Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Mud bath

Is said to be most excellent for the skin. We are here today, however, to discuss quite another kind of mud.

Strange things have been afoot in the land of JUDE. Strange and, unfortunately, extremely unfortunate. JUDE is, as is widely acknowledged, a most wonderful place of intellectual stimulation, uncensored thought processes and, need we even say it, academic excellence. And yet, yet, the one thing that really stands out – indeed, visitors never fail to notice it, often wistfully – is the warm camaraderie between faculty and students. The Peep writes beautifully and with characteristic zest about it. Which is why, at first, some really unfunny things seem like a bad practical joke someone dreamed up. If only.

Now that the matter has been reported in both the print and electronic media, we feel a certain responsibility towards events as we saw them happen, and hence this post. And before we start, I would like to make it very clear that the honorific of the lecturer in question is Mister. Not Doctor.

1. Early last November (it really started in October), a lecturer of the department accused two female undergraduates in their first year (UG I) of sexually harassing him. The matter apparently stemmed from a tutorial essay on the poetry of William Blake: the lecturer believed that a particular quotation from an assigned text, ('Oh rose thou art sick') used to answer a question about that assigned text, was actually an implied slur at him.
A few days later, he said that it wasn't simply the quotation; other students had scribbled messages--in unrecognisable block capitals--in the margins and within the body of their answerscripts. A further few days later, he went on to claim that one of the accused had written a letter to his wife claiming that she (the student, not the wife) was having an affair with him, and that the wife should visit and talk to the head of the department (who is mentioned by name) about it.
When this letter was produced, it turned out to be a text documented that had been printed out, making identification via handwriting impossible. Did it arrive in an envelope? Was it attached to an email? None of it was discussed at all. Instead, the lecturer held up this letter to the TV camera, summarised its contents on a chat show, and disclosed the student's name to the enormous viewing audience. The channel advertised the show as "Sex Scandal at JU!"
We will not detail the reactions of the students in question, who are fresh out of school and were at that point not even one full semester old in the department.

The matter caused a certain amount of complete shock in the department. It came out that the lecturer had forced the girl in question to scribble a note of apology to him, which was now being used as further proof of her actions.
Further, the lecturer extracted a promise from all students in his optional courses: 

a. not to contact him outside class, even for academic reasons 

b. not to discuss him with anybody.
If any of his students found the second demand arbitary, unreasonable and an imposition on the right to free speech, they did not voice it. So it was doubly galling to later see TV commentators label these students as rebellious, disrespectful, and disruptive.

2. At the beginning of the second semester (which began on the 2nd of January), the concerned lecturer put up a notice on one of the department's notice boards, stating that a large number of answerscripts from the previous semester's end-semester examinations were 'disputed'. Should the students concerned want to know what this meant, they should contact the Registrar. The proper channel of a complaint being always through the head of the department, this baffled students, as did the word 'disputed'. However, the lecturer, after having precipitated the situation, categorically refused to explain the reason behind the 'dispute', or comment further on the matter.

3. The students, upon meeting the Registrar, discovered that the lecturer had complained to the Vice Chancellor about them scribbling explicit messages to him in their answerscripts (the tally was 16 out of 19 students). He had formally complained about being sexually harassed on a mass-scale by the overwhelming majority of his students. The department was abuzz with this allegation, and students began wondering if this was a novel way of victimising young women from someone in a position of power. Within days of this speculation gaining ground, the lecturer delcared that he 'missed' certain scribblings on three more answerscripts. All of these answerscripts turned out to have been written by male students.
This may be irrelevant to those outside the department, for it is our subjective opinion formed over four years of close interaction, but most of the students in question were quiet, introverted individuals--quite the opposite of the Jadavpur Arts stereotype. This will be relevant later.

