A House Divided: The Script of AP

Andhra looms large in my Weltanschauung. Notably, I lived in Hyderabad back in 2005-07, making many friends for a lifetime (in one case, hopefully longer) during my sojourn. Scores more over the years have hailed from Telugu-land. Rare among this breed, however, were those who believed possible what shall become a reality later this year (having lived through BR turning BR + JH, I was much more sanguine). Erstwhile AP shall split, and Telangana shall be State #29 of the Union, come June 2!

Much ink has been expended on the why. Of these reasons, none is cited with more vehemence or consistency than historicity. Indeed, the idea harks back to the India of sixteen mahajanapadas in the form of Assaka. Yet, through the Satavahana, Vakataka, Chalukya, Rashtrakuta, and Kakatiya periods, the borderlines remain fluid. Come the Nizams and the 1799 alliance (which gifts Rayalaseema and Coastal Andhra to the British while retaining Telangana within Hyderabad) and the map starts to take shape. Then, of course, comes the Telangana rebellion against the Nizam and the Doras, building the groundswell for Hyderabad's merger with India and culminating in Operation Polo on September 17, 1948.

Enter Potti Sreeramulu. Overcoming Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru's long-held opposition, a language-based Andhra state comes into being in October 1953—almost directly in consequence of Amarajeevi's sacrifice—comprising seven Coastal region districts along with four from Rayalaseema (and no Telangana!), with Kurnool as capital. Genie out of the bottle, demands to redraw the map of India on a linguistic-regional basis proliferate across the country, forcing Nehru to appoint a States Re-organisation Commission. This is where it turns into a veritable political thriller.

The SRC, headed by the PM's beloved Fazl Ali (and including the venerable KM Panikkar, HN Kunzru et al), recommends in 1955 the formation of separate Andhra and Hyderabad states, considering economic disparity and relative misalignment in public opinion with respect to unification. Note that this is entirely in line with Nehru's concerns around the “tint of expansionist imperialism” in the Telangana-Andhra merger, with the PM going so far as to compare it to a matrimonial alliance needing “provisions for divorce” if the partners cannot get on well. At the very least, the SRC indicates a five-to-six-year cooling period before considering Vishalandhra. In a strange u-turn, a forever-sceptical PM now overrides his own SRC, not to mention earlier JVP and Dar commissions, to deliver a unified Andhra Pradesh in 1956!

Much has been speculated about Nehru's rather uncharacteristic volte-face—whether driven by blackmail by Andhra elites, the spectre of a communist Telangana, threat of royalist-Muslim revival of Azad Hyderabad dream, or a Soviet-influenced vision of mega-states. Or, perhaps more characteristically, the idealist in him was taken in by the 'Gentlemen’s Agreement' (in the main for political power sharing with a CM/Deputy CM split, a 60:40 Cabinet composition, job protections via Mulki rules, no revenue surplus diversion, and oversight via a Regional Committee as a special legislative body). Regardless, Nehru wilted, and in so doing, virtually wrote the exact script of the subsequent movement and eventual division.

Of course, in the typical arc of history, it took a few years for the union to entirely unravel. The Agreement itself was violated almost at once: Deputy CM post frequently left vacant or abolished; job quotas bypassed; Telangana surplus diverted to fund major irrigation projects in coastal Andhra etc. The ground continued to simmer: over 350 students lost their lives in 1969's First Telangana Movement; TPS won 10 of 14 seats in 1971 only to be co-opted into the Congress ranks in true Indira style; the 1973 Jai Andhra counter-movement that led to abolition of Mulki protection; and NTR's 1985 Government Order 610 to repatriate non-local appointments etc. Much was promised, little delivered, and for an illusory period of peace, it appeared that the demand for separate Telangana had petered out.

Cut to 2000. Chandrababu Naidu was at the peak of his political prowess. Having secured a crushing victory to enter his second term in 1999 and deeply allied with the ruling NDA at the center, he was internationally celebrated as a tech-savvy "CEO" Chief Minister. The Congress, led by the feisty Y.S. Rajasekhara Reddy, was entirely unable to breach Naidu’s development-focused narrative. Against this backdrop, a certain K. Chandrashekar Rao, then Deputy Speaker of the Assembly and disgruntled at being denied a cabinet post, sensed a massive blind spot in Naidu's Vision-2020 plan: the severe agrarian distress and deep feelings of neglect in the Telangana region. He walked out of the TDP and formed the Telangana Rashtra Samithi. There has been no looking back since, and in just over a decade, the statehood demand has fructified.

Naturally, as clear catalysts, KCR-TRS are being feted for their contribution toward the realization of the Telangana dream. What is less obvious, and arguably more pivotal, has been the Congress's strategic role. India's GOP may or may not have orchestrated his exit from the TDP, but they intentionally elevated KCR to legitimacy, forming an alliance in 2004, and including a promise for the reorganisation of states in their common manifesto. With this, they fractured TDP’s Telangana vote bank, sending Naidu into political wilderness for the last decade. What's more, when in power, the Congress carefully sustained the Telangana issue on a slow burner to keep the TDP perpetually at loggerheads internally, utilizing this friction to encourage a steady stream of desertions that have severely hollowed out Naidu’s regional leadership. For now, at least in Telangana, it appears bye-bye TDP.

