Choice: A Symptom of Development

It has intrigued me for long enough to merit an article. I wish to explore choice as a means as well as a symptom of development. To my mind the term ‘development’ is a fascinating one. The literature available on the subject is intimidating, because in itself it embodies all that the whole world seems to strive to achieve.The UN underlined the importance of ‘choice’ in context of development when it stated that;

Human development is about much more than the rise or fall of national incomes. It is about creating an environment in which people can develop their full potential and lead productive, creative lives in accord with their needs and interests. People are the real wealth of nations. Development is thus about expanding the choices people have to lead lives that they value. And it is thus about much more than economic growth, which is only a means —if a very important one —of enlarging people’s choices.

Now that seems simple enough, the relevance of choice to development has been established, what remains doubtful is whether we in India have grasped the essence of the word ‘choice’. Do we in fact mistake the availability if opportunity with the availability of choice. And mind you there is a difference. To choose is to pick out the best of the available alternatives, while opportunity is merely a favorable time or situation for doing something. Let’s for a moment forget about opportunity and instead examine the definition of choice. It may seem to many that choosing what is best for yourself is the simplest thing in the world to do. Actually as a matter of fact that depends on which part of the world you are in. There exists what economists call the problem of ‘asymmetric information’ To make an intelligent choice is basically making an informed choice. In most of the developing countries including India, choices aren’t informed because (a) the information is inadequate (b) It is inaccurate or manipulated. This is not to say that there is no manipulation in presenting of information in developed nations however there exist other mechanisms which help them to mitigate any adverse choices. Coming to the available alternatives bit, development has always been relative. So turning the definition on its head, our concern really should be, are the alternatives available the best? In other words in a developed country your choosing the second best may not in fact harm your interest whereas in a country like India a wrong choice may cost you dear.

Let’s now go back, no not to the definition of opportunity but to that of human development as described by the UN. The word to take note of is ‘interests’. Therein lies the difference between choice and opportunity. So we might want to look at the BPO sector boom in India, in a different light. The Youth and the middleclass form the two most dynamic sections of the Indian society today. A lot of young people who belong to the middleclass are cashing in on this booming business. And why shouldn’t they? After all they are doing exactly what they need to do. Making good money. Where resources are scarce opportunities need to be grabbed. But is it a choice they are making? The story doesn’t end here. In fact it goes back further. Its not just our job market, even the education system, is an opportunity infested set up. The disparities in the quality ofeducation notwithstanding, even the crème of society is not making any real choices. At the +2 level most students opt for the science stream. Why? Yes they have the opportunity, unlike many of their less privileged counterparts, but if they were to choose humanities over science would they still be so confident about their future? It’s a favorable time to take science, so let’s take it. Interest can take a walk. We are driven by the best, but it is in fact a whole society that is taking advantage of the favorable times but the individual is not exactly exercising any choice-making esp. if the choice is not consistent with what the society thinks is best for you.

This is not really a doomsday prediction, as such points of reference are inconsequential to an economy and society that is evolving or on the ‘path of development’. The good news is that this ‘availing opportunity’ stage may be the predecessor of the stage of ‘choice making’ So making the best of the best available opportunities to us now may actually ensure that our future generations can make some real choices. Till then we should be content to describe ourselves as the country on the brink of ‘development’, and a billion choices away from ‘superpowerdom’.

'I' for India

It took just 15 minutes. But I knew that for once it was real. What 12 years of schooling and an innate sense of identity couldn’t do, 15 minutes of contemplation did. And in my mind’s eye India came alive. It all started with Ms Pratibha Patil. I was fully prepared to write a scathing commentary on a presidential poll that underlined the integrity-less nature of Indian politics. But it never came. Somewhere the usual gave way to the unusual and unexpected. It’s I presume a bad time to feel and proclaim your love for your country and to actually write an article on it( even a 60 th independence day does not sound like a good excuse to bore you with another India –the-Great article)So anyway why not start from the presidential election itself. It might have been a shameless exercise in politics that is morally bankrupt but there is something more to it than what meets the eye. Shift your focus to the last presidential election where Dr. APJ Kalam, a renowned scientist i.e. respected figure, was the consensus candidate and (pinch yourself) maintained that reputation for his entire tenure as president. For a  whole five years you almost believed the country had grown up, And here we are again!

