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The state government arrested her and force-fed her through a pipe attached to her nose. Further, they booked her for “attempt to commit suicide’. As is the case with the mainstream media, they didn’t pick up this extraordinary story because it was unfolding in Manipur, far from ‘mainland’ India. This continued for 6 years till Sharmila decided to come to Delhi where she believed her case would get more exposure. She was surreptitiously smuggled out of Manipur by her brother and continued her fast outside Jantar mantar. After a few days the police once again arrested her and shifted her to the All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS) and once again a tube was inserted in a nose.

Something else happened in Manipur. In 2004 a group of women assembled outside the headquarters of the Assam Rifles (the main paramilitary outfit operating in the NE). They were all naked and held aloft signs that read ‘Indian Army, Rape us’, ‘Take our bodies’. They were protesting the death of a woman who had been picked up by the Assam Rifles and allegedly raped in their custody. The soldiers claimed that she was a wanted militant. These women also wanted AFSPA withdrawn because they were sick of living under the military jackboot.

Back to the dingy room in AIIMS where Sharmila is confined. The last six years have taken a toll on Sharmila’s health. She is allowed to take a walk in the corridor outside her room assisted by the guards who are posted 24/7 outside her room. When she is not reading she practices yoga to keep herself in some sort of health. There have been a few articles here and there in the papers. Her story has been documented in the non-mainstream print and online media though. She hasn’t met her mother in 5 years because her mother couldn’t bear to see her daughter in the state she is in.

Sharmila’s amazing struggle against the might of the Indian state is a story worth telling. The media has gone ga-ga over ‘gandhigiri’ with silly stories doing the rounds about how gandhigiri is sweeping the nation. But when it comes to an innovative form of gandhian protest it is strangely silent.

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But surely India is a more politically open country. Or is it? If Tibetans are Indian citizens (and most of them are) they should be able to express their dissent. It is guaranteed by the constitution. But the government, perhaps not wanting to displease the Chinese, muzzled the rights of the Tibetans. Let us remember that China is an aggressive nation that has border disputes with all its neighbours. It has claimed Arunachal Pradesh on the spurious grounds that a Panchen Lama was born there and until recently refused to recognize Sikkim as a part of India and they still hold parts of Kashmir. Going by the same logic my great grand uncle’s nephew was born in Beijing, so I will claim Beijing as a part of India! Ridiculous.

I wonder what it must feel like not to belong. Not knowing your own country. Knowing that your land and people are not free. Knowing that there is no hope of returning to it. Despite celebrity endorsement, the “Free Tibet” movement is a lost cause (at least for the time being) caught as it is between the cleft stick of a pacifist Dalai Lama and an increasingly restless younger generation. Despite Richard Gere lending it charm and sex appeal, which country has dared to challenge China on its occupation or human rights record in Tibet? Countries and corporations will put economics before human dignity because all want a piece of the Chinese economic miracle.

Till now the Tibetan community in India was secure in the knowledge that this country was a democracy where rights were by and large respected. That confidence will be just a wee bit shaken now.

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The bastards who did this will all cry in front of the TV cameras and say they didn’t intend to do it, that it was all a mistake and then work their way around the courts. Because they are rich enough to hire expensive lawyers who know how to beat the system. Already, the lawyer of the guy who was driving (Alistair Parreira) has said “What happened was unfortunate, but it was an accident and not intentional.” Not intentional!!! You moron, your client may not have intended it, but six people are DEAD. And he has to pay the price. Listen to Alistair’s uncle: The car was speeding and anything could have happened to the youngsters. Allistair blamed the car instead.

Welcome to India my friend. The land of the 5000 year old civilisation, the land of Gandhi and JP Narayanan, the next world superpower. Oh yeah, did someone mention the fact that if you are rich you get away with murder (literally) and if you are poor your conditions are so wretched you wish you were dead. There are enough rich drunken people out there willing to oblige.