Where does that leave the Congress? The bifurcation has obviously been inspired by massive anti-incumbency both nationally and regionally. Fact is that much of their woes are the outcome of a sense of entitlement and being too smart for their own good. This move appears no different. Thus, in the Congress high command's calculation, the division finishes Naidu off forever, checkmates a rising Jagan Mohan Reddy, and hopefully gains KCR as a long-term ally (for an eventual merger). I would be surprised by either outcome. Naidu will now double down on residual Andhra, and it is likely to be a two-way fight between him and Jagan for the foreseeable future. And KCR is unlikely to share power when he can reign absolutely. Eventually, the plan backfires on the Congress itself.

In summary, yes, one must justifiably expect celebrations galore in Telangana and KCR-mahal come June 2. And yet again, the fortunes of the country and its states have been held hostage to the Congress's partisan machinations and short-termist outlook. Chacha Nehru then, Sonia Gandhi now. Here's to hoping that this script changes nationally soon...

Raja Beta Banega Neta!

No, this is not a rant against dynastic politics. Only an ostrich, or your average Congressi blessed with archetypal thick skin, would have missed its disastrous limitations. The fact is that present-day India pretty much makes the case for the misfortunes that result when power is thrust into the hands of those whose credentials begin and end with parentage. Thankfully, although General Elections are a year away, the writing seems to be on the wall for sundry dynasts and their brazen sense of entitlement.

My pitch today is almost the opposite. For our polity to step up, more of our bright young things ought to be encouraged to don the political mantle. This, however, is a long walk from current reality. Quiz any Indian schoolgoing child about career ambitions, and it is difficult to transcend the familiar doctor-engineer-civil servant territory. Yes, an MBA has gained some coinage as a livelihood option in the last decade or so; and there will be the occasional interest in bijness (often running in the family); but you can bet the barn against finding anything more than the odd aspirant for public life.

Yet, at many levels, politics is at the top of the pyramid. Take a country like ours, and it is easy to argue that professionals of all ilks actually have to defer to the neta class more often than any other. Apart from an undeniable power to do good, it is not as if there is no economic upside either (and that is without perforce descending, UPA style, into my-kursi-is-my-ATM moral degeneracy). Despite this, politics as a career somehow continues to be considered lowly and fit only for 'the scoundrel'.

Of course, this is in stark contrast to democracies housed in the more developed nations of the West. Politics is right up there with medicine and law as career choices for the nation's bright minds. Sure, there are jokes on the neta as much as, say, on a banker, lawyer, movie star, or any other. However, there is no sustained scorn or uniform vilification of the kind we see locally. Thus, talent does enter, and often from the unlikeliest of quarters. In the US, for instance, from a Lincoln to an Obama, politics has accorded means for the proverbial outsider to rise to the very top by dint of merit (and some timing; but such is true in all walks of life). Must we be so very different?

The most commonly profferred hypothesis for this dichotomy seems to be the vintage of those democracies. Somehow, barriers to entry are lowered as the democratic model matures over time; and (eventually) the cesspool of politics becomes less murky. However, in this respect, our record of the last few years has been rather uninspiring. One does not have to look further than the principles that were IAC, to the compromise that is Kejriwal, in order to understand this gap.

To that extent, the AAP's apparent descent from the promise of breathtaking change may have ramifications beyond the obvious. Will similar future efforts be equally torn asunder by the fallibility of a few? Were they felled in trying to do too much too soon; and is that all we must guard against? Or must we be willing to tread the longer path by galvanising from within, centred around the two national parties? With the Congress seemingly intent on self-destruction, at least part of the answer is clear. The time is now.

Karnataka 2013: What Next?

It may not have made a monumental difference to the result, but I did not enjoy being forced to watch the recent state elections in Karnataka entirely from the sidelines. I had little choice though. Our move to India's IT capital was far too recent for us to have a vote, and I got a taste of what it feels like to be among the disenfranchised.

As it turned out, the contest was even more one-sided than expected. The incumbent BJP dispensation, battling misgovernance and corruption charges as much as a widely perceived disconnect with the electorate, was always facing an uphill task. Perhaps it could have weathered the storm better; a three-way split in its vote left it with no chance. A beleaguered Congress, stung nationally by a second summer of scandal (and an intervening winter of discontent), had some reason to cheer with a clear mandate in the state.

I don't know if many in the BJP were truly surprised by the result. Sure, India's principal opposition party would have been happier had it not been pipped to #2 by an HDK-led JD-S. Equally, they rightly worry about the ground ceded, not only to a resurgent Congress but even to the JD-S, in the usually more discerning urban vote. Yet, the saffron dream had gone sour in their fabled 'Gateway to the South' a lot earlier. Naturally, their spokespersons tried their feisty best to minimise airtime on Karnataka results, and focus debate in national media on the scam-battered Centre. (That a bumbling UPA-2 continues to provide grist to these windmills has more to it than meets the eye, perhaps; but that is another story.)

Does the Congress have enough to rejoice in its Vidhan Soudha victory? I would call it a mixed bag. Faced with a possible rout in Andhra and expected reverses in TN, the UPA is desperately looking at states to make up its losses. As things stand, it comes up woefully short. That, incidentally is the reason behind the unashamed wooing of a Nitish in Bihar despite a 'committed' Laloo ji who remains perpetually Barkis-is-willin'. One hears of a personal subtext too in Shri Chidambaram's new-found bonhomie with the Bihar CM; a fact that the Congress High Command may be unwilling to admit publicly. At any rate, gains in Karnataka help, but must be seen in the context of its relatively small 28-MP size in Lok Sabha arithmetic.