I say we because we are after all a very ‘we the people kind’ of nation or simply democratic. Democracy may mean lots of different things to different people, but a non-prudish definition could be the right to, be wrong, to make mistakes, as people, and we sure have made many. The inconsistency that we display in our political affairs is a testimony of our youth as a nation. There is a crackling vitality about India, something or the other is always brewing beneath the collage of everyday life. We are dynamic, though not necessarily always in the progressive sense of the word. We are a country that is in battle with itself. It would of course be hard to validate everything that forms our history, but look a bit carefully and it becomes clear that India’s history is one, where we have always tried to take everybody along at all times. If not successfully there has at least been an effort. Our annals are not marred by a Holocaust or a Communist Repression, a war we started, or even a Great Depression. How can you not love a country like this?

Frankly my generation is one which has been almost a movie audience to India’s past. We may admire the manner in which our nation has come together, but we can only love our country for what it is rather than was or is going to be. I never took to the word ‘patriotism’ partly because it’s so difficult to pronounce and more importantly because love is so much simpler easier, and something I feel capable of feeling. When I close my eyes, I see the country I have known, seen and lived in. It is not a day older than me. There is no kali like mother figure that flashes in my mind or a slave genie which shall provide for everything I want. A cross between parent and friend comes closest to describing India for me and somehow that’s what makes the relation a personal one. I for one know that neither my friends nor parents have ever come close to being perfect. It’s a notion I don’t seek to justify. I cannot ask you to love potholed roads, a piece of land or even a burgeoning Sensex, I can only ask you to look upon India for what it is. For what you are. An ambitious, reckless restless youth making its way in the world. But Living. For who knows life may begin at 60!

A Lost 'Cult'

There is a standing comedian’s joke which goes like, when our descendants carry out excavations, they would find CDs and mistake them for the plates we ate in. A joke it may be, but it was worth a ‘ponder’. This is one of the less tangible effects of commercialization of our lives from A to Z where the C stands for culture. People are so obsessed with their ‘now’, what we are leaving behind as people as a generation, is all but forgotten. Culture of course is not of the dead but a way of living. Arts, Architecture, dance and music which define a culture seem to be dying a slow death somewhere and I suspect its more in the minds of people than anywhere else.

Now you may argue that we have what is called mass culture. From being a domain of the exclusive club the arts have now come to the common man. I agree. However somewhere the fear lingers, that commercialization has meant that instead of being an appreciative audience to the artistic expressions of others we are now aiming to become owners of it. And unfortunately what is being offered to us, lends itself to being owned…from wallpapers (I mean on your computer) to ring tones, music at discos I wouldn’t know which category to place them in. Aren’t they just our lifestyle accessories? So what is the culture- quotient of your life?

Other areas of human life have acquired greater significance; prime among them is science and technology. Even though in earlier times too the two, i.e. science and arts coexisted, today science has infiltrated culture. It has undeniably made our lives more comfortable, but I wouldn’t be so optimistic about its impact on creative expression. Our chief guiding principle has become ‘consuming’ rather than ‘creating’. While science is allowing everybody and anybody to become a Picasso (what? a new software which can be used to create “Picasso paintings’) commerce has made sure very Picasso needs a Wal-Mart. Every good author needs a high end publishing house; a good artist needs to be visible in the media and so on.

Times change, and change is the essence of life. Culture is a way of life, so cultures evolve. Or maybe they don’t, as it seems in the case of the arts; there have been changes, but these changes have come from outside the realm of arts. In fact changes by themselves are scalars while progress is a vector. The progress of the arts does not lie in piggy riding on the progress in other fields. The arts represent the pinnacle of creative achievement in all ages In today’s fast paced world the stagnancy that our cultural life has witnessed could prove to be fatal to it. This would mean a serious dent to our identity as a people, maybe even its loss.

Addressing Anonymous

There is a certain romance, an air of mystery that surrounds the ‘anonymous author’, almost akin to that felt when one stands before the flame dedicated to the Unknown Soldier. What is it about the ‘A’ word that arouses the tinge of dissatisfaction that it does. The lack of a personal touch perhaps. For most people reading a piece is a personal exercise, a mute discourse with the person whose ideas have engaged his time and attention. A piece that moves you, which you identify with or even one whose humor obtains your seal of approval (read laughter) leads you to wonder about the individual behind the name who has been able to invoke such emotions in you. 

