A Delhicate Constitution

Website

2009-04-03T16:56:00.003+05:30

So activity here has been a little down lately. I can't promise that it will improve anytime soon, but if anyone is feeling a little economics-minded, I have a (somewhat imperfect) substitute.

The folks at ISI have decided to give us students our own webpages. So here's mine. There's not much on there at the moment, except links to some research papers. I expect them to be mostly economics-oriented, but I come across some pretty interesting general ones too, every now and then. I shall try and keep that page regularly updated.

As you can see, I'm not doing anything but economics these days.

If there is any writing to be had, though, it will be here. Soon.

Okonomos

2009-03-22T20:51:00.002+05:30

I am to be contributing to a column in the Business Standard called Okonomos. The point of it is to relate recent economics research to world events.

My first article was published on 20 March. Have a look.

One Year On

2009-02-02T23:22:00.000+05:30

The second edition of the Indian Premier League is almost here. So it has been almost a year since the first. Has it had any impact on the game?

Several, yes? The Twenty20 format is a success, clearly. I enjoyed the IPL, but I meant marketing success in this case. For another, the BCCI now runs the ICC. And on the game itself, even the longer versions of the game, the play has become sharper in quality, as a result of skills (and mindset) acquired from the slam-bash version. But probably the biggest impact for me has been on national sides, especially the Indian one.

I mean, look, we're currently on seven wins in a row. The most we've ever had is eight in a row, and I cannot for the life of me remember when that happened. We look invincible. Of course, as these things usually go, we'll probably lose to Sri Lanka tomorrow, but in general the play has been superb. Getting out of tight situations and expecting to win every time we play and all that. And if you look at the reasons for all this, if there are any, naturally Dhoni and a spate of youngsters are reasons enough, but then so is the IPL.

A lot of those youngsters got a chance to shine last year at the first edition. Not just that, they performed at a level that had the whole cricket-watching population's attention. And it helped that we have a clear-headed and confident captain in Dhoni. He saw talent and went for it, and it shows in the team selections. Look at the faith he reposes in his team, and how many of the current lot rose in stature at that time. Yusuf Pathan, Rohit Sharma and Praveen Kumar are just three.

I haven't had a chance to look at the rules and auction list of players for this year's tournament, but I hope it hasn't reached the consolidation stage yet. What I mean is, I hope there is still plenty of room for new, as yet unheralded players. There's a lot of skill out there and for too long have we been kept from it by the narrow structure at the top. A lot of players with potential can now aim for the ultimate prize, if they only play well and catch someone's eye. There will be a lot of eyes to catch, that's for sure.

This is also a very good reason to grant official status to the ICL, but there politics comes in the way so that might be unlikely. But if the IPL alone can raise the game to a new orbit like it has, then that is good enough for now, isn't it?

Call Me A Skeptic

2009-01-22T23:04:00.000+05:30

Slumdog Millionaire's been nominated for a bunch of Oscars. I'll bet you it wins an unexpected biggie.

Then we'll all go crazy. Hollywood will call. We will answer. Et voila! The film industry opens its doors to foreign firms seeking to set up here. India, the big growth market, fill your buckets boys. And what did it take? An award or two.

Remember the 1990s? Remember how after years of trying, there was suddenly a spate of Indian victories at Miss World and Miss Universe competitions? Did Indian women become suddenly better looking then? Empirical evidence is mixed at best. What changed was that the gains from letting Indians win became apparent, more likely. Jury decisions that ride on so much money are always dubious.

If this is the way it is, there's a fair chance the movie industry will get the kind of fillip the beauty and cosmetic industry got in the 1990s. Suddenly tons of foreign firms entered the market then. Same will happen again now. Before the Left can swing into action, that is.

There's no business like show business. That's why we're getting our own Formula One race soon.

In any case, any takers for that bet?

Who Are You?

2008-12-13T18:28:00.000+05:30

Part of the answer lies with god, but you might not agree with what I mean by that.

Continuing on the theme of human interactions. From the point of view of a society, some of the possible mediums of interaction include language, money, and feelings of identity with systems of belief. The last manifests itself as religion, but also as culture, and many other things that are effectively systems of belief.

Religion is the consequence of several personal beliefs aligning in a manner that produces more 'consistent' outcomes, such as the ones defined conventionally by that religion. Being consistent simply means that in any given context we largely know what its response will be. The better the refinement of the personal beliefs, and the better the alignment of them into one, the greater the consistency of the resulting system of belief. That is, it improves our understanding of the structure we are considering. In a way this helps us shape the questions of what we know, and what we do not know, and also the effective limitations of what we do not know. And to tie the circle back to religion, it improves the formulation of not only the question about what is god, but also the potential answer to it or where it lies.

Religion is itself a particular form of a refined system of belief. (Maths is another, but that's for another time.) Religion too exhibits predictable outcomes, (the laws and rules, for example). But this is also its shortcoming. Because individuals are different in random ways, an overly specified religion is then necessarily not reflective of all individual beliefs. Just by looking at the 'laws' of such a religion, we can say little about the complexity of the underlying social fabric. We can try, but to better understand the spread of human beliefs we would need a structure that permits individual beliefs, ie, allows unpredictable outcomes, and that has largely generalised rules. If, as an added benefit, this structure also permits a sharing of beliefs with others, then anyone's beliefs could be reflected in society.

Mathematics, while having an equivalent formalism, does not explain human interactions in a manner that we understand. For that we must look elsewhere.

Hinduism is remarkable in its ability to allow random outcomes of the sense described above, ie, reflected from quirky individual beliefs. I personally don't believe in god, and prefer to believe in the notion of some basic principles from which everything stems, but that doesn't affect my relationship with the religion. It is in many ways a translated version of the same thing, but the point is that any individual's beliefs can be accommodated and even conveyed. The 'rules' of the religion permit it. In a lot of cases, it is almost as easy as coming up with a tale with a moral or aim, substituting the gods for the various characters in the tale, and producing it as a mythological treasure. And because anything goes, we end up with a huge variety in the Hinduism we see. And add to this mix the presence of other - refined and forceful - religions, and you get a pretty complicated result.

The limited point is that this would make it a pretty good reflection of a diverse society. If we could observe the various different manifestations of belief, using Hinduism as a rough barometer, we could then be able to better understand the aims and aspirations that drive any individual, or any group of individuals. We can hear all the different messages that they carry home with them every night, and in hearing that, get a glimpse of their hopes and worries. What drives them to do what they do. Anyone trying to understand the fabric of Indian society would do worse than to start with the tapestry of its religions.

Myself included.

Physics, Philosophy and Phutility

2008-11-12T18:25:00.000+05:30

Why do people choose the way they do? How would you react to their choices?

Think of your everyday interactions with people. Your relations with them are based on a continuous give-and-take or exchange. This is the case even with friends. There's almost always a tacit 'I'll do this for you if you do that for me', even if it is not articulated, or even thought of consciously.

And the relationship is, in many ways, a series of those exchanges. There are a select few for whom we would do anything, but for everyone else, there's Mastercard. Something to balance the books, if you will.

There may be a combination of physics and philosophy that fits here. And tomorrow I've got an appointment with my prof to outline an argument about it convincing enough to buy some more time. While the genesis of it lies in physics, especially the mathematical bits, the aim is to have a framework that allows interpretations that fit many of our everyday scenarios.

For example, going back to how we choose, is it a frame of mind that determines what one is going to do that day? Is there merit in the argument that I did all that just because I felt that way? And if so, is there a way to measure how we feel at any given point? Can we direct those states?

Why do we pick political parties? We look for something in them. In return, they too are selling themselves to us. Fundamentally, these are all manifestations of choice.

How do countries pick trading partners? There's probably more to it than just demand and supply. For example, we can say that the US under Obama is now in a different state from the one it was in under Bush. But how does that affect our relations with them?

How do companies advertise? They have to predict what a consumer wants. How do they even choose a consumer? For that matter, how do they choose the product to begin with? It's a cycle. Or a back-and-forth interaction between advertiser and recipient.

Back to economics. How do we set prices? Whether we are marketing goods or even ourselves, we're usually setting a price for our time and effort. Those are based on our assessments of what we're good at, whom we're dealing with and, of course, what we're lucky enough to get. Nevertheless, the assessment leads to a certain behaviour, based on an expectation we have.

Say we're applying for a job. Every interaction with a prospective employer is about putting them in the frame of mind where he or she thinks we're the right person for it. There's a stream of bargaining and adjusting going on, all the time there.

These are disparate examples, mostly lacking coherence, but these scenarios do have something in common. Intuitively, in each case we know that even if we can never really be sure of what can happen, we've got an idea. We've at least got a latent sense of what we must say next, or do next, or what is likely to happen if we say or do.