4. An investigation was carried out by the Registrar, in which the lecturer and all students mentioned were interrogated. The students denied the accusation of harassment. Some of them pointed out that scribbled messages within the body of their answerscripts was the surest way to get into trouble, and maybe even be disqualified. Why would they--all of them with decent grades so far--take such an insane risk?
The lecturer, on the other hand, has refused to hand in the 'disputed' answerscripts to the enquiry commission. The enquiry commission's report has been deferred for almost three weeks now because the evidence of the answerscripts is not accessible to it. All he had furnished the Registrar with are photocopies of a few of them. Although he denied it on TV, the university had in fact asked him to submit the answerscripts, but he didn't responded to that request. Finally, after 5 months of stagnation, the Vice Chancellor has formally written to him on Monday, the 12th of March 2007,  asking him to return withheld university property.
  
In the meanwhile results of nearly 130 postgraduate students have been held up indefinitely, half of whom complete the degree in approximately three months time. Their careers--academically or otherwise--are similiarly indefinitely on hold. Had they been guilty of misconduct, this punishment might have been deserved, but the very person who had levelled allegations against them is the one now blocking the investigation. It's all rather confusing. Also, since the lecturer has been recused from conducting examinations till the investigation is concluded, the course that he has offered this semester are floundering without a coordinator, leaving even more students in a quandry.

This, in a nutshell, is what has been happening at the department for the last five months. Now on the 11th of March, Hindustan Times carried one version of the story (with a glaring error: the Registrar did not direct the Sexual Harassment Cell to start an enquiry. The students were obliged to lodge a complaint themselves), and Tara News, Star Anondo, Zee News and India TV arrived on the campus on Monday the 12th. Tara TV conducted a long live session with the lecturer and his wife in the studio and a team on campus. Here are some comments I would like to make in my personal capacity on the show:

1. Journalistic ethics is a much debated issue and is indeed in a state of flux to accomodate constantly changing situations. However to conceal from those about to be interviewed that the lecturer was present at the studio and would be interacting with the students (the anchor Sayan explictly says this was Tara's aim) and lying outright about beaming disputed answerscripts live is not exactly ethically exalted. And the repeated employment of the term 'sex scandal exclusive' to convince viewers not to change the channel is, for lack of a more exopressive phrase, extremely cheap.

2. The ethics of some of the other people involved can, I think, be freely questioned. I personally feel it is utterly distasteful--if not illegal, for the matter is currently sub-judice--for a lecturer to present photocopies of answerscripts he has been entrusted with and which is confidential university property on live television, and repeatedly ask the crew to zoom in and show the sexually explicit, if inane, messages scribbled on them. I quote the gentleman: "[It] exceeds all limits of decency, I cannot say it... aapnara dekhate parle bhalo hoy (it would be good if you could broadcast this)."
I hope I'm not the only one who gets the irony and hypocrisy in this statement. Besides which he showed no hesistancy at all in naming the student who allegedly wrote his wife an explicit letter, with no regard for the fact that this is merely an allegation unsupported by any proof whatsoever and which has been categorically denied by the student in question. However he is very quick to point out that the charges brought against him by 16 PG students is 'only allegations' and can therefore not be referred to in an argument.

3. Some of the reactions to the show--aptly called a natok (drama) by the anchor, albeit it appeared to be a slip of tongue--were frankly terrifying. One woman took very strong exception to the students occasionally speaking in English (although the lecturer's use of the language were fine by her)--this despite them belonging to an English department--and expressed a deep desire to punish them physically. She also expressed astonishment at the nerve of the students to defend themselves when accused by a faculty member, and blamed their parents for raising 'rebels'. A man derided the Registrar for being 'too lenient'. He heartily approved of the beating the engineering faculty students took from the police sometime back, and recommended that course of action for these students as well.

The general consensus about JU students seemed to be that they are a morally decadent and sexually depraved lot, that corrupt society with their English-speaking elitism. This has been repeated often in the media in these last few days. The point, however, is this: should a group that is perceived as 'elitist' be subjected to hypothetical beatings by the police, or the very real (and illegal) withholding of their answerscripts, and therefore degrees, by an adult in charge of their education? Using prejudice to justify misconduct against a targetted body of people--isn't that what civil society stands against? Slightly tangential to the issue, but the whole 'They deserved it, those drug-addicted English-speaking leftists!' rather reminds me of the 'She asked for it!' rhetoric, so frequently employed against victims of rape and molestation.