Anonymous may signify a dead end in this regard, however it is in fact a challenge to your imagination.The questions that can be asked are many. How much of an author’s personality is stamped in his work? Can you conjure up a caricature of the author through his work? Would it not be interesting to expend some of your imagination on what or who the nameless, faceless person is? Would that be the truest comment on the author, unmarred by the considerations of background, times or gender, based solely on the intensity of his/ her ideas?

In the world of anonymity, the concept of a pseudo name offers a brighter prospect of gaining familiarity with the elusive author. An anonymous and a pseudo name differ in many respects. Chiefly it can be said that while a pseudo name is a form of anonymity, anonymous is certainly not a pseudo name. You may come across another anonymous write up and never know if the anonymous-es were the same. On the other hand, a series of works could be published under a pseudo name.

This may sound a tad bit more interesting if you were aware of the fact that Mark Twain, Charlotte Bronte, Ayn Rand, Saki and even Voltaire were actually pseudo names. A pseudo name is a story waiting to be told. The reasons why an author would distance himself from his work by adopting a pseudo are myriad. Why Alisa Zinov’yevna Rosenbaum would want to be published as Ayn Rand is not hard to fathom, however there exist more complex reasons like wanting to disassociate yourself from the views expressed. So Salman Rushdie may have considered ‘Saldie’ if he cared enough for his head or if he belonged to the fairer sex.

Virginia Woolfe’s remark ‘For most of history, anonymous was a woman’ holds true in context of women authors who adopted names of men in order to be taken seriously. Though the concept of anonymity may have become redundant today, what with the onslaught of information technology, the emergence of liberal polities and the right to freedom of expression finding their rightful places world over. Yet the ‘A’ factor refuses to go away. Ever wondered where those forwarded messages on your cell phone come from?

MU-SIC(K)

The music definitely struck a chord. Unfortunately the wrong one. Tirades against remixes are now passé, remixes are now popular culture. Sometimes I wonder if popularity precludes debate and discussion. What I intend to do here definitely precludes any two way interaction, because I have chosen a self conceited form of expression called an article which I shall use as an excuse to be opinionated about something that I love enough to be opinionated about. Music.

I am sure I share the passion for music with many many people. There is something about music that completely takes you. Of course it is right up there, a recognized form of Art. And like all forms of art, the basic uncorrupted desire for perfection and beauty that music manifests, is what really enchants the human perception. A whole lot of highly worded ideals you may say, so I shall just do a simpler analogy. Now every musical piece has three essentials, the melody or rhythm, the words the lyrics and the spirit.

Leaving aside instrumental music which I think is composed of self-explanatory ‘notes’, the music that we encounter in our daily life, is complete with the words. Have you ever asked yourself why you like the kind of music you do? Maybe it’s the tune, maybe it’s the words…or maybe it’s both! As I have discovered, my own preferences lie in my heart and mind. Romantic as it may sound, it is not really just another cliché. The beating of the heart for me defines man’s urge for the making and savouring of all that is perfect in terms of its symmetry and pattern. Isn’t that what ‘beat’ is all about? In fact ever noticed how when in conversation, the bits that we appreciate most or get our most vigorous nods are those which we relate to, something which somewhere reflects our own reality? Ever gone to a disc and felt the dance beats, reverberate inside your own rib cage? Of course in discs the words are hardly of any concern, so there is also very low probability that you would fall in love with a song you first heard at a disc. Incidentally most people describe their dancing bouts at discs as ‘dancing like crazy’, which essentially further reduces the probability of your falling in love with a song there, since your brain anyway is not as interested in functioning as you are interested in impressing the cute guy/gal in the other group with your moves. So am I suggesting that even appreciating music requires brains?? Absolutely not. It just requires any brain, in fact the uniqueness of your grey- matter matters a lot here. What makes a song special to you is the kaleidoscope of memories, thoughts and sometimes fantasies that it conjures in your mind’s eye. Which is why I believe having your own choice in music is part of your person, you may copy song choices but you can’t really do the memory/thought/fantasy transfer business- yet.