How does that leave the BJP (in itself a complicated call; it seems too much to prognosticate on the NDA overall) in the 2014 battle stakes? It is clear that they have their work cut out. For starters, this fixation with prime ministerial ambition is almost reminiscent of the erstwhile Janata Party — counting chickens long before the electoral eggs have hatched.

At one level, the BJP's predicament is understandable. It is difficult to see the party cross the 200 mark minus Narendra Modi at the helm (so the cadre believes). Truly, no figure polarises the debate in India today more than he. That so few folks in our polity tread the middle ground when it comes to NaMo must count as a significant (and hilariously unintended) achievement of post-2002 Congress strategy. Of course, a wide section of the media sympathetic either directly to it or to the 'secular' cause, has willingly played ball. The last word on this remains to be said though; I am sure this will occupy centre-stage over the next few months.

Coming back to Karnataka, it is do-or-die for the new regime to consolidate the vote ahead of LS elections next year. The fact is that 2014 remains a tough call. Can the UPA get its governance mechanism back together enough to perform an unlikely hat-trick? Will the BJP or the NDA get its house in order, politically and electorally, to be third time lucky? Or will an unfortunate nation be subject to a post-poll Third Front-led ragtag coalition as many pundits currently postulate? Let's keep watching.

Bihar: A New State of Mind

I have been meaning to stay a lot more connected to my hometown. Despite intentions though, physical visits have been few and far between. Thus, it was a direct call to action when the W alerted me to my expected housebound status for the next few weeks. I planned a trip in a jiffy, managing to cover Patna, Muzaffarpur, and our ancestral village — all in the space of one weekend.

Hurried as it was, the trip's mood was ponderous, and overall much upbeat. In fact, I came away with my intent to travel Patna-wards markedly stronger. This reinforcement, admittedly, is partly on emotional counts. Yet, Bihar's near-unique socioeconomic theatre too contributes to my renewed resolve.

For the record, I have long believed my beloved native state (often including Jharkhand in the bargain) to be a microcosm of India at large. Indeed, its fertile Gangetic plains or mineral-rich badlands present, firsthand, a quintessential paradox: penury amidst plenty. Of late, in Bihar, like in India, nature's bounty has fought and lost a daily battle with the grime and toil of life in poverty. Equally (and perhaps inevitably), beyond the obvious despondency and squalor, a subterranean strife constantly tested the overt social détente, the undercurrents often erupting in murderous class wars.

Talk history, and the microcosm argument is actually an understatement. Bihar's leadership — in thought or worldly terms — is sans parallel. Yet, some years ago, an otherwise discerning (non-Bihari) friend had scoffed at my assertion that Patna (Patliputra) was the capital of 'India' longer than any city but Delhi. For Doubting Thomases such as he, try googling the following to get a sense of what I say: the Buddha, Mahavir, or Guru Gonind Singh; Balmiki, Vishwamitra, Aryabhatt, Panini, Gargi, Maitreyi, Vatsyayan, Banabhatt, or Chanakya; and certainly the Guptas, Mauryas, Ashoka, or Sher Shah (the list is by no means exhaustive.)

I believe too that there was more to my aforementioned friend's mirth. The unfortunate, but undeniable, truth was that Bihar had simply lost the plot over the years. Always in the news for the wrong reasons, it was tough to associate glory or excellence with the state. Appreciate too that through the 90s and this millennium's first few years, the Indian nation was burying its Nehruvian policy overhang in favour of globalisation and the free market. As sarkari sloth made way for private enterprise, the air was rich with the promise of prosperity, not hollow socialist shibboleths. In this period, the land of Nalanda and the Lichchhavi republic — which gave India its first coinage, trade arteries, and Arthashastra — was going the other way. As if under a sorcerer's spell, Bihar turned into a family's fiefdom, discovering new heights of lawlessness, negative growth rates, and wanton polarisation of an already fractious society.

At another level, with liberalisation, cable TV came to town. Likely looking for comic appeal, the media lapped up Shri Laloo Prasad and his country bumpkin caricature. Bihar's strongman readily obliged, with bytes or antics more befitting a Bollywood comic than otherwise. Arguably, this was deliberate: playing up his rustic roots for lowest common denominator appeal. Regardless, he made a virtue of the ludicrous. With a clear development-is-anathema stance (discordant with the rest of India) and longevity in power, this perpetuated a rather sorry image of Biharis: buffoons who wouldn't know (or didn't deserve) any better.

For most of this period, I was still deeply rooted in Bihar, yet spent significant time outside the state. At its worst, I felt my compatriots had given up hope; that the pithy but patently unfair caricature had grown larger than life. Bihar had gone from being a state to becoming a state of mind.

I hoped, too, that some day, regardless of the dispensation's colour, my home state's fortunes would rest with a believer in a progressive political agenda. Bihar would then feel the difference, reward the change, and break the defeatist psyche. On this trip, driving on a new rural road as an alternative route to my village, I felt my idea's time had come (much better than merely talking of Nitish Kumar and Elections 2010; equally hoping that having reaped benefits, the NDA regime will push for more in Round 2). Its zindagi mili hai dobara!

Asleep at the Wheel

One of the most telling descriptions of the bureaucracy in the 1970s went thus: "if you can, don't move; if you must, move slowly; if pushed, move in circles; if cornered, appoint a committee!" One can say this most certainly of our economic policy. Despite years of evidence, governments in India hung on to an anachronistic Nehruvian model, mouthing hollow garibi-hatao type slogans, till being forced off our backs two decades ago. Few know this better than our venerable PM. As a key apparatchik in the erstwhile growth-sapping regime — something Congress propagandists wantonly gloss over — Dr Manmohan Singh wilfully fashioned policies that eventually had us staring down the barrel of a gun in 1991.