4. And finally, we have the SC/ST question once again. All of a sudden, a question of sexual misconduct and breach of trust between a teacher and his or her students becomes overshadowed by the caste issue. Mrs. Lecturer took special pains to point out her husband's status as a 'quota recruit' should be noted for future reference because the sexual harassment he was facing, the legal trouble he was in for not returning the answerscripts, and the travails he shall doubtless face in the future, are all because of his caste. Now, given India's history--and indeed, the current environment--automatically assigning a degree of truth to such accusations seems reasonable, for the probablity of it being true is exceptionally high. Except that in this case, there are studeents in hat class who come from similar social backgrounds. So here's a question for those who wish to align themselves with the lecturer on the basis of his caste alone: now that the caste angle is a level playing field--in that both teacher and student are similarly marginalised, would you continue to support him because of his caste identity? The choice is between a man in the position of power, acting illegally to withhold several careers because his accusations were unfounded; and 130 students whose only demand is that he act according to university rules, and turn in their marks. Choose silently, if you must, for social censure can be corrosive; but choose with your conscience.

******
NOTE: certain details have been left out of this account because undoubtedly important and influential though those details are, we do not as yet have either permission or tangible proof to publish them. These include biographical detail of people concerned. Although a few of these have been mentioned on television already, I would appreciate if those reading and kind enough to leave comments desist from mentioning them, as well as the confidential updates, here. Thank you.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Moving Houses

Dear everybody still subscribed to this blog,

You're peaches and cream, fish and rice, and absolute sweethearts dipped in chocolate for sticking with this fossil all these years. It's certainly more than I've done.

Because, you see, while you weren't looking, I sneaked off first to the food blog, and now I've jumped ship entirely, and blog here: http://priyankanandy.com/.

Vile perfidy, I know. But treachery, like misery, loves company, and if you could find time in your busy, busy schedules to hop over to the new blogs and subscribe to them, as you did to this one, I'd love you ten times more.

(Which is a lot of love, believe you me).

See you in newer pastures then, folks! The last one to hit the new blog's it!

Much love,

Rimi

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Is god a capital thing?

Apparently, when gods and goddesses raise waves in one part of the world, reverbrations are felt throughout the globe. They have superpowers like that.

It's hasn't been a full day that the goddess has been sent ceremonially back to her abode via the river (bon voyage, au revoir!), and already there's an email in my inbox from the other hemisphere, enquiring whether the 'right' way to write the divine is with or without a capital 'g'. That is, should it be 'god', or should it be 'God'?

It's a difficult question, unless of course one learns one's religion from the holy books--but let's face it, who does? Silver-tongued men and women with a talent for rabble-rousing and a flair for for-profit organising, who kindly reduce thick, dense tomes into concise little bumper stickers, do just fine for us.

So according to the scriptures, if I remember my lessons right, there is no capitalisation required. All contributors seem to agree that god is indeed a capital thing, democratic dissent not being in fashion yet. In fact, the wonderous awesomeness of god is the entire point of the existence of scriptures, and said point being amply illustrated in vivid, video-gamesque details of strategic wars, smiting, blood, gore, rape, sodomy, incest, earthquakes, floods, tropical romps, non-tropical fornication and drunken orgies, no one saw the need to extract respect by inserting the capitalisation clause. People's who witness the parting of the sea have plenty of respect to spare... and were likely illiterate besides, mass literacy not being in fashion either. Besides, of course, there is the small matter of script to consider. Most scripts do not differentiate between cases, thus rendering the question of capitalisation moot.

However, the evolving mainstream has left the core of the scriptures behind everywhere, except maybe the bloodiest and most populace-inciting bits. After all, there is a reason human beings developed aforementioned video games in aforementione vivid details. This reason is called human nature.