That is, in more mathematical terms, we've got some sort of probability distribution of various possible choices or events, and a reasonable idea of how relatively likely the various options are.

And that itself is most likely the best we can do. That's all that we may be able to say with conviction, but it's a more accurate guess than assuming that something will happen for sure.

All this is not to mention the fact that sometimes our very act of choosing changes everything. What we seem to be doing, when we're not trying to predict the future, is trying to make sense of the past. All the actions we have already taken need to make sense in relation to each other. It is usually only when they do that the future looks clear.

Choices, interactions, bargaining, a theory of probability borrowed from quantum physics, and a sprinkle of philosophy. But then again, as someone has said (and sung, for that matter), if you open your mind too much, your brain will fall out.

Coming Soon, Probably Elsewhere

2008-10-30T01:24:00.005+05:30

Most of the major ingredients that go into Western economic theory do not apply in India. Then why should the theory itself or the results of it apply? Consider the following.

We are not your everyday capitalist country. We may never be. We have more labour than any country except China. Our laws protect labour better than many other countries. We believe in our hearts that it is wrong to fire people.

Our burning need is to provide jobs for people. We understand that we need to generate wealth. But we do not shy away from redistribution either. And we’re struggling to reconcile the two.

Our social fabric is different. We are a collective society, and not founded on individualistic principles. These translate into laws, ethics, and a direction different from countries that are. Look at our view on the right to property.

We speak over 25 major languages in this country. Only Hindi or English could unify us linguistically. If they do not, then we have to work out how to further integrate. Could a Marathi find work easily in Bihar? Could he adjust equally easily? The answer will have far-reaching consequences.

Our political landscape is in upheaval. Our middle class is growing, and elections will matter more and more. Regional parties are becoming stronger, and the idea of national parties is giving way to that of national coalitions. This is nowhere near a two-party structure like most of the West follows.

That is, even if you ignore the effects of history, in fundamental ways we are different from the West. Our basic structure is different.

Some call the 21st century the one in which the world economic order changes. That is far-fetched, but if India has to ever pull its weight on the world stage, it must do so on the basis of an intellectual revolution that begins at home.

It is hard to escape the view that our current progress is borrowed. Almost all the development that we have seen in the last two decades has been on the back of Western technology. Our business models, our product markets, our machines, our building plans – many of these have been taken from already successful platforms elsewhere in the world. The mobile phone or internet revolution in India is a wondrous thing, but we hardly created it here.

This is fine only as long as we’re playing catch-up. As long as the West has good ideas to sell and we have money to buy, we will grow apace. But real power lies with the innovator. At some point we will need to graduate from ‘buying’ research and technology to producing our own.

But in this, science is not alone. An intellectual revolution must span economics, politics, caste, gender, environment, labour, and everything else that applies to us, for we have borrowed them all. We need theories that arise out of our context, our choices, and our view of the future.

As you probably guessed, I’m going to focus on economics. Over the next few years, my current occupation is going to provide good access to cutting edge research. By looking at theories on India, we may be able to learn some more about their state and direction. We will also be able to debate our assumptions. Along the way, we might understand ourselves a little better.

It may not be on this blog though. Details - and a beginning - soon.

Okay, Brilliant

2008-09-20T13:40:00.005+05:30

The Follies Student Comedy Revue at the Columbia Business School performs Every Breath You Take. But who are they watching? Ben Bernanke, Fed chairman.

Chew On This

2008-09-12T00:15:00.009+05:30

Fiddy Sen reappears. Somewhat differently handled from the last time he was around though. But read slowly, maybe in the key of Shankar Mahadevan's Breathless, and Penny will drop again.

Tears for the Passing of Family

In the fading few pages of the book of his travels, hours before the tap of the gavel would take him away, I read of how Fiddy Sen found himself hitched to a camel at the edge of town on a hot June afternoon, with the sun ablaze at 98 degrees, and it reminded me of an earlier date, when Fiddy recounted how as a child he was confronted by a threat that he blunted with a monk and his son in a duel that he won by the skin of his gun and his fledgling imagination, except that this time it was his Penny who stood and stared with auburn hair and a glint in her eye while he responded with a nod and a wink, or that’s what he wrote, and I when reading didn’t think any less of a man whose career was what he held dear, not given to love and lacking regret, but who saw his soul in her at an early age; even that once with the kiss and the flames, when he could have stopped her with a locket and a hand in her pocket but didn’t for reasons that only he could tell as he tied her and left her to burn in hell, when all he could hear were wedding bells and cries of a child misbegotten, but I could see this was long forgotten; now was about them and their guns and their shots standing under a sun as sharp as a dot and that brightly shone on the exact spot of the grave of the Holy Barber and the forty thieves whose ghosts hung from posts as warnings to those who sought to enter, and I wondered why Fiddy and not Penny was relieved of riding on horses and unjust causes where so many grieved, and how it was so full of malice even after years in Paris and Dallas; and the family feud that had later ensued led Fiddy to think of their son as being the one who would be only three when he pruned the family tree, and the thoughts of the fate of their progeny allowed an inflection of sober reflection to mar his complexion momentarily, while Penny observed that he was no stranger when for her he reserved his six-CD changer that he carried with him when he went uninvited, and in whose possession he was always delighted, for with it was no wrong he couldn’t have righted, and love and hope were born again in tender refrain; but at that moment I was distracted by a beam of light that was refracted by a capricious cadaver who thoughtlessly acted by burning the pages I held, erasing the ages and doing it in stages, leaving me wondering who’d live and who’d die, for when present and future turn to dust and to ashes, and illusions succumb to thundering crashes, it is for the past that we usually cry.

The Failure In Iraq

2008-08-28T22:41:00.014+05:30

Oh man, why such boring stuff all the time?

Well, deal with it because I'm the the middle of exams. Again. Slap-bang within one month of starting I'm being examined. But I guess they're giving me money to do this so they have a right to make sure I don't slack off and start writing rubbish online.

Anyway, forget all that. I do have a point I want to make and I'll keep it short. More fun stuff will emerge, I hope, once that crap is done.

So, where was I? Ah yes, the failure in Iraq.

That the situation in Iraq today is a debacle is a result not of the failure to ensure peace but the failure to sustain democracy. This has to be among the many reasons that makes America reluctant to pull troops out of Iraq in a hurry.

The Democrats assumed control of Congress strongly on the back of the quit-Iraq platform. They've not been able to make much impression on policy yet. This is also a result of impending elections and a presidential veto, of course, but it may not be because they want to delay it further. It may be that they will not be able to push it through, even if they have the President on their side.

The danger in a my-ideology-is-better-than-your-ideology war is that if you don't completely win, you lose as well. The real killer is doubt from within. It doesn't suit the West and Western institutions like the IMF to concede that maybe there's a time in every place for democracy. That it is not a one-size-fits-all solution that you can use anywhere. What's worse, they will then have to loosen the pressure on the Gulf, parts of Africa, China, Russia, and anywhere else that's left (haha Left, get it?) to Get Democracy. They'll just get laughed at.

I mean, imagine how embarrassing it would be for the US if so many Iraqi elections come and go and don't stop in between to happen.

A Devastating Article

2008-08-25T23:00:00.012+05:30

Osman Samiuddin of Cricinfo writes a simply brilliant article on why the 'postponement' of the Champions Trophy that was to be held in Pakistan smacks of Western hypocrisy. He says the West is letting Pakistan down by not touring precisely at a time it should.

"Pakistan needed to host the Champions Trophy, the second-most important ODI tournament in the game, to put some feelgood back in the air, an opportunity to show that it still matters. Pakistan needed to show itself - and see itself - in headlines that didn't have the words "terrorist" and "Al-Qaeda" in them. They went out of their way to try and ensure it, yet were still rebuffed. At a time when Pakistan needed most to feel involved and wanted in the world of cricket and the world itself, Pakistan finds itself shut out."

Cricket is one of the few international forums where the South Asian countries are largely united against the "Whites". India and Pakistan, for example, agree to share hosting of the World Cups, despite the BCCI having enough money to go it alone. That's not even taking into account the fact that they both go on to make peace with Bangladesh and Sri Lanka and there's joy and cheer all round. If there is a better example of the split between politics and sports, I'd like to know.

(West Indies has been long granted an informal "honorary white" status; purely politically, they tend to vote with the others on most issues between the two.)

Five nations have pulled out of this year's Trophy in Pakistan. South Africa was the first, now followed by Australia, England, New Zealand, and the West Indies. That leaves India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh. Oh, and Zimbabwe.

