(Written in July 2006 after the Mumbai Floods)

Singing in the rain

A strange title for what has obviously been a traumatic couple of days in the city of Mumbai.  Its possible – its just possible that the city might start to sing  a few new tunes after the events of the flooding over the last three days.

As a city we have always prided ourselves on our collective resilience.  Through governments, bomb blasts, riots, rains, stock market booms, creation of various flyovers, slum demolition, there’s been an essential joie de vivre about this city – a flavor which had people addicted.

That resilience is still intact.  All through the incredibly long, amazingly frustrating commute back that was Tuesday, people adapted with amazing speed to a disaster that they couldn’t really fathom.  The central business district had only received a tenth of the downpour that the suburbs had received, and therefore when the first wave of panicky phone calls started to pour in from concerned families and friends the initial reaction was “don’t worry – will leave early and will keep you posted”.  Over the next few hours as colleagues left early and returned from flooded train stations or managed to get word back from frozen traffic jams which were kilometers long, the advice was straightforward “Stay put”.  Those pioneers could have had no idea how valuable that single piece of advice could possibly be. By 9 pm it was clear that whatever was happening was unprecedented.  As one of those who was stuck in one of the interminably long traffic jams – the key fact which hit was the fact that there was no official word.  No reaction from the government – all through Tuesday evening as we waited it out inside the cars, watching sheets of rain lash us and  water swirling around  the roads, the radio channels only kept playing inanely cheerful  “singing in the rain”  songs – in Hindi and English. The few channels who still had newscasters kept providing disjointed updates of traffic jams – and their falsely cheerful voices were beginning to grate on us.  The other thing which came through clearly was the difference in technology of the mobile networks.  Only two of the four network providers were working and that patchily.  The other two promptly collapsed.

Most of us stayed over in cars or went to the nearest shelter we could find – churches, schools or  houses of people known to us.  Woke up on Wednesday morning at 5:30 am and the sky was still eerily overcast – the rain had let up.  Still no power in the surrounding buildings and no information – we didn’t know the scale of what had hit.  For those who were in their cars – nothing had changed overnight – there was still a long frozen line of cars and buses with people dozing inside.  The waters had started to recede somewhat and it was evident that the only way to get home was to walk. Only it wasn’t just walking.  It was wading and in some places it was swimming.

In every case it was the efforts of the local people around which pulled people through.  Clearly the force of whatever nature had unleashed on us could only be met by the force of human nature – since nothing was going to be forthcoming from the powers that be.  That resilience that I mentioned before? – this was the point of time when it was the most apparent.  People from surrounding neighborhoods came out to offer food and water to complete strangers who were by now reduced to walking automatons.

There are many tales to tell – and many that will emerge as time goes by.  Over the last three days though while I have seen the resilience that is expected from Mumbaikers I have also seen an increasing level of anger and worse – resigned apathy.   Its difficult not to feel angry when you reach home after 16 hours on the road and switch on the TV (being one of the lucky ones to have power),  only to watch on one news channel – politicians blame the weather bureau for not providing a warning, while on the next news channel – a grave looking official of the weather bureau says that its physically not possible to predict these incidents till about 3 hours before they start and that this had been done and handed over to disaster management cell.  However the “prediction” was for “heavy to exceptionally heavy” rains – which is not really the language you use when you want to signify oncoming disaster.  Watching both the interviews it was pretty clear that that it was a case of “pass the parcel”.

Later that evening with a group of friends who had gathered – for comfort, conversation and normalcy – and to get away from the prolonged exposure to disaster which was now flooding us via the TV, the radio, the internet and the mobile phones – the feelings of anger became more apparent.  People from all walks of life  have felt let down by the lack of a plan – by the lack of central direction among the few who were trying to manage the disaster – and by the lack of timely information. 

The fact of the case is that this city survived not because the official mechanism swung into action and was seen to be helping; but because citizens everywhere took the lead in doing whatever little they could.  And for a disaster of this scale – that is precious little.  Comparisons to the London bombings of 7/7 were immediate –it was evident there that there was a plan. 

As one person said – “Mumbai survives on hope and prayer” – how else can you explain the fact – that civic officials openly stated on TV that whatever rescues they could make were because the waters receded when the ocean tide changed. Its clear now that Mumbai cannot hope to come anywhere close to aiming to be a true Megapolis.  You cannot have a city this size make do on a hope and a prayer.  For someone whos always been an optimist – I cannot – in all conscience continue to hope that things will change for the better. 