My point is simply this, the rhythm of music appeals to your heart while the words even though they may touch your heart, are brought to life by your mind. Personally I would move to anything that makes me want to move, but I like only those songs whose words make sense to me, but those pieces which are really unforgettable are those whose spirit make me feel alive. The spirit of a song may sound like an insane idea, but it is actually the premise of the crime I am about to describe. Ok so maybe it is not a crime under any code, but what would you call lyrics like- babay where did you get your body from? Babay if you strip, you can get a tip cos I like you just the way you are… When are you going to give it up to me? I mean come on, why even use any words, just scream SEX! SEX! SEX! and get over with the song damn it. Frankly its not the overbearing ‘ I want to have sex with that hot girl/s / mama / s tone that I find nauseating, it’s the fact that the spirit of the song is not even sex. I have heard enough music to vouch for the existence of songs which musi-fy the same feelings of want, desire and lust without making you sick. To me the spirit of these songs can be best described in one word – F*@#. Considering how often that word has been used in the songs I am referring to, I am surprised we still use those beautiful graphics to spell it. Which brings me to another feature of this kind of music- repetition of words, lyrics and well noises – sometimes it really sounds like a woman faking an orgasm. The most creative lyrics I have come upon till now are from Will I Am (which grade English man?); In answer to his profound question- Babay where did you get your body from? The babay/s reply: I got it from my mama (Babay repeats this three times, I think the music director if there was one thought it sounded good. It did. but anything said in that ‘come and get me’ tone of a woman would) Taking the profundity to a new level the song then goes on to explain how “ if the girl really pretty, I guarantee she is pretty like her mama… if the mama really ugly I guarantee she is going to be ugly like her mama. Really??

For a moment let me leave the- it hurts my musical sensibilities argument aside, it even hurts my sensibilities as a woman. I have heard some very snide comments about the portrayal of woman in Hindi cinema and post-Ekta Kapoor in Indian Television, as being highly derogatory in nature. What with saree- clad sati savitris and sorry storylines. At the same time I have followed the music scene on the other side of the world from the time I learnt English- their English I mean. But from ‘Living Next Door to Alice’ to ‘ I Wanna Love You’ the tone and tenor of the songs have definitely undergone a not-so-subtle change ( the not-so-subtle bit can also be applied to Akon’s ‘I Wanna Love you’. Every time I hear one of those songs, I can almost see myself in da club, with men high on testosterone (or maybe Viagra) and women in as little clothes as there is sense in the song, waiting to be picked up. Yes! Waiting to be picked up, by the first man who calls her body sexy. The nausea that washes over my conscience is my tribute to feminism. Let us not forget that music after all is a product of a culture. If musical pornography has infiltrated the west, how can India be far ‘behind’? In my two decades of belonging to a generation which thinks it’s moral to ape the west, but immoral to admit you ape, for the first time I feel a disconnect. The Cultural Gap just got outsourced.

-19 years, 2007

Tears in a Desert

In the silent stony sands lies buried its fury,

In the play of the winds is carved its shapeless beauty,

The abyss prevailing as deep as its haunting vastness,

And life slips like the grains clutched in helplessness…

He walks. He stops. He looks. He hears.

The thirst is a scream against his ears,

The last meal. He struggles to remember…

In his stomach it’s now a burning ember.

You make your destiny, they all say…

The world belongs to those who find their way.

He had prepared for the journey, but this defeat?

He couldn’t understand, he had not chosen it.

Show me! Show me the miracle I seek,

Make me believe that thou are not weak

Here I am, the wounded soldier of the lord,

Not the martyr of an unforgiving God…

Water! In his eyes, a glint of madness, its reflection 

Alas! The water, the hope, the faith is an illusion

His soul alight, his words the cackle of dry leaves.

Of what use, a sky that on my grave grieves?

 Till the heavens open up above me,

Or from the depths of the earth life springs free

Like this I shall wait, I shall not fall

Let the lord know, the spirit of man stands tall…

But hollow barks shall break, broken was he,

Man must nurture a supple faith, a special tree.

They glistened on his palm, the light shone,

 In the dark of his eye, hope was sown.

Let not the soul within die,

My god is as strong as I.

-19 years, 2007