Zimbabwe. I wonder which voting bloc they belong to. I must remember to check.

Anyway, this is pretty ridiculous. If Pakistan's next door neighbours and other brothers can find it convenient to find the time to come, what is with these other guys? What is their fear? That in a land where not only are people killing each other in the name of the different religions, but also in the name of the same religion, not to mention in the name of no religion at all but just caste/sex/looks, in such a land they'll drop all this because it is so much more fun to kill the white guy? What do you want, folks?

You could argue that Western insistence will force Pakistan to lift its standards and that every effort in this regard counts. But if you think not touring with your cricket team amounts to a slap in the face to the Pakistan government, then you might be disappointed. These peripheral activities are the first to be discarded in the name of politics, but they are the last to be of any use to the effort.

I mostly wish India would use its status and clout to persuade these guys into coming, but then I realise that they're not very fond of us either. We're taking the game away from them by pouring so much money into it that they can't afford to keep up.

Careful. Don't trip on the irony.

Connect The Dots

2008-08-24T08:58:00.007+05:30

A geographically contiguous set of governments bind themselves tightly together by creating a supergovernment that unites them all. Important departments like foreign policy or finance and the economy are handed over to the supergovernment. The constituents content themselves with administration of their territories, but still retain significant powers. The region is now defined by a common market, a common currency, freely transferable labour, and a reallocation of resources.

I am talking about the European Union, but if you think about it I could just as easily be talking about India. We too have a central government that unites fractious and ethnically diverse state governments that have little in common except the national identity. While their formations differ - India's present political boundaries were defined by the British Empire, while the European Union is a voluntary coming-together of its constituents - the political models are more similar to each other than they are to any other country.

In the case of the EU, its voluntary nature allows members to create their institutions as they go along. This has for the moment resulted in a lot of bickering over process and detail (witness the ongoing saga of the draft EU constitution). But speed is sacrificed for the promise of greater stability, and well thought-out institutions. The European Central Bank, in particular, has done a reasonably good job so far in managing the growth-inflation trade-off in Europe. With a price-targeting mandate in a price-conscious region, it has stuck to its anti-inflationary guns, and so far has kept to the task it was designed for.

But I would be interested to see how the political structure of the EU manages the problem of representation. This is to my mind the biggest drawback in the Indian political system, and the EU would do well to circumvent it somehow.

What do I mean? Consider this: how many fully democratic countries can claim to be ruled by an unelected prime minister? This is the case in India today. At the time that an Indian casts a vote, he or she has absolutely no idea who will lead the country, even if that party wins. We vote for our local MP, and somehow the pieces come together and we have a national government. (As a contrast, when the British say that Gordon Brown is unelected, they mean unelected as prime minister. He is still an MP. And in the US, you know whom you are voting for.)

European ministers too are cut off from the eventual voters that they represent, but for different reasons. They are indirectly elected or nominated by member governments and far removed from individual citizens. And European ministries will not remain weak always; the direction of power in Europe is clearly towards the unified centre. This makes the question of electoral legitimacy all that much more relevant.

But it isn't just about electoral legitimacy. Indian governments have that too. It is the connectedness to the voter that is the main question. Can a voter, sitting at home and considering a vote, see the path between the vote and the final result? They cannot in India. The EU would be better off if their citizens could.

It will be an interesting experiment. The EU, like I said, has the advantage of being nascent, and is thus more flexible to solve these problems. Our political structure is for the moment too deeply embedded to be changed in any suitable fashion. But we both aspire to the same solution, even if it is for different problems.

If You're Thinking About Being My Baby...

2008-08-22T23:45:00.016+05:30

Were you one of those that classified the Obama-Hillary tussle for candidacy as a black-man-versus-white-woman choice? If so, are you now willing to conclude that Americans prefer a black president to a female one?

You couldn’t say, could you? I mean, yes, Obama did get elected, but that could be about other things. Maybe Obama connected with voters more than Hillary did. Maybe his policies were better. Maybe he was just the right guy at the right time. On the other hand it could easily have been Obamamania or what-have-you. You couldn’t possibly tell.

Maybe thinking economics will help.

There are many voters, making it impossible to figure out what the collective reason behind their votes was. That is, we just don’t know enough about everyone to know how they think in a majority sense. Or as economists would say, there are too many agents with unknown preferences to be able to aggregate continuously.

But if we don’t know enough, let’s look at those who might. The ones most likely to have made the effort to find out what people want would be the candidates themselves. After all, they have the most to gain. Looking for the pattern in their behaviour towards potential voters may help reflect how things really are. If we're really lucky it will even tell us how far we’ve gone towards understanding society, simply because it provides us one of the best views, albeit indirect.

(Of course I’m talking the United States here, but I feel on a lot of social yardsticks we are merely a generation or two behind the US, and heading in roughly the same direction. Think nuclearisation of families, rising women's rights, latchkey children, stronger Western value systems, growing emphasis on the individual, and so on. But more on this another time.)

So, the candidates. What can we see in their behaviour that will shed some light, at least on what their perceptions are of American tolerance towards black and female? Is it true, what Michael Jackson said in that song?

The only thing I noticed was that Obama downplayed his blackness while Hillary flaunted her womanliness. To be sure, they both dropped all the hints they could, but Hillary was far more obvious. She appeared to take pains in displaying all attributes of a woman, even contradictory ones. As Lexington put it, Hillary “dithered between presenting herself as a warrior queen, ready for a 3am call, or a put-upon everywoman fighting off tears.” (Here.)

In a contest where at least one of the things significantly valued by voters in general is the steadfastness of stance, in the black-versus-woman context Hillary played all her woman cards, perhaps at the risk of perceived inconsistency or weakness. In other words, Hillary tried harder to convince women that she was one of them, personality and all, than Obama did with blacks.

Was that a cynical choice? Women are over 50% of America’s population whereas blacks are 12%. Did she calculate that enough woman votes would see her through? And then did this calculation go wrong?

But in our own context, look at what the BJP does. When they're feeling strong, such as just before the 2004 elections, there is no mention of Hindutva and Muslim evils. It comes out only when they're weak and lacking in other issues. That's when they pull out what they think is their trump card. It is becoming a last resort.

So in this case, did weakness push Hillary to this strategy? Since not much else changed, is this because American politics is tilted more against women than blacks, leaving Hillary with no choice but to play the woman card? More seriously, does it mean that America is so entrenched against women that even a black was preferable? Anyone out there with a sensible view?

A Brief History Of Time

2008-08-12T22:21:00.019+05:30

I left. Some months elapsed. Then I came back. Or was it the other way around?

How I love spatial disorientation. I say everyone should change cities every now and then. What a feeling it is. I will put my foot down and say it is positively heady.

So now that we've got that done and over with, what shall we talk about?

I don't know, shall we begin at the new year's in Mumbai? Or shall we start in February, when I went to Hong Kong for a couple of weeks? Or how about March, when I was snug in the bosom of my employer, safe from the world.

There's also April, when I changed my mind. The new one seems to work. Or - here's a possibility - the month of May, which you may also recognise as the month of Can or Shall. There was an argument to chew on. Or hey, June. The time I was winding down at work and winding up at night.

I definitely won't start in July though; I was on holiday that month.

And what of the august August? For that we shall leave another time. For that is about being back in the warm embrace of academic fruitlessness. Ah the pleasures of classes and homework and tests and exams and students and professors and canteens and hostels and poverty.

We can leave all that out. It was Eight Months of Me, will say The Girl. Who am I to disagree?

Eight months is a long time to be away. I don't yet feel like writing but I think I shall soon. Stick around, and meanwhile fill in the blanks for yourself because you were there and already know pretty much all that happened.

Of Doing And Being Done By

2007-12-01T23:14:00.000+05:30

Bombay is more polluted than Delhi. I know from the extra black that comes out of my nostrils when I clean them.

Moving on.

How would you react if when you decided the two things you would most like to do with yourself, after years of internal debate, you then realised that your parents are already doing them one each?

In the tradeoff between money, knowledge, and power, supposing an inability to successfully balance all three, I have always liked to believe I will gravitate towards knowledge.

Wealth and power are ways we demonstrate who we are to others. They are our badges or entry tickets, and they are our only way to compare ourselves with those around us, and those whom we long to be.

Of course, one way of looking at knowledge is that it is the agent of this money and power. It is through knowledge that money or power is first earned. My knowledge is then effectively a measure to be judged by where in the sea of society I can propel myself to.

But knowledge cannot be transmitted through generations the way money or power can; we cannot inherit it; we have to go get our own.