And then there was the great divide.  The southern most tip of the city (also the most affluent) received about a tenth of the deluge that soaked into the north. So the residents of those suburbs can’t begin to fathom what the fuss was all about.  For those who stayed in the northern suburbs – it seems to have been the equation from hell: because the water invaded from inland and not from the sea – the further away from the sea you were – the more you were impacted.  Since most people work in the south and stay in the northern suburbs, this also means that the longer your commute back, the worse things got as you walked on. Can you begin to imagine the fear and angst that must have been building up in these people as – the closer they got home the worse things seemed to get? 

The impact of all this?  For once I hope the famed Mumbai resilience does not reassert itself too soon – I hope that we all don’t forget this and go back “business as usual” – I hope we don’t start to feel good about how quickly we picked up the pieces and went on.  If we do that – this will be another of those incidents which fades away from public memory and which does not contribute to the collective learning at all. 

“Its clear that the city cannot continue like this.  This time – it was too close – it could have been me” – this is the feeling among the collective consciousness today.  And this is true irrespective of the socio economic segment to which you belong.  

In the past the city was seen as being the mechanism to access a better quality of life for many.  “Yes, its noisy, polluted and dusty” went the popular refrain – “but you cant beat it in terms of the opportunity that it provides”.

But  in the last decade,  people have seen other cities – seen other opportunities.  And now, incidents like this will ensure that this city will continue to export its best people to other countries, and more and more,  the people who stay back will start to question that decision.  I know I do.

Why India won’t adopt the DRS anytime soon.

Much has been written about India’s unwillingness to adopt the DRS (Decision Review System).  From an analogy perspective, what’s playing out is very similar to getting any large entity to adopt a new and potentially disruptive technology.  

Large entities adopt game-changers (whether concepts, business models or technology) once the idea is mature, there is a clear benefit to adoption and after there is market precedent.

For example – the one game-changer which India has adopted has been T20 cricket in the form of the IPL. But while considered to be “game changing” – the fact is that T20 was pioneered and played domestically in the UK since 2003 and internationally since 2005. The BCCI didn’t “adopt” T 20’s until after the ICL (the Indian Cricket League), in 2007.

There was a lot of political noise around the ICL which masked the fact that the audience turned up, watched and enjoyed. More importantly, the BCCI watched its definition of “the Indian cricket fan” changing – children, senior citizens and women were present to watch the matches.

So, the IPL had its pilot run in the ICL and it created the impetus to adopt, while being safely buffered from any downside of being an early adopter.

Another reason why a “market leader” will adopt new technology is if it has a clear “functionality”  advantage. The biggest problem with DRS is that, it doesn’t tick this box unequivocally. As a game, cricket has lived with human error in umpiring. DRS introduces technology but does not eliminate error – it only reduces the incidence of errors from 8% to 3%.  When technology replaces human effort, the assumption is that it will be error-proof, this assumption is invalid in the case of the DRS.

The final dimension has been about how the ‘process of adoption’ has been managed.  The fact is, that India had a lot to gain from adopting DRS – because of ‘Sydneygate 2008’. Harbhajan and Symonds aside, DRS could have ensured that the two tired, stressed umpires in that game, were not pressured into the kind of ‘howlers’ that came to pass.

DRS is not breakthrough. It is incremental. India has, along with other countries, adopted incremental technology in the past – whether it’s the third umpire or using stump microphones / camera’s.

Unfortunately,   the process of adoption has degenerated into a “us v.s them” or “BCCI v.s. the ROW” (Rest of the World) tug-of-war. Because of this, the decision of whether to adopt or not has become personal. And anyone who has dealt with large entities will know – when the leader has a personal stance on an issue – the system will filter out any objective data point which does not bolster the “party-line”. 

So when will India adopt DRS? -  One or both of two developments will have to come to pass:- Either the composition of the current leadership team at the BCCI changes, or, the technology stabilizes to the point where it completely eliminates human error. The decision to adopt then ‘degenerates’ to common sense.

The "Flavor" of Women's cricket

Star cricket’s interesting ad campaign and a certain sense of gender-based guilt has got me watching the Women’s world cup of Cricket. I’m, what’s politely called, “a rabid cricket fan” – which means I will watch any match, anytime, anywhere.

So. Back to the cricket.  First let me just say that there is something about watching tall, lanky, lithe women, with flowing hair held back by headbands, display aggression – makes for compelling viewing.  Helps you understand the appeal of the Amazons! (in several ways…. J)

There’s not enough power.  If you’ve been weaned on a steady diet of the male version of the game you do miss that. Strikes don’t go as far, the ball is not attacked as much and throws from the deep don’t make it back as quickly. That throws your viewing judgment off – hits don’t go to the boundary – even on the Brabourne pitch which has a decently fast outfield – and throws come back slower – so they run more runs than you expect. You’re heart pumps and you are busy screaming at them to “not run on the throw” – only to realize that of course they can.