Should it, therefore, surprise us that, when the bottom falls off the Rupee, or GDP growth plummets to its lowest in almost a decade as it has today, the GOI is a deer caught in the headlights? Dr Singh would have us believe this is all thanks to the global economic slowdown or Eurozone woes (external locus of control; not leadership). Notably he calls out the RBI's tight-fisted monetary stance even though structural problems need a fiscal and not monetary response. Indeed, the central bank has little elbow room in the face of oil price risks or the current account gap (widest since 1980). I would argue, on the other hand, that the RBI is doing its damnedest to keep inflation in check.

In context, it is important to peel the onion (!) on our inflation problem. Food is a structural shortage story. Agricultural growth at 4-5% is simply inadequate to meet the demands of a burgeoning 1.2B population with real incomes rising 5%. Next, MNREGA pushes up rural wages (10% YOY in Jan 2010, accelerated to 14% now) to unprecedented levels as GOI continues to dole out money with low to no link to productive use. Then the government raises MSP adding further fuel to the fire. Consequent rise in rural wages soon translates to urban wage inflation — via construction and informal workers.

This cycle of food and wage inflation combining to increase input costs for goods has turned our inflation into a structural one. It can, of course, be tackled. The path lies through supply chain efficiency and productivity. These, however, need a strong policy response, not today's status-quoist bias that is happier with incremental versus exponential change. Likewise, the GOI cannot print its way out of the quagmire, continuing to push populist policies in the run up to elections in 2014. With fiscal deficit spiralling out of control, there is only so much the RBI can do. If he is half the economic genius he is touted to be, then Dr Manmohan Singh knows this. The real question is will he act — will he bell the cat?

Who's Afraid of Welfare Wolf

I have been off the air for a while. Assorted reasons drove my idle state — I can safely say that paucity of time and not a lack of noteworthy content would rank high among them. Our national mood has, in fact, stretched the arc of the pendulum in this hiatus. A cricket World Cup victory transported India to a euphoric seventh heaven even as a sustained corruption soap opera on national news tested the other extremity.

Amidst this topsy-turvy madness, a widely anticipated Union Budget went by without unduly troubling history. Two months on, I found it uncommonly difficult to recall its details last Tuesday (finding much relief in the fact that my conversation partner, usually a highly aware sample of our species, struggled similarly). The catalyst for our discussion was a BS blog that argued for a tax-stimulated Welfare State in India. To my mind, the post was most instructive — both the merit in its core logic (an established part of neoclassical economics) and the vitriolic reactions (including some regrettably personal ones) it drew.

It is not difficult to understand the clamour for lower taxes. Individuals always want to maximise take-home from gross income (economics = limited-means-unlimited-needs etc). India's historical stress on thrift imparts to this global truth an additional fervour. This intensity is likely rooted in political subjugation and consequent economic travails of the last few centuries. It may run even deeper — the relentless onslaught on our land by variously hued invaders rendering a psyche eschewing 'worldly' pursuit in favour of a productivity focus. In any case, our sociocultural abhorrence of resource waste is singular (consider a humble beverage PET bottle's multi-stage journey in an average Hindustani household to gauge our resource consciousness). Parting with hard-earned income to an ill-performing State is, thus, a tough sell.

On the other hand, if the governance deficit — GOI's 'trust factor' must be at all-time low currently, explaining the cynicism that greeted the post — were to be bridged, then taxes would likely not be branded undesirable waste. Therefore, the idea of taxes-for-welfare merits exploration beyond academic interest. Europe's State-run healthcare framework i(as different from the private sector US model), for instance, would be worthy of deeper analysis and potential emulation.

Two other reactions to the post need unpeeling. First, it is an overly simplistic position to tom-tom tiny city-state successes against the practical realities of India's size and complexity. Next, we put at risk the lessons of GFC 2008 if we continue to pretend that free markets and private initiative are a panacea to all the world's problems. The anti-government intervention refrain in the comments, therefore, was mostly an outcome of the corruption-inflation-misrule that the current Raisina Hill dispensation has come to symbolise.

It behoves us to ask whether the resources to pay for welfare can be mobilized without tax rate hikes. An obvious opportunity is coverage — going by filed returns, an abysmal 3% of Indians pay taxes (vs the US's 45%, say). This has been a tough nut to crack historically. Technology (particularly UID and bolt-ons), however, may provide a way out in the not-so-distant future. Stronger sponsorship must be built for these efforts, including better articulation of benefits and timelines. Saddling the taxpaying salaried minority with more levies ought to be the last resort in this sense (you could say that my stance is partially inspired by a month-end routine of agonizing over the payslip!).

In summary, the post provoked some interesting (even if open-ended) chains of thought. At the very least, its advocacy of a Welfare State underscored a key policy shibboleth — inclusive growth. The question is whether those at the helm think economics beyond competitive populism (commitments in the ongoing state elections, for instance); and how they win back that precious commodity called public confidence — the key to driving larger participation in nation-building. Woh subah kabhi to aayegi...

Judgement Call

Amid the controversy regarding Shri Justice KG Balakrishnan and his family's recently acquired munificence, I heard a few judicial fraternity old-timers urge him to go the extra mile in clearing the air. 'Caesar's wife should be above suspicion' was the dictum they asked to be upheld; exhorting the immediate past occupant of the exalted chair of India's Chief Justice. Messrs Iyer, Verma and Nariman, luminaries all, should know better — given their long, distinguished career records serving the law and jurisprudence. Oft-quoted as the tenet is, I appreciate and endorse it as a touchstone of propriety in high places. Yet, I found the suggestion hopelessly naive and frankly puerile.