I want to say that only knowledge can be a ‘pure’ pursuit, to be acquired for its sake alone, but maybe that’s not true. I know people who sit on their not inconsiderable wealth without spending any of it because the pleasure is derived from having it and not from using it. I have also heard, mostly from history, of those who have used power not for what it would get them. In this too, the three are really more similar than not.

But knowledge is the only one of the three that can be got without anyone else’s tacit acceptance. To have it, I don’t have to rely on you to choose my services or sell me yours. Unlike money or power, my value through knowledge is inherent in me, and not resting in your perceptions of it or me.

What I do now involves disseminating knowledge, of a sort. There is room for analysis and opinion, even. But what sort of knowledge? And to what purpose is it being gained, and spread?

I want to be somewhere that is surrounded by abstract ideas and people that have them. I like talking about how things are, and how we can change them. I love taking tiny little things and putting them in their huge big contexts. I'm fond of taking huge big contexts and seeing how they determine the tiny little things. I enjoy observing how people react to events.

I want to watch the rules of society - whether through economics, politics, or psychology - being made. And perhaps even shape them. What I do now is take the rules as given and play by them. Try as I might, I cannot find it fulfilling enough for me.

So what instead? I think it mostly leaves teaching or writing.

The aggravating thing is that I've been beaten to each by one or the other parent. The only real question that remains now is whether I should join them, or find some other game to play.

Do You Give A Flying Quark?

2007-11-29T13:47:00.000+05:30

I come bearing life-saving news. The universe can now perhaps be fully explained.

To put it less understandably, there could now be a resolution to the incompleteness of the standard unified model on the one hand, and the inelegance of string theory on the other. Every particle (including quarks) and force (including gravity) has an home to live in this new model.

And best of all, it's pretty. The whole thing can be described using a diagram that just about fails to look like the more complex Rangoli my mother attempts on Diwali every year. You can do better if you can draw something with 248 sides.

It all started with E8. And no, that’s not a set of unelectable politicians. It is instead a pretty complex abstract geometrical structure that has finally been mapped. Apparently it has taken 120 years to do this.

Given that it has 248 dimensions, that is still pretty quick if you ask me. I still can’t get a convincing three-dimensional look to my attempts at drawing a bottle. Cross-etching? Cross-hatching? Don’t count on it, I say. Bury it, I say.

Anyway, I say.

The next achievement has been to postulate that E8 provides the structure of the universe. If you don’t believe me, read it. You won’t understand any of it either, but at least you’ll see that someone else has said it and not me. And it will give you a chance to admire the pretty Rangoli designs too.

It is by first being reduced to tears by boredom that I generally find an interest again, even if it is one I cannot understand. It was in some such condition that I read an article on this in the Economist.

Some Googling later…

I was reading a possibly comprehensive and complete explanation of everything in the universe. What’s more, I didn’t understand more than twenty words of what was being said. And to top it all I had the manic glint of deeply believing zeal in my eye.

Hey, wait a minute. I sound exactly like a bearded lady holding the Bible, don’t I?

I realised it too. I shut it and came here to preach instead.

Moral: I’m like a pull-back toy with a spring. I cannot seem to move forward without being drawn back first, and then I cannot seem to control the forward motion. It goes just about anywhere. Theoretical physics? Just goes to show.

Update (November 29):

Here's a quick 10 sentence summary. It doesn't explain the workings of the paper (or the physics involved), but it might make clearer its significance.

1. Until the early 20th century, the view of the universe was dominated by Newtonian physics, which works very well when dealing with large bodies such as planets, tennis balls or falling sperm whales.
2. The discovery of the atom and subatomic particles, and the subsequent realisation that they follow completely different rules from classical mechanics, led to the expansion of the framework of physics, and the birth of quantum theory, which deals with precisely the rules governing the behaviour of these small particles.
3. However good these individual theories were at explaining their own field of study, i.e. Newton's laws worked well for planets etc. and quantum theory for atoms etc., they did not work at all when applied to each other.
4. Einstein spent most of his post-relativity life trying to unify all these separate theories into one grand unified theory that would explain everything.
5. He failed.
6. Subsequently other physicist have tried and failed to unite everything in one composite theory; so you either have the conventional grand model which includes most things but cannot explain gravity for one (and so is incomplete), or you have something like string theory which explains everything but has the unfortunate side effect of implying that the universe has extra dimensions popping out here and there, like unwanted appendages.
7. One of the fundamental requirements of a grand theory of everything is that it must be elegant, because the universe is elegant; that is, there is no room for a patchwork theory with add-on clauses and oddly protruding elements.
8. Mathematicians have recently finished mapping this weird geometric shape called E8, which has 248 dimensions and looks pretty cool actually (see the full paper for 2-dimensional pictures of it.. This is the rangoli I mentioned.)
9. This chap has tried to fit in the various components of the universe (all the particles and all the forces) into this 248 dimensional framework, and found that it fits, and even has room for some hitherto undiscovered things, sort of like Mendelyev's periodic table.
10. It remains to be experimentally verified though, but if it is correct, then it is an elegant grand unified theory of everything.

Or something like that.

The Hypnotised Never Lie

2007-09-25T14:12:00.000+05:30

The ultimate song about the power (and futility) of revolution. One of the best.

***

We'll be fighting in the streets
With our children at our feet
And the morals that they worship will be gone
And the men who spurred us on
Sit in judgement of all wrong
They decide and the shotgun sings the song

I'll tip my hat to the new constitution
Take a bow for the new revolution
Smile and grin at the change all around me
Pick up my guitar and play
Just like yesterday
Then I'll get on my knees and pray
We don't get fooled again

The change, it had to come
We knew it all along
We were liberated from the foe, that's all
And the world looks just the same
And history ain't changed
'Cause the banners, they're all flown in the next war

I'll tip my hat to the new constitution
Take a bow for the new revolution
Smile and grin at the change all around me
Pick up my guitar and play
Just like yesterday
Then I'll get on my knees and pray
We don't get fooled again
No, no!

I'll move myself and my family aside
If we happen to be left half alive
I'll get all my papers and smile at the sky
For I know that the hypnotised never lie

There's nothing in the street
Looks any different to me
And the slogans are replaced, by-the-bye
And the parting on the left
Is now the parting on the right
And the beards have all grown longer overnight

I'll tip my hat to the new constitution
Take a bow for the new revolution
Smile and grin at the change all around me
Pick up my guitar and play
Just like yesterday
Then I'll get on my knees and pray
We don't get fooled again

Meet the new boss
Same as the old boss

The Who - Won't Get Fooled Again

Four's A Crowd

2007-09-11T23:12:00.000+05:30

We all have voices in our heads. And I think I have four of them.

In my head, every thought is a conversation or an argument between two distinct voices. What they say may depend on the context, but they argue two sides to the case as it may be. Sometimes they work together, and sometimes apart, but each voice tries to pick holes in the other one’s arguments.

Their stance also depends on the context, and on how dysfunctional I am feeling at the time. That is to say, it is not always possible to classify one voice as being of one type and the other of another type and being so always. It could be that they are both cautious, or both rash and reckless, or any other sort in the middle, but they are never so to the same degree. There is a gap between their views, and this gap becomes the bone of contention. So for example, if I'm lying in bed and feeling lazy, then one voice will suggest that I order dinner. But the other will say, "you're just being lazy, get up and make yourself something to eat." And then an argument will ensue.

But since only one action can result from these thoughts, it is essential that there is a compromise. To arrive at a compromise, both voices appeal to a mediator, which is the third voice in my head. The role of the mediator, from what I can understand, is to listen to both sides and finally pick one as being more appropriate, or closer to the truth. The mediator also seems to make suggestions on where the flaws are in an argument and which voice is more convincing, and so to some extent guides its flow.

The third voice is definitely distinct from the other two. This I proved to myself when I found myself following a course of action that neither of the two main voices prescribed. That is, since the third voice is capable of independent thought, it must classify as a wholly separate voice. I have gone to bed hungry on occasion, fed up with having to decide between ordering and getting up.

For a long time, I thought I was inhabited by just these three. This was fine; after all, Freud had said this a long time ago (remember the id, ego and superego?) But then one day, in a particularly inebriated moment, I discovered a fourth, and things haven’t been the same since.

It is somewhat hard to classify the fourth voice, but I would say that it plays the role of an archive and commentator – a sort of fourth estate if you like. That is, it places the whole argument and subsequent action in context. It decides whether justice has been done; whether the action followed was a fair result of the two main arguments; whether there was a bias; whether the action taken was consistent and replicable, and so on. Had I ordered food earlier that week? Was ordering (or getting up, or even going hungry) consistent with previous behaviour? The fourth voice decides.