Loved Mark Butcher's pitch report – when he said  - “The girls play as intensely but are a lot lighter – so as you can see, the pitch is in beautiful shape, even though we had a game yesterday!”

The shapes are more interesting. Not as muscle-bound. More grace. Men – if you will excuse my bluntness – all look the same! So once the helmets on – there’s not much to see.  With the women – this is not the case. They remind me of the shape of the athletes in the eighties who used to play – before the gym and the bullk and the protein shakes all became mandatory.

It’s a quieter, purer game. No commercials so you can see the on-field body-language, hear the comments and chatter between overs.  That’s something I’ve always enjoyed about telecasts from other countries – because there isn’t as much velocity of commercial noise as with Indian broadcasts – you can really hear the sounds of the game.

There’s  a lot more camaraderie. Every single batsman who is dismissed has something to say to the incoming batsman and exchange a gentle glove bump. Never seen the men do that! They are usually too busy mouthing off at themselves, or shaking their head at perceived umpiring slights, to focus on the game.

Our commentators struggle with nomenclature. I don’t understand why they insist on using the word batswoman – that’s like saying “chairwoman” – an archaic term which has now been replaced by the ubiquitous “chairman” – applied to both genders.  I think language has to change to reflect context rather than gender. For example,  I’m fine being called “Sir” – where the term is applied out of respect or to the leader of the pack!

The interviews with the players are much more fun to hear. The women smile a lot more, they laugh delightedly, look a lot more relaxed, and tellingly – sound less “finished” and “prepared”.  You can just tell that the PR guys have not got at them as yet.

One final plus, they have women commentators who are professionals– and not some mis-guided attempt at eye-candy, a trap which I was sorry to see the Big Bash League fall into this year.  Wish they would keep them on in place of certain Indian commentators who’s mangled, inaccurate commentary has all of us fans blushing from here to kingdom come.  Can the best “man” please take over here?

To use a food analogy, the overall experience is like a sorbet – light, airy and refreshing.  Love it.  Will take it over any commercial brand of ice-cream or the Indian Kulfi – anyday!

Two shades of Grey - From "Luv Shuv te Chiken Khuraana" to  "Skyfall"

Interesting development in the last few days.  Two completely different movies with one common theme.  Shades of Grey. (No – not fifty – just two!)

Some facts first. Luv Shuv te Chiken Khuraana - small budget "multiplex"  movie - completely unknown ensemble cast (except for Kunaal Kapoor - he of the Jesus Christ look and the "Rang de Basanti" fame).  The story is straightforward - young punjabi lad steals money and runs away to London to seek fame and fortune. Runs up debts, is on the run from ‘enforcers’ in the mafia, and returns home to ‘find’ the money.  In the process he finds redemption and roots. And stays back to run a dhaaba, and build a life with his childhood sweetheart.  Where does Chicken Khuraana come in you ask? Ah - well – that’s the name of a recipe - created by his grandfather - with the secret ingredient being marijuana - for that lip-smacking, sensory memory which few in the community can forget.  So the plot line is that the family business and wealth has been created by doping the community and personal redemption is achieved by continuing the family business.

Loved the movie.  But I saw it with family and they didn't get it. What was interesting was not that they hated it – but they just didn't get it. There was discomfort as well - having the principal protagonist slyly plot his way to sell the family property and find his "raison d'etre" by accident – too many shades of grey there.  Then there’s the female lead – someone who is engaged to the hero’s brother but is not conflicted about sending “I am available” signals to her brother-in-law-to-be.  Its a realistic portrayal – you can see her going through with the marriage in case her signals are not reciprocated. Pragmatic? Yes. Grey? Very.

The level of discomfort with “shades of grey” characterization struck me as interesting. Its difficult to see a hero as a flawed human being, and its disturbing to know that if you were to meet him / her – you would like him.  What does that say of you?

And so -  on to Skyfall.  The entire team from the office went and watched it and the universal opinion seemed to be “no gizmos, no gadgets, no gals – what nonsense” – except of course after a couple of beers the language was a lot more – ‘flowery’.

When I went and watched it – by myself –  I loved it.  I like this “avatar” of Bond – he’s a thinking man, with a brain and a heart and he gets the job done.  He’s as cold as ever – but its not the ruthless, “I am an emotional zombie” cold which was the hallmark of the Bonds of yore – instead it’s a kind of flash frozen heat. Its controlled and all the more potent for it.

And yes, that is incompatible with indiscriminate sex – anybody with a brain won’t sleep around because when you have the power of discrimination it precludes promiscuity (It’s the difference between a gourmet and a glutton!).   As for the lack of gizmos - the movie makes the point well - when your world gets to be as technologically interconnected as we now are - individualized gadgets look redundant.  The whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

What you get is a thinking man’s movie – with understated humor, with the “in your face” action substituted with undertones of menace.  Because the movie gets into the heads of its principal characters  – be it Bond, M or the villain, it is grey. Those shades of grey make for discomfort for an audience which wants simplicity and escapism.