First, the allegations: the litany of charges against Shri Balakrishnan is significant as it is shameful. Coincident with his tenure as CJI, the fortunes of multiple members of his family (son-in-law, brother, nephew, and so on) are reported to have skyrocketed. The asset accumulation is rumoured to be in tens of crores — houses, farms, jewellery shops, hotels, and other business interests — presumably by peddling favour in judicial verdicts and administrative decisions. He also stands accused of playing godfather at large, shielding A Raja, the 2G-scam kingpin and Middle India’s reigning bête noire, from prosecution for attempting to influence a Madras HC judge in a corruption case against one of his cohorts. It’s complicated; or is it?

Next, consider the nation’s mood. Our collective consciousness is beset with an unending saga of corruption. We may not end up as a Tunisia or Egypt, but despair over this disgraceful dance of adharma is palpable. In this widespread morass, our higher judiciary’s stellar activist tilt has been the aam aadmi’s last refuge for over two decades. Having presided over this venerated arm of our government (for one of its longest recent tenures), much better could have been expected from Mr Balakrishnan. Instead, one is presented with the ungainly sight of his portly form scurrying away with an inane smile, TV journos in pursuit. It is not quite the picture of one with ‘nothing to hide’. It is also farthest from what is desired, in our current national context or the dignity of his former office.

Unfortunately, there’s more. Yesterday Mr Balakrishnan said no to sharing information on his or his family’s assets. This is piquant. At a time when his supposedly illicit gains weren’t yet the talk of the town, he had led the higher judiciary’s resistance to publicly declaring its assets. I had been surprised — the wise men in black robes had uncannily called right India's public mood on every issue since the late 80s. Yet, under his leadership they inexplicably refused to play ball, when they could have easily continued at the vanguard of probity. Given the monolithic, opaque nature of its functioning, it is difficult to surmise to what extent the erstwhile captain moulded the team’s stance. They were, in any case, made to yield, but not before an unseemly fraternal spat; thereby ceding the high moral ground in a manner unprecedented in recent memory. The ex-CJI’s latest denial to an RTI query casts a distinctly macabre slant to those developments.

Noteworthy too is the purported reason for the nay-saying stance: the information sought was not of public value! If talk of malfeasant millions flying thick and fast, the erstwhile CJI-ship, or incumbency as NHRC head doesn't qualify as community interest, it stretches one’s imagination to think what truly does. His may be a nuanced legal view, a disdain for the spirit of the law, or simply a case of PR hara-kiri; but if unchanged, the aforementioned eminent jurists’ conscience call has no hope. Unless, Your Honour...

PS: No surprises in the redoubtable Law Minister’s hasty endorsement under an equally specious argument (no questioning folks in sensitive positions, or words to that effect). The wily Karnataka politician had readily absolved Shri Balakrishnan in the Raja tangle too. Lesson then: swear by the forwarding letter, ignore the attached actual. And now: (apropos the Rajas, Kalmadis, and Chavans) no uncomfortable enquiries please, we’re Indian. Let’s just send them flowers!

The Cycle Diaries: Bihar 2010

My apology to Che-lovers for the title, but the pull of the wheel has been strong in this space these last few days, and it seems opportune to talk 'cycle politics' in my beloved home state. For the politically disinclined or oracularly averse — you would be hard put to find a self-respecting Bihari willing to answer to either description — the crucial eastern state is mid-way through polls to elect a new Vidhan Sabha. Truth be told, in the fractious cauldron of Bihar's polity where caste often looms larger than life, the election appears a tantalisingly close call (at the very least, it may hardly prove the cakewalk for the ruling NDA that the national media would have us believe). The battle is, equally, critical to fortunes of at least two regional satraps with thinly-veiled national ambitions. For the country's largest party too, securing a firm foothold in Bihar is crucial to its long-term consolidation plans.

Naturally, with such high stakes, it is a no-holds-barred fight, with participants of every persuasion eager to seize upon and amplify the minutest of issues. One idea that has thus assumed centrestage is the Mukhyamantri Balika Cycle Yojana. The scheme is simple enough: it entitles girls who pass Class VIII in government schools to state support in the form of a free bicycle, or INR 2000 to purchase one. (It should come as no surprise that although the Nitish Kumar government subsequently extended the scheme to boys, it is the promise of female empowerment implicit in its original version that has captured the public imagination in one of India's most backward states.)

On his part, Nitish has scarcely hesitated to ride this humble bicycle into the grime of electoral debate. He has extolled its virtues, from obvious aspects like education enabling gender equality to deft positioning as a philosophical lesson in striking balance. The latter in particular is a veritable coup de maître: in a single turn of the pedal, it transforms the potentially divisive edge of any female assertion arising from the scheme, and imbues it with a character of harmony and inclusion. The logic is crisp — indeed crucial in the extant male-dominated quasi-feudal milieu — but clearly there is bigger game afoot.