The third voice rules only on the basis of information presented to it at the time, abstracted away from everything else, but it is the fourth voice that places the verdict into context. Moreover, the ability of the fourth voice to contradict the third makes it an independent voice as well. This was admittedly harder to verify, but I think I’ve done it now.

So, anyway, I have four distinct voices in my head. I’ve known this for some time now. But last night a disturbing question arose: if I have four voices in my head, do ‘I’, being aware of this, become a distinct fifth voice, or am ‘I’ merely a manifestation of one or more of the others?

I asked some people this question. P’s answer was that it depends on whether any of the voices is aware of itself or only of the others, or whether there is a completely independent realisation of four voices. I asked A, and she said that I am just an observer. I may not be an objective one, but I am one that is willing to be ‘entertained by these voices’. Depending on circumstance, I may choose to relate or associate with one voice or the other, but essentially I do not exist independently from them.

Okay, so where does this leave us? Suppose for a moment that there is an independent fifth voice that recognises all others. If this is true, then either the fifth voice is self-aware, or there is some other voice that is aware of it. But then who recognises that one? This line of thinking leads us iterating indefinitely backwards, and there is no end to it.

This is an argument very similar to the one here, if you remember. There I supposed that quite as the term infinity was invented as an escape from endlessly continuing numbers, the term God too was invented as an escape from the endless backward chain of creation. In other words, both were ways to escape having to answer yet another identical question of what came after (or before). Now I don’t suppose I have an infinity of voices in my head, so this cannot possibly be it. Something has to just ‘be’.

One escape to this is the one that P suggests. He says that there may be only four voices, but none of which is self-aware. Each voice perceives only three others. Upshot: the composite of the four is what I call me.

This is a remarkable conclusion, if it is true, because if it is then it offers a possible solution to the backward chain of creation as well. As you go backwards down the ‘who created whom’ line, you will come down to some pieces of matter (or energy) that are not self-aware but are aware of each other, and depend on each other’s awareness to exist.

The lack of self-awareness to each constituent is crucial. If it is self-aware, then it must justify its existence to itself, and then you merely go one step back in the chain to what created it. On the other hand if it is not aware of itself, then it bypasses the issue, because the question of creation does not arise. But then if it is not aware of itself, then it follows that either it does not exist, or that something else must be aware of it. Remember the conundrum about whether a tree falling in a deserted forest makes a sound or not? This is analogous to saying that the sound needs a receiver in order to exist.

So if there is a set of all mutually aware bits that are not self-aware, then these must form the constituents of everything else. None of these pieces can ‘exist’ without each other; they exist only because others recognise that they exist.

If extended properly, this provides an answer to the creation debate, albeit an escapist one. Nothing came from anywhere, but something exists only because there is something else to recognise it. That other thing doesn’t independently exist either, but exists only because it is in turn recognised to exist. Nothing truly exists, then. In fact, the concept of existence itself might be misplaced.

Anyway, back to my head. If it is the interplay of four voices that gives rise to a composite identity, is it possible to think of each voice as being a frequency? And if they are all frequencies, then is this not analogous to an orchestra, with many different instruments playing at the same time, with each player only aware of all the others, but together producing a composite sound? Or if you prefer light, then is this not like many different individual colours coming together to form one composite hue?

This composite might then be played back to the constituents, enveloping them. It is what is exhibited on the exterior, with its precise shade varying according to the intensity of the constituent elements. This is what I think A was trying to say, in that the final shade is formed as a combination the others, and may be closer in shade to one or the other depending on the context.

And if this is true, and they are all frequencies of a sort, then theoretically it should be possible to transmit this information, shouldn’t it? It should also be possible to decompose the transmitted frequency (or colour) into its constituents. Perhaps we do it without thinking.

Our uniqueness as individuals depends on the variety of colours we can produce from our constituents. Our communication skills depend on how we transmit these colours. And our ability to relate to each other depends on whether we can interpret what we receive. If one of us cannot perceive the colours that the other transmits, or we cannot decompose them, then perhaps that is why, like non-superimposing sets, we may never fully understand each other.

Fun And Games

2007-09-06T16:46:00.000+05:30

So we won yesterday. Even though I’m usually an optimist when it comes to Indian cricket, even I didn’t give us much of a chance when we had a hundred runs to get off seventy-something balls. We were helped a bit by England’s hopelessness in the field, and by quite a bit of luck in terms of fortunate boundaries to third-man, but played very well too. After all, some of England’s wins in the series have been somewhat fortuitous too, haven’t they? Turn and turn about.

A few things came to mind though, while I was watching the game.

***

Yesterday was the first time that I registered the full import of Tendulkar’s age. He has suffered from cramps mid-innings before, but yesterday was the worst condition I have ever seen him in.

His post-match interview was especially telling. He looked wan, like a man who has just come out of deep pain. He mentioned how difficult it was getting for him to get up and ready for the next game, and he said it genuinely, and not as a complaint. To hear it from his mouth, in plain words, finally brought the truth crashing home. No more you're-still-a-wonderkid brainwashing.

But I don’t think his tone registered with the brainless Harsha Bhogle. Not understanding the seriousness of Sachin’s mood, Bhogle tried to laugh it off with his usual ill-timed jokes. Something along the lines of “that’s odd, when you’re still 16,” or something like that. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong mood. Tendulkar laughed resignedly, and tried to remind Bhogle that he was not, in fact, 16 anymore, and was 34, although he still enjoyed the game, but Bhogle didn't catch on. It took Ian Chappell’s good sense to bring the subject back to what they were talking about. He gave Sachin a chance to explain what he meant by increased recovery time, giving him a chance to make his view clear, because it really looked like he wanted to talk about it, and let people know the truth.

He’s been around for nearly 20 years. Although I have been guilty of it in the past, I think yesterday provided enough of a shock to the system for it to register deeply. He is going to retire at some point this year most likely, and we should make the most of it while he remains. Let him play as a 34-year-old, and not wish back the Sachin from a decade ago. I at least am going to enjoy what’s left of his career without living in the past. What was, was. Never mind that now. You’ve been born again, Sachin, and welcome back.

***

I also figured out yesterday just what it is about commentary nowadays that irritates me so. It came to the point where I switched off the volume and was watching in silence. I hope Tata Sky or whoever comes up with an option where you can turn off the commentary while preserving the ambient noise, especially the crowd. I can’t take this commentary anymore.

Commentary involves telling the viewer what is happening on the field, and providing analysis. This isn’t that, except intermittently. What Shastri, Gavaskar and Bhogle do instead is talk to the players as though they can hear. All we get to hear is advice on what they must do next. All the time.

“What India needs now is a couple of good overs.”
“Run the singles, pick up the odd two, block the good balls, find a boundary now and then.”
“All Zaheer must do is keep a tight line on off-stump.”
“India must score as much as they can in the third powerplay against the part-time bowlers.”

And they get very specific about it. And then they get insistent. And then, they get disappointed when things don’t go quite like they insist they should. I’m sick and tired of it now. I don’t want commentary that is an endless barrage of advice. The players can’t hear you. I can. I know what they should do. I know that if the required rate is up to 10 an over they must score quickly. I know that when a wicket falls the pressure mounts. I know that a new batsman must try and run singles and rotate the strike. I don’t need you to tell me this, and I especially don’t need you to pretend that you’re telling the player this and I’m somehow intruding. And I don't want you to hammer it in ceaselessly, ball after ball, over after over. Keep quiet instead.

All I want from you is to use your expert knowledge to tell me things I would not have spotted, not to state the bleeding obvious all the time. Tell me what’s happening in the game, don’t constantly tell me what they should or should not be doing.

I switched to the Hindi commentary for a while, but there they were about to start weeping because Dhoni wasn’t able to take a single despite being expressly shouted at by Arun Lal to do so, so then I just turned the volume off.

Reform, please. Remove these grandfathers.

***

Somebody said to me today that some matches in this series have been fixed. Doubtful. I know that large sums of money are involved in betting, but the people who probably stand the most to gain from fixing these matches would not be happy with the way things have gone, and so are not likely to have influenced the result. Perhaps people stand to gain with the series going down to the last game, having placed bets accordingly, maybe, but there are others who would gain more from fixing the game, possibly in another direction.

The Twenty20 World Cup organisers stand more to gain from the series being a flop. If India lost 5-2 or 6-1, it would raise the attractiveness of the shorter format. After all, they’re pitching Twenty20 as a substitute for, and not a complement to, the 50-over version. What better way is there of promoting your version than by watching the rival version lose its appeal entirely? If I were a sponsor of this upcoming World Cup, I would have been quite keen to ensure that India lost badly, further disillusioning viewers with the 50-over game. That it has gone to the wire means that even if we lose on Saturday we will have saved some prestige. The 50-over version will not have lost all its fans.