The most ironic thing is that Skyfall is actually about simplicity – about “going home to make your last stand” and the need for human and humane intelligence in a technologically interconnected world, which as M puts it “is not more transparent – its more opaque – because you don’t know who the enemy is anymore”.

As an audience we’ve been fed with computer generated animation and breath-taking special effects. But none of them have been real or very “doable”.  You only have to seen one “The Making of …” program to realize that.  If you watch the actors rigged up in their safety harnesses, hamming their reaction shots for the camera, against the backdrop of blank blue - it kills the enjoyment of the movie.

 I am told that the stunts in Skyfall are real - they were done by real human beings and not CGI'd (Computer Graphics Invented).

So, when we are presented with a combination of "real" action and those shades of grey wrapped up in simplicity – we - as an audience -  don’t seem to find it engaging enough.

Interesting.

Mad Mark

There was a film in the late 1970’s –Mad Max – it was Mel Gibson’s first claim to fame. Set in the future – with crazy motorcycle action – it also opened up Hollywood to films from Ozland.

The film came to mind because Kumar and I found India’s answer to Mad Max.

Tucked away in the sleepy foothills of Mudumalai is a place called Wild Haven. Its an innocuous looking dirt road turnoff as you drive up from Mudumalai to Ooty (by the short-cut road – which is 36 hair pin bends and a quick 20 mt drive up the mountain.. but that’s another story).

So. Back to Mad Mark. Wild Haven is famous because it’s a place where wild elephants wander into your garden to be fed with jackfruit and pumpkins.  The owner is an eccentric alchoholic –his name’s Mark and he looks like a cross between a satyr and a faun. Hes all of five and a half feet, dark, with a thin, wasted frame, bloodshot eyes, a thatch of salt and pepper hair. He speaks or rather spouts four-letterease – (a dialect of  hinglish where every fourth word is a four letter word).  He owns about 2000 acres so doesn’t have the pressure of earning a living – but as is the case with great wealth – it has only succeeded in embittering him from his family – and hes quick to curse his sister to perfect strangers.

 Mark has three elephants – Socrates, Ronaldo and Elvin - all male, tuskers, lone animals. Wonder if they are also a reflection of him.  At any rate these animals wander around his bungalow and when hungry, which is always, make their desires known by overturning the odd jeep, or breaking the odd window or roof. Whereupon Mark will throw them some jackfruit. Since it’s the breeding season, all three of the elephants are in heat – so they often have 5 legs not the standard four.  In case you didn’t know - the breeding season makes male elephants extremely aggressive.

Mad max – the movie was all about the quintessential bluff – and that’s the connect with Mad Mark. The elephants are aggressive and not above reaching out a trunk to feel your clothes to see what you have for them. When they get to close for comfort – Mark – all 47 kgs of him – will brandish a thin bamboo and threaten them with “kucchi” – that’s street tamil for “thorny stick”.   Each of these encounters ends the same way, the drunk stands on a staircase and stares down a 2 ton elephant – which will turn broody, shake its head a couple of times and then back away.

We spent two hours there – enclosed are a couple of photos – but they don’t do justice. (The center photo has Mark silhoutted against Ronaldo)

The abiding mental image I have is when Socrates went for our jeep and Mark charged at him – and it’s the first time, I have seen a 2 ton animal cringe, fold into itself and shy away from one thin, bamboo wielding maniac. I’ve seen lanky teenagers with the same body language after being yelled at by their fathers. The elephant side-walked away from Mark and (I swear) had a sulky look on its face as it moved away to a corner of the property.  It didn’t return for the rest of our visit.

My take? Besides the fact that Marks a maniac – fundamentally he’s messing with the man-nature balance.  We saw several wild, lone,  tuskers during our stay in the forest – but none of them were as aggressive as Socrates or Ronaldo and I am told that a steady diet of jackfruit can intoxicate an elephant (Yes – that’s all thats needed here – add alcohol to raging hormones!). 

 There will come a time when Mark will overstep or the elephant will actually call his bluff. I hope that the incident is over quickly and painlessly for all concerned.  And they can put it as an epitaph “ Here lies Mark – he walked with the elephants”

Saw this poem by Yeats today - liked the wording. Its called "An Irishman foresees his death"

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My county is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

- It fits the current state of being I guess..... "The years to come seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath, the years behind, in balance with this life - this death".

Theres a special quality to silence when there is focus. Time bends, sounds fade and there is tunnel vision.

For this alone am I willing to endure hours of painful interaction with other human beings.

For the addictive feeling that this brings.

Tennis elbow and all.