In the larger picture, Nitish knows that the issue of governance played more than its part in pitchforking the NDA into power in 2005 (and reinforced in 2009) when his predecessor's much-vaunted contempt for vikas as a demotic issue turned electoral turtle. (Traverse back in history and one could make an equally good case via Rajiv's freshman promise and appeal to change in the massive post-Indira assassination mandate.) In short, development may not be an absolute winning ticket but it can serve as a formidable consolidator in electoral sweepstakes. The wily politician in the Bihar CM reckons that he needs every card on the table to retain his edge in its complex electoral arithmetic. (This same appease-all desperation also motivates his covert courting of JD-U neo-converts and the occasional bahubali, moves that are denounced as capitulation by pro-vikas votaries in the intelligentsia.)

Equally, the pragmatic Nitish recognizes he is no Narendra Modi, lacking the BJP strongman's masterly leveraging of the governance plank, or indeed his enviable track record. Even Modi's biggest detractors (and Bihar's CM does occasionally assume that garb) cannot deny the single-minded determination that Chhote Sardar brings to Gujarat's development agenda, or his patience-is-no-virtue bias for action. Regrettably, Bihar under NDA rule has largely struggled to shrug off the negative-growth RJD legacy and benefitted partially from its shrunk-denominator effect. In a nutshell, it is no one's case that no good has come about in Bihar post-2005, but its pace has been painfully slow and corruption continues to sadly fester. The incumbent CM, therefore, has little choice but to root for the symbolism in his bicycle scheme.

The compulsions for Nitish's main challenger are, of course, entirely different. Shri Laloo Yadav is looking for a way out of the political Recycle Bin, hoping that the cycle of change prompts people to vote RJD's lantern back to power. The path is hardly rosy and the 60+ one-time kingmaker has struggled to brew a concoction to renew his spell, apart from hope in Ram Vilas Paswan's vote-transfer ability. After initial flirtations with the development plank by pointing to his record as Rail Mantri (a claim made hollow thanks to Didi's revelations) he tried one-upmanship too — promising Class IX students motorcycles if victorious (so much simpler to match 1-kg rice with 2, alas!) — but thankfully did not persist. It is, after all, one thing to turn animal fodder into millions, and quite another to conjure up finances for a mere-paas-motorcycle scheme (petrol bhi hai?). And then there is the minor happenstance of students not being of driving age, a fact that Nitish was quick to drive home, calling his bête noire's schemes as "always meant to land you in jail"!

Unsurprisingly, we have had some RJD leaders attempt murder-by-whispers too, with talk of bicycles being used to finance eloping couples, inter-caste marriages, and what-not. Such slander campaigns sit lightly, however, and most Biharis are too politically adept to miss the attempt to paper over Lalooji's misgovernance credentials (he once castigated Raghuvansh Prasad Singh, his most trusted lieutenant, publicly during an election rally for merely mentioning development, calling it an avoidable digression from 'the fight against communal forces'!). Hence, despite his core support base more or less intact (though there is some talk of post-Babri Muslim angst changing this at a local seat level), Lalooji has been left to ponder where the additional numbers will come from. One can never write him off too soon, but it has till now sounded like a far cry from the days of jab tak rahega samose mein aloo.

In a few days from now, we will get to know how it stacks up. Yet, irrespective of party inclination, a broader political lesson emerges — one that gives reason for hope to the Bihari in me. Holding its own amidst the high stakes and tightly strung social equations, the humble bicycle — campaign rally exhibit extraordinaire — epitomises the inevitable drive of economic progress and an inclusive agenda. Or as a much wiser man once put it, one cannot fool all the people all of the time.

The Game of The Name

It's official now. In a widely reported 'confidential' note, Cabinet Secretary KM Chandrashekhar has mandated against indiscriminate use of Indira and Rajiv Gandhi’s names for government initiatives to "prevent proliferation of such association". The directive has not come a moment too soon. By one count, over 450 schemes have been blessed with these prefixes since 1991 alone, a fact that drew frequent critique from Opposition benches. It was also the subject of a petition to the Election Commission last year, suggesting the practice was in violation of the Model Code of Conduct. That the Government has finally chosen "to be sparing and selective" is, therefore, at best a case of better late than never.

Apart from displaying a singular lack of imagination, this publicity overkill was farcically counterproductive. It is one thing to name the most prominent road in every town in the country after the venerable Mahatma, once anointed as Father of the Nation, and another to affix Nehru-Indira-Rajiv (not in that order) to every government program impinging on all walks of life. As the journalist fathering the EC petition pointed out, from child-bearing, rearing, education, employment and marriage — schemes across the citizenry's entire life-cycle were blessed! Of course, the patronage extended to national challenges too: food, drinking water, shelter, electricity, destitution, handicap — you name it and ye had it, pardon the pun. State governments and central ministries seemed to fall over one another to appropriate these prize prefixes, hoping to curry favour with Congress's First Family. It is only natural that some of these schemes exist only in name: National Water Mission, Fellowship Scheme, Gramin LPG Vitrak Yojana, Creche Scheme, Empowerment of Adolescent Girls (all Rajiv); Old Age Pension, Matritva Sahyog Yojana (ditto Indira), to name but a few.

Faced with this assault of the ubiquitous, the aam aadmi, purported mascot of our ruling dispensation, could only respond with characteristic nonchalance. Unfortunately, this resignation meant even actions bordering on the absurd went unprotested. For instance, the powers-that-be were obviously unimpressed with the globally recognised Brand IIM. What else explains the desire to add 'Rajiv Gandhi' to the moniker for the Indian Institute of Management's fledgling Shillong edition? At least the hue and cry over the MoST use of Sonia Gandhi’s visage on NH signboards had the good lady herself ask its able minister to desist. (In any case, in the Congress scheme of things, few would have dared suggest removal, for fear of inviting questions on 'loyalty' that all party men wear on their sleeves.)

