of Mr. Indiana Jones, on whether I should jump off a cliff to escape a group of marauding cannibals, I would have probably opened my book on negotiations and patiently read Chapter 12 on Negotiating as if your life depends on it.

But this, was a different day.

The Muri-Barkakana Passenger, as it was officially known, became my ride to the city where a thousand tigers were waiting for me. As I found out later, it was popularly known as the Moongphali Express, or The Peanut Express, since the floors were seldom swept and were full of peanut shells. But this train changed my entire perspective on life, and how to live it. By writing this blog, I am simply paying tribute to the many nameless passengers I travelled with on that fateful day, when,  like the Buddha, I attained my own Nirvana.

Bihar was an extremely poor state with a complete lack of governance. The southern part of it, where I was travelling was the neglected stepchild. Yet, when the engine hooted, a lot of people I was travelling with clapped with joy. I found much later that Italians applaud when airplanes land. Apparently, they too are a very happy group of people. After a while, I realized that I had lucked out. I was actually traveling on a train pulled by a steam-engine. It is every schoolboy's fantasy to ride on a steam engine, I actually got to ride on one that would get phased out in a few years. And my fellow passengers were totally oblivious to how spoilt they were. 

My fellow passengers could actually be described by the phrase "motley crowd" very well. There were a few well dressed people, probably government employees in this part of the world. Then, there were a bunch of people who looked like miners that had just finished the night shift, since they were all covered in dust and soot. There were farmers, with their vegetable baskets. And yes, there was a guy carrying a small goat. You simply could not travel on a train in Bihar in those days, and not see the guy with the goat. He just had to be there. There was a cauliflower lady, about whom, I will write a separate post some other day. And there was a ticket checker, who did not check any tickets.

In that three hour journey on that day, I came as close to seeing a boatload of happy people (no pun intended) as I have ever seen in my life. These were poor people back then, and unless there has been a real estate boom in the backwaters of Jharkhand since, they must be poor people now. Since then, I have travelled halfway across the world, met people from many cultures, seen the stock market go up and down many times, seen a few booms and busts and become a more sombre human being, as far as looking at life goes. I have tried to search for happiness amongst things around me, but I don't remember seeing such a happy group of people ever again.

In my Blog, I will try to write about those people on the peanut express and why I think they were so happy that day.  I will also write about the things that make me happy or sad or the various shades of gray in between.

Today's India is intimidating. There are no tigers left for Jim Corbett to shoot, and the  people responsible, are probably scarier than anything Mr. Corbett would sign up to shoot. The gray mountains of  Ruskin Bond are dug up for iron and steel that can be shipped to China for the cheap bicycle in my neighborhood store. R.K. Narayan's Malgudi has a few high-rise buildings now and I hear the local MP is pitching for a three lane bypass to the six-lane highway, where the archaeologist, Dr. Bandhopadhyaya, dug up the Roman statue. And, Mr. Khushwant Singh is writing about what it means to be old, in an India, that is getting old.

Stay tuned, I will be here, sharing my thoughts of the India that I love and miss. More later...