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I can understand the sentiment behind the move. In a fast globalizing world, where identities and cultures are changing at a rapid pace the fear of losing one’s own identity is a very real one. Whether that fear is real or misplaced is an entirely different issue. Last year when I was at Ranga Shankara (a premier theatre festival in Bangalore) a Kannadiga complained to me how the crowd at the venue (a swanky auditorium) was “so English speaking without a trace of Kannada. The couples here kiss openly,” this gentleman recounted in horror. At that time I argued with him, but I suspect my arguments didn’t have much impact.

I just wish that these people would engage with issues of culture and identity in a deeper way. This business of renaming cities is such a superficial way of asserting yourself that its laughable. For now it looks like the ‘digs’ have won (what a Pyhrric victory).

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The only place where Muslims are over-represented are prisons. The share of Muslims in prison for petty and serious crime is way above their proportional share in the population. A mixture of prejudice and apathy on the part of the authorities and a failure of Muslims to show determination to move out of their plight is maybe responsible for this state of affairs. The condition of Muslims in India is not very different from the condition of Afro-Americans in USA.

The current state of affairs cannot continue. 15 % of India’s population cannot be allowed to languish at the bottom of the socio-economic table and not expect serious repercussions in the future. The government should take concrete steps to improve the lot of Muslims. The time for cosmetic measures of the Mulayam Singh Yadav variety is long past. Something has to be done NOW.

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4. Ignorance of People skills: These are those brilliant minds that know not what to say and where. That are totally tongue tied with strangers and turn mute if forced into a group that contains members of the opposite sex. Social inhibition, conservative atmosphere of Indian society and lack of training in leadership skills at school level all contribute to this.

5. Ignorance of social etiquette: Coming to a corporate meeting unshaven while wearing bathroom slippers maybe “cool” but never “acceptable”.

6. Lack of adaptability: Cannot adapt to change of town, much less change of country. If based abroad, they never try to integrate or embrace the local culture.

7. Trend chasing: Running after whichever technology is hot this season and doing a course for certification in it, irrespective of aptitude and career plan. Examples include Y2K, e-commerce, .net, Cold Fusion…the list goes on…most prominent is SAP consultancy. Every dissatisfied IT engineer wants to do a SAP course since SAP implementation jobs are high paying whereas it contributes little to the resume in the long-run.

8. Functional Cocoons: This category of techies has such a high degree of specialisation that they never invest in enhancing their skills.

9. Directionless jobhopping: Frequently changing jobs for no reason except higher pay. No focus on career planning or personal development is noticeable.

10. Poor language skills: Inability to describe effectively even the projects that they’ve completed as students, in comprehensible English, or even in their mother tongues.

These 10 ghosts of sins past haunt the Indian IT industry. The ten heads of the demon that ferment and grow in uninspiring Indian IT factories.

We need a change, we sure do.

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The scientist showed us pictures he took at the Indian station and narrated anecdotes about his visit. Also, interesting facts about the white continent. But, I felt that the underlying message of the talk was “This is a continent that is lying unexplored and unexploited. Something has to be done.”

He kept harping on the fact that there is no tourism to Antarctica from India. The fact that 10,000 tourists, mainly from S. Africa, Australia, N. Zealand, visit Antarctica made it all the more regrettable. The terms in which he framed it, it was like the nation was getting left behind in the scramble to “exploit” Antarctica.

There was one moment during the slide show that was particularly revealing. There was a ‘science cartoon’ of a penguin talking to a scientist (presumably an Indian) set against the icy, frigid landscape. The penguin says, “Looking at you I feel I have wasted my life here. No job, no money, no comforts. When you next go home to New Delhi take my son along with you so that he can become a scientist.”

There are several narratives that can be interpolated from this cartoon: science as the ultimate aim of society, looking at the things outside the realm of science as essentially “wasted”, scientific research or achievement as the desired goal, looking at a “non-scientific” way of living, and all the imagined attributes that accompany it like ‘sloth’, ‘carefree’, ‘easygoing’, as undesirable and a desire to correct this.

There was another revealing moment. Giving the reasons for harmony in the Indian station, as compared to other countries’ stations, he said that “the great women of the Indian nation hold together the family bonds for the progress of the nation.” Harmonious social relations and infact even the progress of the nation has been yoked to the women of the nation, like a cart is hitched to a bullock for its physical progress.