Perhaps one could explain schemes of a developmental nature needing such heavy-handed government guidance. However, even spheres like sports went rarely untouched. Tournaments of note carrying Gandhi-Nehru nomenclature ranged from cricket and football, through beachball and kabaddi, down to the Kerala Boat Race! In a nation short on sporting achievement (an odd CWG notwithstanding) this was surely a frittered opportunity to set examples from within the pantheon. Against this backdrop, is the apparent concern over potential "devaluation of the national leaders" anything but eminently laughable official-speak?

Think larger picture, and this name-rename obsession remains a quaint Indian construct. Having once had 'San 1942 August Kranti Marg' as my mailing address (read it aloud if you don't find it funny; it went by Hardinge Road in popular parlance), my acquaintance with this wasteful pastime is old (we moved to MacDonnell Road a.k.a Madhav Shrihari Aney Marg next!). In fact, contemporary India has been the stage for many puerile efforts over the years. Witness agitations to cleanse Bombay, Madras and Calcutta of their colonial past (more Ban-galores are in store for sure!); a facelift for Odisha and Uttarakhand; or name surgery for thousands of roads, lanes, and bylanes, and it is easy to understand why the Great Unwashed rarely care. Almost without exception, these cosmetic changes are shrugged off with the indulgent disdain Indians typically reserve for the political ilk and their shenanigans. At any rate, even if some such interventions have been accepted, they have done little to enhance the respective denizen's self-worth or quality of life.

It is, therefore, incumbent on us to actively protest such name games beyond the issue of wastefully "associating names of national leaders". As a nation with superpower ambitions, taxpayer money and political interest are better served in actual pursuit of schemes like NREGA (pronounced Na-Re-Ga in the heartland) than its rechristening four years post-launch, apparently in tribute to his dedication to Gram Swaraj, after Mahatma Gandhi. Else we will end up with MREGA.

Damp Squib

Months ago, the draft of a new Direct Taxes Code for India had drawn much public acclaim, including in these pages. This was not without reason. For starters, the existing system was visibly knocking on the doors of obsolescence. Hence, any review intended to simplify its archaic tenets (thereby reducing repeated recourse to judicial interpretation) was hugely welcome. Next, a forward-looking document shorn of its predecessor's dotage could enable the taxman to better engage and deploy New Age tools. This promised a sea change in efficiency and effectiveness of Direct Tax administration (on counts like evasion detection, internal security etc) making it a progressive legislation worthy of a budding economic superpower billing. Last and not least, the very idea of promoting larger debate prior to finalization bespoke intellectual honesty and inclusiveness rare in our policymaking experience. A thumbs-up for this wiki approach was much in line.

However, implicit in all these arguments (in fact providing them overall credence) was the game-changing nature of actual changes proposed to the tax framework. If it were to fall prey to back-room intrigue and lobbying, as the more cynical amongst us foretold, it would be a real pity in the face of path-breaking promise. Even as these fears lurked, the revised discussion paper one heard of a few months back also sounded headed in a compromise-riddled direction. And sadly that is exactly what has finally come home to roost in the proposal formally introduced in Parliament this week.

So how has the cheer of the finest toast for Pranab-da soured into old-wine-new-bottle despair? Selfishly or otherwise, my first disappointment is in the largely superficial personal taxation changes. In fact, perusing the reams of newsprint dedicated to laud the 'extra income' (a princely INR 24,000 at the upper end) through marginally tweaked tax slabs, one wonders when our mainstream media will mature beyond cliché. (To avoid sounding like a stuck record, we steer clear of media-bashing — richly deserved as it may be. There is zero surprise in our Fourth Estate's centrist and arguably pro-Congress slant.) In any event, basic math of inflation on the cast-in-stone slab values itself beats hollow the DTC's pithy positioning as a taxpayer windfall.

Going beyond this, one must rue the lost potential of a truly simplified tax framework. With 6.5% incidence sacrificed at the altar of exemptions and political expediency, the Government had a clear shot at reducing cost and complexity. Removal of potentially distortionary criteria would have improved investment decision-making for aam aadmi and HNI alike. Equally, a move to EET could have boosted long-term savings (PF withdrawal is an example). All that has been belied. Perhaps most importantly though, the survival of the exemption regime has reduced the leeway to lower rates and punt on increased adherence, ultimately limiting the ability to fund GOI's ambitious developmental agenda.

The saving grace has been the refusal to tinker with Capital Gains Tax that would have created an artificial portfolio churn opportunity (en masse profit-booking in March, followed by resumed longs in April, a cost minus any economic value add) that has been avoided. (In lighter vein, the DTC is also the government's first assertion of having achieved its gender equality goals. So the deduction differential allowed for woman taxpayers stands withdrawn, unless merely saved for a subsequent budget to reinstate!)

Elsewhere, the other notable revision in the Bill versus its draft is the compromise on corporate taxation. It is an easy argument that GOI frittered a chance to overhaul capital allocation in our economy. The erstwhile proposal to predicate MAT on gross assets vs book profits represented a fundamental change in the much-misused play of lowering tax liability via investment-led depreciation. From being a tool to manage tax, investments could have emerged into the light, to be evaluated for true CBA. The Big Business lobby however (including relatively genuine voices in its capital-intensive cohort) ensured we are left with Photoshop-type interventions to lower tax rates through elimination of cess, surcharge etc. If these were temporary inclusions in our tax regime, as successive FMs gave us to understand, it hardly needed a large-scale DTC exercise to get rid of them. Equally, there is no surety that some other flavour suiting the incumbent political mood will not 'force' the government of the day to resurrect these ostensibly stopgap devices.