Anyway, the current trend of capitalisation in the western hemisphere, which percolates into the rest of the world by way of cultural imperialism and is now taken as the gospel truth by huge chunks of the populace, is arrived at by this simple associative equation: bigger is always better --> god is bigger and better than us poor mortals (though he did created us in his own image, if word on the street is to be believed) --> upper case is bigger, therefore better than lower case --> god deserves the capital G. There are other theories too: some people, admittedly a small minority, expand on the previous argument and claim that 'god' is a grammatical error, since the word does not visually trigger any awe or wonder or respect that the concept of god should in every human heart (or brain). This, of course, is a believer's argument and a semiotician's delight, and the former's biggest opposition to the lowercase 'g' is that it is a calculated offence mounted against their glowing faith by faithless atheists.

There are two further schools of thought on the subject.
  • One patiently explains that God is a proper noun, and don't we all know that proper nouns should be capitalised? To which I say no, it is not. Yahwey is a name, Jesus is a name, Krishna is a name, Brahma is a name. I will even accept the Holy Ghost. I will accept Satan and his entire array of names, even if Satan shares root with the common noun shaitan. But 'god' is not a proper noun (and neither is 'devil', unless one adds a 'the' before it to signify the Abrahamic tradition). It is simply used as such by a culture that, for reasons best known to whoever takes an inerest in these things, have forgotten the name their 'god' chose for himself.
  • The other school of thought militantly declares that monotheistic deities merit God because they are the one true God, while anything in the plural with similar claims are figments of stupid people's imaginations that can at best scrape up a 'god', usually with a qualifying prefix--like Greek, native, tribal, weather--attached, to emphasise its limited scope. Kinder people of the same group say munificently that even polytheistic orders can use God when they speak of any one specific god.

I have no personal arguments at all against any of these theories. Capitalisation of the divine makes no difference to me. But since the question was asked of me I must confess that I prefer the more militant theories of difference ("our God good, your god lame", "athesists are malicious fools") to the faux-tolerant pseudo-logic of capitalisation by numbers. I don't like patronising theories backed up by zero evidence or blatant lies, which is precisely what the last response to the God-god dilemma is. After all, while the 'g' is always capitalised in 'the Old Testament God' or 'the Islamic God'--and those two can have the G since they are decidedly singular entities--it's passed over completely when one very specific god from a pluralist pantheon is mentioned, for example, 'the Greek god Dionysus'. In fact, those with an Anglophone education have internalised the G-g : Christian-nonChrisian bias to such an extent that just seeing phrase 'the Greek God Dionysus' feels odd and wrong, even if we are self-aware enough to wince at the underlying politics of our reaction.

Unfortunately, even the self-aware demography finds it difficult not to reproduce this paradigm of easy respect and easier taboos when writing Devnagari in the Roman script, thus the goddess almost always becomes Devi Durga or Ma Kaali.

The only person to which this discussion might bring pleasure is probably the above-mentioned hypothetical semiotician. Personally, I feel rather self-conscious discussing spiritual matters in public because of the rich, diverse, and therefore slippery nature of the subcontinental spiritual mosaic. One never knows when one might carelessly nick a quiet, pious soul's space of devotion, or stomp on a closet fundamentalist's tail. But even then I'm compelled to say that this entire debate, and a society that enthusiastically grants such debates legitimacy, are sillier than the silliest sillies. After all, no one demands 'bread' be capitalised when speaking of naan because naan is better than sour dough, or declares that a car in traffic is a car but a sole care cruising along the highway is a Car.

And I am firmly in favour of dismissing all silliness.

After I have spoken my extensive piece on the matter, of cours.

Tuesday, June 08, 2010

Sees, Smirks, and Quirks a Sardonic Eyebrow

Which, you must admit, is a commoner reaction than Eats, Shoots, and Leaves, although the latter makes the point much better.