Science is supposed to be liberating; it was born in the crucible of enlightenment values and opposition to religious dogma. But has science now itself become a dogmatic religion which sees the world lying outside its realm with disdain, to be colonised, for the purpose of progress, progress of the nation?

Antarctica is the last wilderness on Earth, a land untouched by man or science. The icy, bleak landscape is threatening and exhilarating at the same time. Is this one reason that Science wants to colonise this continent? Why can’t penguins live their boring, unscientific lives? Why can’t the mountains and moss and seals live in peace? Why does progress of the nation depend on women performing a particular kind of role; that of holding the bonds of family togeher and civilizing the brute man?

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I first encountered the cyclerickshaws and felt a personal aversion to riding in one. A cyclerickshaw is basically a three wheeled contraption which resembles a bicycle with a large carriage at the back to carry people. The rickshaw is peddled by the driver who is thin and emaciated from the physical toil. There are thousands of cyclerickshaws on Lucknow’s streets.

Now this is the problem I had: There was an odd sense of guilt in riding one. The rickshaw driver cycles all day and late into the night in all seasons. And in Lucknow the seasons can get pretty extreme with brutal bone jarring summers and frigid mind numbing winters. Moreover, the rickshaw driver gets paid pittance for the amount of physical work he does. One rickshawallah told me he earns Rs 100 a day.

I am not being overly moralistic. I can’t afford to because I don’t have the complete picture yet. But the issue of human dignity keeps cropping up in my mind. Riding on someone else’s toil, sweat and, dare I say it, tears. But as I said I don’t have much choice, so I end up rickshawing quite a bit.

Before getting onto a rickshaw, I negotiate with the driver, which basically means haggling over the price. When he demands 10 Rs I am willing to pay 8 and when he pleads for 6 I say 4. The price fixing is not in his favour because there are so many of them willing to undercut each other. If this on demands 2 rs more there is always the next one eagerly waiting to poach customers.

The rickshawallahs have little bargaining power. They know it, I know it and they know I know it. People like me ride these rickshaws and haggle for every rupee like this is our last ride. And yet, when we walk into a store, showroom or mall, like the ones that increasingly dot the urban Indian landscape, we look at the ‘Fixed Price’ notice on the saffron walls and pay up without questioning.

That then is the dichotomy.

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The door opens and a woman walks in. She is pretty and petit, in a vernacular kind of way. A typical UP behenji. Slim and lithe. Her small boobs peek out from the black chunni. her face is sharp and carries an uncanny sense of awareness and guile. She sits down and crosses her legs slowly, delibrately, but not fully. Five men walk in with her. They look menacing and ready to kill, her bodyguards. The hooligan outriders sit around her. They have the Pro-VC completely surrounded.

There is something exciting brewing in the room. I stare at the girl. I am presuming that they are all students. The girl is the centre of attention in the dull room. She is sexually stimulating; She knows this and makes full use of it. Her demenour is mildly menacing, this is what makes her alluring.

She addresses the Pro-VC, poor chap, with barely concealed contempt. Her tone is not too loud, but ‘dont mess with me’ at the same time. I wonder which of the guys is having a tumble with her between the sheets and feel mildly jealous. Her voice has me in rapt attention. She wants the Pro-VC to give her ‘group’ some university contracts. When she finishes her rant the room is silent, except for the echo of her voice in my mind. I look at the Pro-VC, he’s sweating. the light beads of perspiration on his brow reflect the white light from the tubelight. But he brazens it out well. He tries bluster, she’s not amused. He hums and haws about rules and regulations. She gives him a final look of scathing proportions, gets up and walks out of the room, her hips swinging to the beat of her goons footsteps.

It is moments like these that I love; the hidden dynamics in the air; the unexplained, but perfectly understood vibes; the raw sexuality that pierces the mundane moments of life like molten metal.

post script: The lady is apparantly a junior librarian. She’s called ‘juli’. The name comes from combining the first syllables of the two words, junior and librarian, written in hindi.

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