***

Change tack.

I have studied economics for about five years now, and have always preferred microeconomics over macro. Macro has somehow always seemed vague, unspecified, full of hand-waving, lacking structure, and being plain uninteresting. Micro on the other hand was where I always found the fun bits. Over my five years of economics, therefore, I must have done only a handful of macro courses, devoting most of the rest to micro.

It is ironic, then, that the work I do now is entirely related to macroeconomics. It means that I don’t know anything at all. The good thing, I suppose, is that I don’t come in with any pre-conceived ideas, which is important in the kind of opinionated environment I’m in, and the opinionated subject that economics is in general. Everything I know about macro now I have learnt here, and from a practical side too. No theory baggage. It’s pretty interesting, as it turns out, when it is outside the charts and models of textbooks.

Macro is the businessman’s economics. GDP, trade, per capita income, currency markets, credit crunches, bond yields, risk/return profiles – these are of concern to those in the business of making money, as I am now. But micro is where it’s at, still. Micro is about people, preferences, interactions, motivations, strategy – things I find so much more interesting. It is the human side of economics, and to study it you need to study human beings.

I think I’ll go back to it soon. Give me a few months in here and I’ll be out.

***

There are changes afoot. Interesting times ahead.

A Liquidity Crisis

2007-08-27T19:35:00.000+05:30

I spend too much time at work. My brain is fried. Please excuse this.

***

Liquidity conditions finally reached breaking point last week after threatening to do so for several months.

I had been running a sizeable current account deficit for the past fortnight, with irregular meals in frequency and quantity terms. This had been exaggerated by lavish consumer spending and a very low effective savings rate. It was most irresponsible governance on my part, being swayed by short-term distractions over long-term objectives.

Staying out late, and of course bingeing on non-value-add commodities began to put the domestic economy in peril. Large scale capital inflows threatened to disrupt the system but symptoms were ignored at every stage. The giddiness induced by these flows distorted rational thinking. It was expected, perhaps naively, that years of strict external monitoring of inflows would have inculcated a sense of responsibility and self-control.

However, most of this capital was highly liquid, and thus destabilising and unreliable. Well-wishers and other analysts spotted this risk early. At the slightest hint of trouble, they said, the most liquid levels of capital would begin to make a rapid exit. In the absence of a robust constitution and other stabilising mechanisms this would lead to a spiral of capital flight and severe disinflation. That most of the productive economy had been largely channeled into unproductive uses such as discretionary spending became clear only later, when capital began to flow out in copious quantities.

Meanwhile the inflows began to inflate asset prices, leading to a bubble. Large inflows of select liquid instruments aggravated this problem, as they settled in the most illiquid sectors of the economy. Later, in the first few moments of the crisis, this bubble transformed into heavy-duty hyperinflation, rendering all kinds of corrective policy useless. It didn’t help, of course, that policy flexibility became severely limited by the extent of the bloat.

As usual, the crisis was triggered by a one-off influx of bad debt. One night, after an especially heavy dose of external commercial borrowing of highly liquid instruments, the economy’s creaking infrastructure finally gave way. The first sectors to give way were the processing units. Not only did they begin to reject further imports, but a large scale employee strike ensured that existing inventory was forcibly ejected. Major arterial transport routes became clogged. Several deals that were in the pipeline were indefinitely delayed.

Coordination failure was compounded by nervousness about the extent of the damage. The policymaking units, blinded by the flood, found themselves overwhelmed by the volatility in conditions, and thus unable to react suitably. The resulting lack in coordination amongst the various limbs of the economy further worsened the situation. Capital began to flow out in no uncertain measure. The economy flitted between states of overheating and extreme cooling. Belated attempts to impose outflow controls aggravated the situation by sending the wrong risk signals to the market. The least risk averse sectors resumed their copious consumption, only to be knocked flat by the collapse of everything else around them. The energy shortage was compounded by the noisy and polluting implosion of the wind-power sector.

As often happens, over the next few days a regime of overflowing liquidity quickly transformed into one where none was available. All the liquidity that had until then been sloshing around unrestricted, vanished overnight, only to be replaced by tight and painful credit conditions. Monetary tightening ensued. The atmosphere of mistrust spread quickly, with the agencies responsible for distributing liquidity highly reluctant to do so. Consumer sentiment took a hit. Production came to a grinding halt. Deflation was proving unavoidable. The whole economy was paralysed.

External aid too proved ineffective. Allies and regional superpowers tried their best to streamline the economy by injecting the right types of liquidity and extending a performance-based line of credit, but to no avail. Domestic conditions had deteriorated too far by then. A relapse looked imminent.

But soon the chronic absence of liquidity began to hurt. The innards of the economy were sluggish, and the quality of manufacturing output lacked standard or consistency. It was clear that reform was needed, and ultimately it was only the threat of physical military violence by monitoring agencies that catalysed it. Domestic policymakers were forcibly made to understand the need for rapid restructuring and altering of this highly consumer lifestyle, and pushed down a path of reform that (albeit reluctantly) continues to this very day.

The economy is in better shape now. Good enough, in fact, to sustain much larger liquid inflows than before. Real sector reform has paid off in the long run. Stricter monitoring standards, a shorter line of credit, a better balance in the current account, a higher savings rate, controlled discretionary spending, and quarterly progress reports to regional supremos have now lowered the possibility of a repeat outbreak. The days of lavish consumer living have now faded into merely a cherished memory.

There’s nothing like a stomachache. Or jargon. I hate them both.

"Hello, I'm Sea Link..."

2007-08-13T19:12:00.000+05:30

…”come and join me.”

Many years later, a kid turns to his papa and asks, “Why is this silly narrow land-locked elevated road called the Sea Link? Where is the link to the sea?”

“Have you heard the story of South Extension in Delhi, son?”

***

Mumbai is in many ways an epitome of India’s modernisation – the old versus the new and all the change it brings.

(Warning: As you read this you may have to play jumping-castle-paratroopers with your sense of belief, but that’s okay right? Anyway, if you’ve been here before then you’re probably used to it by now.)

Mumbai. How can it be an epitome of anything except disaster? After all, it’s got nothing going for it. Everything creaks or has broken down long ago. There are so many people that they now stack vertically. Property prices have gone upwards and have probably reached Adam Smith their maker by now. Daily life is an incomprehensible struggle that leaves you waking with a start in the middle of the night with fists clenched. The only thing that functions is the train and I’ve had enough of it already, fists or otherwise. By all reckoning it’s more like the armpit of modernisation.

No. But still. Even though I suffer from all of these and a few more, I still think things are poised for change, even if the rate is glacial. These things may never change, but something else will.

Let me explain.

What’s holding Mumbai’s modernisation efforts up is the lack of land, clearly. There is not enough of it, and not in the places that matter. They tried to fix this by selling Navi Mumbai as a Realtor and Business Dream, but it didn’t work. It might have if enough families and businesses with people-pulling-power had moved there, but then who would leave the warm embrace of Cuffe Parade? As a result, Navi Mumbai is full of either shmucks or people taking a bit of time off from the city. As a result, it is more like the Suburban Householder’s Post-Lunch-Daydream. (No I haven’t been to Navi Mumbai yet, so feel free to prove me wrong.)

The other way out of the land problem is of course to make more land. This isn’t all that farfetched; after all, it has been a solution of choice for the past 300 years or so – you know, the whole seven-islands-become-one thing. Now this hasn’t been done for a while, not least because those who currently inhabit sea-facing property are not much enthused by the idea of suddenly living inland.

What this has meant is that sea-facing property has seen a rapid upsurge in price, which has in turn pulled up property prices in neighbouring areas; naturally, since the space is the same while incomes and populations have expanded. In the same way as water does, prices tend to find their own level, so rents have gone up across the board.

This upward movement has continued pretty much unabated. Prices have been propped by people who can pay them. Those who can’t, squeeze in somewhere or the other. Yet people keep coming.

Why do they come? Because fundamentally Mumbai is an attractive place. The churning in the services and the financial sector that we have seen in recent years is heavily based here. This is where you come if you have ambition (or where realise you shouldn’t be if you don’t, as in my case.) Our own land of opportunity, but there’s no land to be had.

So there are two sides in conflict. On one hand there is the landed establishment, set in its ways, reluctant to see change. It uses several arguments to bolster its case, including the preservation of the beauty of the current coastline. On the other hand there is the milling, jostling crowd, aching for just that little bit of additional space. And in the middle is the land that they fight over, and its price.