This post is and isn't intended for the Red Marker Blogathon started by Sue over at her blog -- go find the post, I'm too lazy to link. Well, I say "started by Sue", but if you've been a reader here for more than a couple of months, the odd are embarrassingly in favour of you coming across a post where I stamped my foot over the use of language, viciously tore apart bad or merely overlooked grammar, and generally acted all superior while failing to notice the typos that inevitably creep into anything I write. So yes, in a way I consider myself the spiritual parent of this blogathon, and like all spiritual parents, I expect my existence to be hotly debated and finally contemptuously denied and dismissed (very likely by myself, because I'm contrary that way).

I have a lot of peeves with language, and oddly enough they seem to throw themselves at my poor beleaguered eyes most when I read Harry Potter fanfiction (I read fanfiction). It's one of the inevitabilities of reading "happily married mother of three" or "full-time university student, part time writer!" that the stories are less attentive to packaging, and more to getting the brilliant ideas Rowling didn't have out in the world. This frequently results in such easily overlookable* errors such as:
  • 'loose' for 'lose' (as in, "Hermione was afraid that she would loose Professor Snape's love if she underlined his books with a pen/tried to pay his house elves/refused to try BDSM"), 'dare say' for daresay', 'none the less' for 'nonetheless', 'defiantly' for 'definitely'... and so on, and so forth.
  • innovative new verbs, such as 'drug' for 'dragged' ("Draco drug Hermione to the Forbidden Forest and had his wily wicked way with her").
  • mangled 'Britishisms' ("And why are you smiling like an idiot in my class, Mr. Weasley?" "Oh bollocks, we only won the Quidditch Cup this year and I shagged a couple of your quidditch-groupie bints, you greasy git, pip pip!").
  • and a general disregard for such mundane things as subject-verb agreement ("the happy couple went down to the Great Hall and ate his lunch"), tenses ("I tried to tell Draco he is my soulmate, but he is refusing to listen to me!") and the careless disinterest in commas which leads to "there's [there+is]" all too frequently becoming "theres", and the non-apostrophied 'yours' often acquiring a superfluous curly dash before the 's'.
*Easily overlookable, that is, by everyone but me, because I'm the Wicked Witch of Languageville and eat mangled words for breakfast.

But lately, it isn't these so much that have been nagging at the edges of my conscience, like a starchy price-tag poking one in the neck. These days, I don't even flinch at the American attachment to extra prepositions ("Draco has been crushing on Hermione, who was sipping on her tea while visting with the Weasleys, who were hating on the Malfoys"). It's difficult to dislike something as innocuous as an ethnic linguistic style without feeling like a horrible grouch, particularly the linguistic style of an ethnic group as friendly and nice as Americans. They will wear down grouchiness with their smiles and acceptance and non-judgemental friendliness... unless of course you live in Iraq or Afghanistan, but that's neither here or there.

No, what has been bothering me is the sheer downturn in the way Bengali is spoken in Calcutta. When we were little 'uns running about, one frequently heard the sentiment that slangs or swear-words were the refuge of the ill-educated. "They use such language because they *cannot* use proper language, and are therefore to be pitied, not copied", was the message sent across from adult quarters. Of course, this argument fell apart if one then accompanied said adult to the fish market and hear him illustratively dispute the freshness of the fish, and consequently the legitimacy of its price, and eventually, should things get so far, the legitimacy of the fishmonger's birth... but it doesn't hold water even without that practical demo. Swearing in Bengali and English, and I imagine in any other language, had till recently been a smorgasboard of wit, quick repartee, a talent for coining puns and aphorisms, and of course, analogies. Swearing, while admittedly not for all ages, was fun. It was colourful, it showed a sharp mind, it showed a sense of humour (although perhaps not a very charitable one), it reflected pop culture, and more importantly, it showed local colour. As one of our professors once said, if there ever was an enclyopaedia of swearing, College Street of the '60s would have a chapter all to itself, and quite a distinctive one at that.

But all that appears to be firmly in the past. Swearing, and I participate in it with alarcity, seems to be the domain of scatological references, largely involving the human posterior or something violently sexual which, frankly, I'm hard-pressed to find even remotely provocative. To "You fucking jackass/asswipe/piece of shit, I fucked your mother up the ass and shoved my cock down her throat!" [quoting verbatim from a Central Square fight last weekend] and it's Bengali equivalent, I merely yawn. If I'm in the mood, I might toss out a few choice words of my own, but it's more from a sense of social obligation. If someone calls me a fucking bitch, I feel I owe it to the social contract to call him a sodding cunt -- an interesting physical conundrum, by the way -- or put on superior amused face and walk away, but there's no heart in the exchange anymore. And there certainly is no mind.

I just wish people would stop being so blasé about their invectives and start taking it seriously again--which is to say, start taking it not seriously at all. Men and boys sitting on 'rocks' trading barbs used to be a fucking linguistic and humourous subculture, not a prelude to fistfights and escalated tension for the next three months. Even sexual harassment used to be funny, and therefore somehow more easily ignored or taken in one's stride. After all, a bunch of boys who get their rocks off by asking you to turn your jaggery jugs at them somehow send out the signal that they are unlikely to zoom past you in a jeep, pull you in, rape and beat you, and leave you for dead by the highway, or slit your neck in an alley. It somehow didn't go with the spirit.

It's like as a culture and a world, we've forgotten to laugh at ourselves and others around us, and this taking-ourselves-too-seriously business has made our egos that much more fragile and prone to violence. There'll be a few words, suddenly someone will declare themselves offended, mothers will come into the conversation, and next thing you know the police are bottlenecking your street and there are black eyes all around. Since clearly we cannot have a world free of harrassment or fights, by every god there is, can we just please have the (relatively) harmless little resvoirs of local wits back? It might just go a fraction of an inch in restoring my faith in humanity.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Truman's Sixty

I just had a blazing row with someone about something that I try hard not to discuss in a social setting--'development' as a concept, and how we botch an already botched concept in implementation. And in some ways my disappointment was rooted deeply in the fact that the person is from my city, from sterling universities that might well be faulted by the ostriches for being "too" political, but never for being too little. Or for that dead-in-the-water escapist standpoint, 'apolitical'. I expect certain standards of people from my city, but clearly--it seemed to me on a depressed, grey New England afternoon of cold soup and soggy french fries--in expecting Calcutta to churn out people with a certain level of cultural and political sophistication, I've been holding the city upto standards it doesn't even pretend to embody anymore. And it depressed me more than this sudden cold spell and this sudden, persistent, chilling rain that simply won't go away. I used to think, in my own emulation of the ostrich, that if I don't acknowledge the reality of Calcutta's thoughtscape, perhaps all that is solid ill melt into air and the city as I knew it, the city as I loved it, the city that took out it's conscience and gave it good long look every evening, the city that mocked its own pompousness... that city would magically come back. Clearly, I was a sentimental fool. And a man whom ironically, I would have expected to be the epitome of such a place as I imagined Calcutta to be, put me right.

"We've got our priorities wrong", he said, midway through the tea. "When I go back to Calcutta I shudder these days..."
"The traffic and pollution and lack of public loos, I know", I was going to fill in while he took a sip of the ridiculous pomegranate tea, but he beat me to it.
"Just the poverty of goods, you know?" He tapped his teacup with the tip of his index finger. "Can yo imagine getting pomegranate tea in your local grocery shop? Can you imagine getting three kinds of lettuce, four kinds of potatoes, extra-sweet strawberries, oranges the size of my fist?"
"Well," I said with my previous friendliness, although I was quite appalled to find a development consultant classifying development priorities in terms of largely superfluous consumer choices, "I'm not sure that having potatoes in three different kinds or fruits as large as your fist really indicates anything other than access to unnecessary food technology. I mean, yellow and brown and red potatoes all taste the same to me, even the pricey little delicate ones that are supposedly good for baking. In fact, American produce seldom tastes of anything to me. Given the choice I'd take smaller, misshapen Indian produce any day. At least the cauliflowers taste of cauliflowers, and begunbhaja doesn't taste paanshe."