In the final analysis things are determined by who wields the political battle-axe, and so far there has been only one winner. Now I won’t go so far as to say that the balance of political power itself has changed, but a recent (and somewhat insidious) development might be the first throw of the dice.

I mean, as you will have gathered by now, the sea link. I spent many days wondering how this project will work. Given that the road arches out into the sea and back again, there can’t possibly be stops along the way. Moreover, if there are no turn-off areas, a single car stalled can back the traffic up for miles. Not just this, it seems to me that all this will do is take some of the load off the inner roads and instead dump it on the meeting points of Bandra, Worli, and Nariman Point. If traffic comes flying along the sea link and comes to a dead halt two kilometres from land with nowhere to go… well, you get the unpleasant picture.

But that’s not the point. Like everything else in this city, this project too will somehow work. Maybe they’ve even thought of these problems. But what they probably haven’t thought of is what I feel is likely to be the biggest and most unintended consequence of this project.

See, the unbroken sea view is gone. No longer will you be able to sit on Worli Seaface or Marine Drive and stare unfettered into the horizon. Now, at some (perhaps considerable) distance, you will see a road, with lots of cars going up and down.

The unbroken sea view, the greatest attraction of the really expensive bits of Mumbai, what in my opinion was the single biggest factor in holding the coastline to its present shape, is gone. They’ve given an inch. The yards will follow. The sea link beckons.

How long will it be before economics overpowers the establishment? How long before the huge pressure of space, and the huge increase in the number of people able and willing to pay for it, changes the Mumbai landscape? Maybe the next generation of homeowners will not be quite so averse to selling their land. All we need is a pioneering real estate developer, preferably someone with political connections.

In any case, as you move outwards, there will always be a coastline to fight over. There will always be pretty bits. Meanwhile prices inland will fall, and more people will live happily ever after.

And all it will have taken is a sea link. And the spoiling of a view.

A Higher Station

2007-08-01T17:03:00.000+05:30

It’s 7.45am, and I’m sitting on a train that has left Bombay Central a few minutes ago, roaring its way down past an assorted set of decrepit little stations. I boarded the train about 15 minutes ago at Churchgate, which by contrast is grand, and clearly a remnant of an earlier civilisation. For that matter, Bombay Central too has been built to impress, with columned arches to greet the long-distance traveller, and small gulleys that usher in the local commuters. The smaller stations that we’ve raced past so far seem like last-minute additions to the map, hastily tacked on at arbitrary intervals and not paid much attention.

I’m on what they call a fast train. This appears more to do with the frequency with which the train actually stops, and bears less connection with the speed of travel. But it is relatively fast; given the number of slow trains we’ve overtaken already. And I must say it’s smooth and – though it might be too early to say – punctual.

It’s my first time on a Mumbai local. I carry with me a head full of vicarious experience though, having heard countless stories about the ups and downs of this particular means of transport. Watch out for this, look out for that. People falling out, the immense crowd, the crazy activity at stations… I’m perhaps a little too forewarned.

So far it’s been peaceful though. Having boarded at the first stop, that too on a fast train, travelling in first class, going against the traffic – I have had no adventure yet. This is all too easy, I think to myself, although I am not foolish enough to think that I’ve seen everything.

The train pulls to a halt. There is no station to be seen; instead the eye is greeted by the sight of a stream of people walking along a nearby track, making their way to a small gap in the adjoining wall. On the other side of a wall is another stream of people walking in the opposite direction. They meet at the gap, and except for the occasional skirmish, people cross peacefully. How civilised everyone is. In Delhi not only would there be no trace of a queue, the gap in the wall would be absolute madness with everyone trying to pass at the same time.

The train moves again, slowly at first and then picking up speed. I’m not sure where we’ve reached, but I don’t think it’s anywhere significant, especially seeing the small, unassuming station that we’re approaching. It’s not unlike the last few we’ve sped past, and I don’t expect to stop here either.

And then I behold a scene that I may never forget.

I see a sea of people, more people than I have ever seen in one place before. There are people everywhere. There is no room on the platform; indeed, there is no platform to be seen. Every square inch of space has a foot standing on it. The nearest row of people is so close to the train that I could poke someone in the eye through the narrow grill of the window. You cannot see the stairs, nor anything but the very tops of the stalls on the platform. All you know is that those things must be stairs, because people’s heads make a shape that resembles stairs. You can only assume that their feet make the same pattern.

The train stops and a crazy exchange takes place. A thousand people get on, as a thousand people get off. The train shakes with the weight and frenzy of the transfer. Not even fifteen seconds later, all is quiet. Everyone on the train is calm, smiling and talking. The platform is empty. Where a few seconds earlier you could not lift an arm without hitting someone, now you can have a race. Absolute madness.

The announcement on the platform loudspeaker crashes through the train, and finds an echo in my head for seconds afterwards. “Welcome to Dadar”. Welcome to Mumbai it could have said, where your world will turn on its head. A very sweet sounding voice on the PA system on the train says ‘Dadar’ in three languages, very lovingly. It sounds like Dadar in all three languages.

Dadar. The ultimate pit-stop. Mecca to a million. You’d never imagine, in the quiet hours of the early morning or late, late night, the mayhem that characterises this narrow little station in the daytime. The two main local train lines in Mumbai intersect here. Anybody who has to change trains therefore (and there are thousands who do) must get off at Dadar, change platform, and board a new train. When you factor in all the other travellers, the extremely narrow platforms, and the overflowing trains, I think you get the picture.

Bravely I tell people that one day I will do the ‘Dadar experience’ – climbing on to a Virar fast at 7pm on a slow train in ordinary class. But that ‘one day’ doesn’t look like it will be anytime soon. It is a scary sight, and a downright scarier experience. I am not afraid to admit it: Dadar intimidates me.

So when a few days later I find myself at Dadar at 6am, I am a little worried. Rather than going to work, I’m going home this time around. And rather than passing Dadar in the safety of a train, this time I have to board here. It’s a Saturday morning, and I’ve been up all of the previous night up to all manner of no good, and my brain activity resembles my liver – soft, squelchy, and about to pack up.

I’ve been travelling by train everyday for a while now, so I think I’m used to it, and I know what to do. ‘Churchgate fast kahaan?’ I ask one passerby. He points vaguely forwards. ‘Teen number’, he says. Okay. Platform 3. I have no reason to doubt him; people are usually very helpful here. But Dadar scares me so I take my time to get my bearings. Don’t want to get lost in any crowd. Not here of all places.

I walk on the overhead bridge past the stairs to Platform 1, and to another, non-numbered platform. That must be Number 2, I think, as I climb down the next set of stairs.

It’s a few minutes before dawn, and the sky is slowly getting lighter. There are only a few people on any of the platforms, but the rate of activity is increasing. A large group of women with fish-laden baskets stand around talking. One of them desultorily chases away the crows that gather around the baskets. The usual assortment of aimless looking men dot the platform. The electronic signboards that announce the next train have been switched off. I sit down on a bench and wait. I can barely stay awake, and it’s even harder to stay upright.

Fifteen minutes. About four trains have passed by in the opposite direction from the platforms on both sides of me. Not one train has passed by here. I think about having a nap but realise that it would be a mistake. Heaven knows when I would wake. The sun is almost over the horizon by now. The bench I am sitting on is now occupied by two other people. Strangely, they keep glancing over their shoulder to the platform behind us.

When another ten minutes goes by without any luck or train, I decide to go back up to the bridge to see what’s going on. All other platforms are getting progressively filled with people. Even in my current state I can feel a momentary surge of panic. I’m not in any condition to display any nimble footwork. If it gets crowded I’m in deep shit. Why is my platform empty though?

On my way up, I notice a big sign that I somehow had failed to register on the way down. This is Platform 2. Great. Dadar 1 – Me 0. Up the stairs I go sheepishly, and down the stairs I go, careful to check that this is really Platform 3. It is.

A train is slowly pulling up as I reach the bottom of the stairs. I see 7.10, I think I see a C for Churchgate, and triumphantly I climb in. The train is almost empty, and I sit down by a window. I’ve managed to limit the damage, I crow to myself. My first experience of Dadar, and I’ve gotten away unscathed.

The train reaches a small station, slows down, and then stops. Okay, so I’m clearly not on a fast train. Worse, I look up to see the name, and it isn’t Elphinston Road, which is where we should be right now – the first station from Dadar. It’s some other Road, and I haven’t seen it before.