And I'm justified in this degradation of American supermarket produce, as can be verified by anyone whose just come/returned to the States from South Asia, or just stepped in South Asia and had a good vegetarian meal there. Just the evening before, in fact, my rainy-day dinner of bhuna khichuri and begunbhaja had clocked several notches below expectations because of blandness of local brinjals and cauliflowers, and I was smarting. However, all my friendliness acheived was the curious cocktail of patronising hostility.

"An organic supporter, eh? I thought you had more sense than that", the Irksome Idiot condescended, delicately cutting a sliver off his lamb shank (we were in a Greek place), placing it carefully on top of a large piece of lettuce, using his fork to wrap the lettuce around it and popping it in his mouth.

Irrationaly, it was his action that depressed me even more, because that is exactly how I eat my lamb shank as well (except that I put a piece of tomato or onion and a french fry inside the lettuce wrap, and dip it in the yogurt sauce before eating). Clearly, this was a man who enjoyed his food and knew how to eat, from which it follows that he has superior tastes and therefore a functional brain, from which it follows that the rubbish he was spewing are the conclusions of a brain capable of logical thought, from which it follows that the man is an idiot. And it pains me to classify a fellow gourmet as an idiot, but life is seldom easy.

I won't transcribe the hour-long conversation here, although I would dearly love to, but suffice to say that the gentleman is question, who has worked for UNDP as a consultant and suchlike, thinks the organic food movement is led by "hippe-type folks" completely detached from reality (and I'm not saying a large number of people who go organic as a 'lifestyle choice' are not somewhat vacuous, but then what movement doesn't have it's ill-informed fanatics?), that not just veggies, but seafood should be genetically engineered because it will increase productuon and thus drive down prices, and "isn't that what your great middle-class always wants?" In India, we should go private because "these third-world governments, they will never change" (apparently corruption is a third-world problem, and exists in a vaccum free of poverty, huge populations, crumbling infrastructure, suspect accountability et al), and we should 'develop' the cities more--more highways, shopping malls, better airports because "I feel ashamed when I land in Calcutta from the US or Europe or even East Asia". Not that I don't share his shudder at the state of most Indian airports, but perhaps we have other sectors that need immediate investment. As long as the airports are functional, I don't see any need to make them altars of tech-worship (and no, Calcutta, I classify smooth runways a necessity, not as a fancy addition, so get working on it). He even praised the Rajarhat building projects, all but calling me a fool when I pointed out that some studies show those buildings have led to the disruption of the water tables and the drainage system in the city, leading to much more severe monsoon flooding over the last few years.

But what really got my goat was this insistance that 'we' have it all wrong, except where we've given way to the ancient World Bank model of development, those being our only saving graces. There's no redeemable quality in us whatsoever, and that the American system 'works'. There's no doubt that the American system 'works' (although I was surpised the last two financial years had made no impact on his analysis whatsoever), the destruction wrecked by the Bush era notwithstanding. But this attitude that anything government-owned is destructive, that markets are "largely" self-regulating, that introducing vast consumer choices that makes the populace spend more than they earn is the only way to have a functional economy, and that technology is the new totalitarian religion that brooks no disagreement, are so alien to my ways of thoughts (and the dominant modes back home) that I was shocked not merely at his opinions, but at how completely he had assimilated into an economic ideology that I've always believed is deeply flawed... and always believed--despite my ideological dissociation from the so-called Marxists of my state--will lead to the collapse of the very structures (liberty! equality! lowest prices!) that it pretends to uphold.

If anyone truly answered President Truman's address from the sixties about 'modernising' the rest of the wretched world, it has been the erstwhile third-world elite, and more's the pity. Perhaps, had our lad taken the trouble to know this country beyond it's centrist and right-wing financial politics, he would have discovered the truth of Mencken's words: "doing good has come to be, like patriotism, a favorite device of persons with anything to sell."