Panic. I didn’t fall asleep, did I? I’m not in the wrong train, am I? Images of a journey to Dombivali flash through my head. I completely forgot about the two lines that cross at Dadar. I’m clearly on the wrong line though, as this station doesn’t appear on the one I frequent.

I don’t get off though. I’m never one for precipitate action, and certainly not in this state. My heart sinks as I realise that I some point I will have to backtrack, and then it plummets out of sight when I realise that I will be back at Dadar, at something around 8am, peak madness time. And to top it all, my bladder is full. And to compound every possible misery, I have only 30 rupees in my pocket. Rules out any cowardly escape by taxi.

Straightforward as I’m sure this experience will be in hindsight, after a long sleep and in sober retelling, the real one is anything but. I stand to make sure I don’t fall asleep. My mind tells me its racing, but its only going in circles. I’ve even lost track of the score. If I am truly headed towards Dombivali, then that’s basically a knockout blow. Anyway Dadar wins on points. The train moves on.

Ah! God bless everything! I see Parel. At least I’m going in the right direction. I almost pass out in relief. My brain meanwhile takes its time to make the necessary connections, and about three minutes later presents me with an obvious conclusion. I’m going to end up at VT, not Churchgate. I don’t believe it too strongly though until we actually reach VT and I get off. A new set of problems awaits me though.

I have only 30 rupees. I have to go far enough to make it touch-and-go as far as taxi is concerned. I don’t know bus routes. I’m also hungry, not having eaten in several hours and have been looking forward to anda bhurji at Churchgate. I’m nowhere near Churchgate. Something has to give.

Should I take a taxi to Churchgate? Then I won’t have money to eat. Should I take a bus? I don’t know which one and bloody hell it will take forever and I have to take a leak. Should I go straight home? I’ll have money left over but then I’ll be hungry and won’t be able to sleep.

Empty head. Full bladder. Empty stomach. Empty pockets.

I ate at VT and took a taxi home. What else would you have done?

Khatam Naheen Hua (Chew TA)

2007-07-29T12:58:00.000+05:30

"Mumbai is the main place
Where you survive if you've got the pace.
You got to be fast, you got to be tez
You got to be sure now to win the race."

Or was it mean place? I can't remember.

They should put this up on a big billboard outside the airport. Just before you begin racing. I mean, there's no point putting in in fairy stories and film songs. Then you think it only happens in fairy stories and film songs.

What a place, man. It has the cumulative effect of a swift, well-placed kick. Run or be run over. I'm still recovering.

Anyway, this is just to say that a heart still beats in this there damn blog. Now if I can sort out some regular access to it, maybe the posts will return too.

So much to say. But an update in brief: I'm in Mumbai, kept from sun and sea by a depressing nine-to-niner. My benevolent employer has performed complicated dark magic to keep me from any distractions, which includes the blog apparently. But perseverance will pay off.

When I get a chance to write, a flavour of things to come:

Two to three to four: the multiplying voices in my head
I am the velcro man
A Saturday raindance and other maritime misadventures
In the belly of the beast: big company, small me
6am at Dadar: Look before you leap
Apartment hunting in Mumbai - rated PG

And probably some more. I pray for internet soon. So, I might add, should you.

An Unspectacular Debut

2007-05-30T14:00:00.000+05:30

I wrote an article and it got published. It's all very exciting. Well, not so much the article itself (which sounds sagely but isn't), but more that it got published.

Someone out there is listening ha ha!

*

Combining an ineffective regulator with adventurous producers and anxious consumers invariably causes conflict. The alcohol industry in India has always been an example, and now the higher education sector seems headed in the same direction.

Conditions are just right for the consolidation of a parallel, unregulated and unofficial market for higher education, at least for technical subjects such as management.

The regulator in this case is the All India Council for Technical Education (AICTE). It grants approvals and maintains norms and standards that it sets. But these norms are now outmoded, and regulation has given way to a tangle of files, committees and other bureaucratic inevitabilities.

But the good news is that the adventurous spirit that now characterises Indian markets may yet cause reform where others have failed.

What’s new is that now in the education market — comprising educational institutions, students and the potential employers of graduates — all three parties are willing to share quality- and price-associated risks. The net effect is to create a dynamic alternative market which bypasses the regulatory environment altogether.

So there are now institutes, especially management ones, which function without AICTE approval (for instance, ISB). Students enrol in these institutes although they lack official sanction. And at the end of the chain, employers snap up the graduates, even though they may only hold diplomas. The AICTE — and therefore regulation — features nowhere.

The risk is not just of price and quality, but also of being declared illegitimate. Though each of the three parties ends up bearing only part of this risk, this is in sharp contrast to the more cautious environment of yesteryears when nobody undertook any risk and only official approval mattered.

There is then a clear shift in signalling — where value now counts more than legitimacy. And this trend is catching on. In effect, the market is forcing the regulator to modernise itself.

This is most welcome. Indeed, there is a lot to gain from a state of less regulation and more institutional freedom. For example, a dynamic private sector will facilitate the development of an education system that is more responsive to changing times. India’s economic growth will continue to create new jobs and there will be a constant need for new and regularly updated educational programmes. The market is usually better placed to respond to these changes.

However, there are dangers in an unregulated market. At the very least, there must be some standardisation of degree requirements for the labour market to be effective.

Though initially employers may have tie-ups with unregulated institutions, future employers may not feel secure without being able to verify and compare the quality of education received, and may not hire such candidates. Appetites for risk are notably fickle, and a shift in the opposite direction is not out of the question. Moreover, standardisation will also help institutions set transparent admissions criteria.

Regulation is also crucial in the case of professional colleges, where sub-standard graduates can cause much harm. People need confidence in their doctors or lawyers, and a regulated, reputed degree helps. Anyway, Indian consumers are price sensitive and education is a politically sensitive subject, so institutions are unlikely to be left to their own devices. This is especially true given that student mobility and financial resources are still limited.

But though the need for regulation is not in doubt, market dynamism coupled with the highly bureaucratic system is certain to further a parallel unregulated market. This is counter-productive in the long run.

Instead, incentives should be created for institutions to stay within the system. This will unify the market and eventually improve the regulator’s reach and scope. But this can only be done by first relaxing control.

*

The glorious link? Here.

Just Wondering...

2007-05-15T18:55:00.000+05:30

You are the leader of a powerful alliance of countries that have come together in response to being attacked by terrorists. As leader, you have certain goals.

One of these goals is to do away with religious fundamentalists in Countries A and B, because they are the most notable sponsors of the organisations that have been bombing your countries.

You also enlist the help of Country C, itself a major sponsor of those terrorist organisations, but lucky enough to have convenient geographical positioning and a way with words.

You know that if Countries A, B, or C have civilian regimes then things will be difficult. Action will not be taken quickly enough, too many people will have a say in what can be allowed to happen, and generally things are not conducive for decisive action.

You are, of course, fortunate that none of the three countries has a civilian regime. One is ruled by a dictator that you want out, the other by a group of tribal warlords that you placed there yourself, and the third by an army leader whose anti-democratic moves you silently condone, especially for the reasons mentioned above.

This Country C, ruled by a military dictator, poses the biggest challenge. (Countries A and B have been blasted out of existence and it is up to whoever is interested to pick up the pieces.)

From your alliance's point of view, it is good to let the military leader, General D, rule Country C as long as possible. He has proven to be malleable, responds to your demands, and makes the right noises, even if you don't know what he is up to when your back is turned.

But General D has an interest to stay in power. His biggest opposition to remaining in power comes from Political Parties E and F, that each ruled the country before the transfer of power to the military. Parties E and F look to consolidate their power base while 'in opposition' so that the next time there is an election they might have a chance again.

General D does not like this. The only thing he can do to prevent this political unrest from becoming a movement against his rule is by weakening Parties E and F. Sending their leaders into exile is all very well, but the power void must be filled by someone.

Enter Fundamentalist Parties G and H. General D courts their friendship and appeases them, because he doesn't see them as a power threat (just yet) and because their support renders Political Parties E and F ineffective. Fundamentalist Parties G and H may even win the next election.

If Fundamentalist Parties G and H win, or even grow in strength, then this boosts the case of all subsidiary fundamentalist organisations in the region. Country C has already been a Bad Boy, selling objectionable pictures and diagrams to other local bullies. Goodness knows what will happen if these guys come to power.

As leader of the alliance, you watch all this. The very fundamentalists whom you wanted to de-fang have been made more powerful by the very military leader whom you recruited to be on your side. You have strengthened your own enemies through your convenient mutual friend's self interests.

What do you do now? Make friends with Neighbour I, busily portraying itself as Another Victim and A Good Guy, just to add some more masala to the regional stew that brews?

Nah. Go play some golf.