All told, this residual pot of half measures still sets the Taxman back 1% of their INR 5.8 lakh crore annual kitty, without any redeeming expectation of increased adherence. A solitary hope remains — with the suspense of end-Feb Budget jitters gone, we could leverage a long-term Tax structure come 2012. If only the redoubtable Mr Mukherjee had been inspired by the spectacular doomsday caper of the same name, the changes would be a bit more appreciable...

A Follow On Inning

For a prolonged period in the Nineties the powder keg of India's growth story provided a discernible fillip to equity values, including a booming primary market. To boot, some aggressive issue pricing meant even neophyte investors made a fair killing through a buy-IPO-sell-listing strategy. It was too good to last, and the market eventually turned a great leveler as it must. Despite this, some hangover of those glory days seems to pull the retail investor (sample the now-thankfully-dear-departed 'MF IPO' mela) even to this day.

As it turned out, my college wallet was hardly corpulent enough to afford any investible surplus in this happy period. The result was that my initial flirtations with stock-picking missed any skew or confident swagger from tenderfoot success. Yet, learning the hard way (and armed with pearls from two notable masters in Messrs Buffett and Lynch), my confidence gradually crept up enough to venture opinion on the table. And when for a few years my portfolio reflected better returns on direct equity investments vis-a-vis the Sensex (or via the Fund route), a tendency to play to the gallery won me to freely dispense stock advice!

Unfortunately, lately my acquaintance with that familiar spoilsport: Time (or more accurately, its paucity), grew by leaps and bounds. Consequently, most of my theories were tested vicariously — and though the results were not entirely discouraging, the discipline to tend consistently to my portfolio was found wanting. It is in this backdrop (and to accompanying bugle calls from a generally bullish market) that NTPC announced its mega FPO. Persisting with the axiom of my stock-picking being based on more mature considerations, this is how the issue appeared to stack up:

• NTPC easily stood out as the largest Indian power utility, with reasonable historical revenue/profit track record and operating efficiency in load/ availability factor terms
• The firm boasted a healthy topline growth with plans to ramp up capacity by ~10K MW (over a third), assuming timely execution and minimal equipment delays or risk (important also given a somewhat sub-optimal debt-equity ratio, with scope for putting more equity to use)
• Significantly it was an infrastructure major with very low liquidity pressure atypical of the long gestation in the sector; and a comfortable funding position (~INR 17.5K Cr in cash alone) that weighed on its ROE as much as providing opportunity for backward integration
• Raw material pipeline looked robust — a new 20 yr coal supply agreement with Coal India for 12 of existing 15 units, supplemented by captive coal mines and KG basin gas (in next 2 years). Possible overseas mining acquisitions would provide additional flexibility
  
• From a product mix perspective, hydro projects could be a concern but strong partnership potential in 2000 MW nuclear power JV and ventures with BHEL and Bharat Forge to manage engineering and equipment needs provided a cushion
• Potential upside also existed from sectoral deregulation, specifically unallocated power sale, short term trading (#2 player), and the 3P modernization/ life extension practice.

Yet, for the retail investor, the icing on the cake could only come from price. Indeed, it was key to whether the issue would draw more than institutional interest. The latter, some argued, would commit anyhow, a volume player being inelastic to entry point in view of the overall mood and potential. Given the value-unlocking protestations in UPA 2.0 policy (disinvestment being no more a dirty word), it was critical and expected for the floor to be suitably defined to set the right tone for the aam aadmi.

Unfortunately, by any reasonable yardstick, the pricing and the issue came up short, saved the blushes only through 'motivated' subscription from SBI, LIC and other PSU players. The drama in the FPO (and my own morbid interest) were served well by a simplified version of this script (rob Peter to pay Paul etc) but the back-room shenanigans transcended the discreet approach that the Govt and its hired guns usually adopt in such situations. In fact, despite commonly held misgivings on price, PSU entities actually bid at the high end, much in excess of the market or floor price (and that when FII interest was almost nonexistent)! Extending the line was a series of seemingly unorchestrated sound-bytes (Goebbelsian devices that would have done any crafty market manipulator proud — case in point: Reliance Power) hinting at bear cartels at work to drive price below its 'natural' 230 levels! And if any argument were left to be had, one merely had to look at the complete absence of commitment from NTPC employees. They knew!

In short, the promoter, the Govt of India, obviously needed the money — and as appears in retrospect, badly enough to brazenly flirt with the grey in a manner unprecedented. Be that as it may, it is obvious that such insidious conveyances could be a short term tactic at best. Over the course of what promises to be a long summer, FinMin mandarins would do well to truly imbibe their much-professed principles of policymaking (public sector = public ownership). Not only is the capital requirement in the current Grand PSU Sale way too high to afford being limited to incestuous bargains, but there is real fiduciary merit in spreading the family silver over a larger investor base. To boot, there may be electoral arithmetic benefit in promoting an aam aadmi (or middle class, at the very least) lilt in any future auctions (at the cost of a marginal discount).

For now though the NTPC FPO kissa does leave more questions than it did answers, such was the Government's conduct. And one thought the ignominy in a follow on was restricted to cricket.

Ode in Time of Crisis

Looking back the last few months, it is impossible to miss a humbling feeling of being amidst epochal events. Personally, last September was a heady high, a celebration of creation that rendered me well nigh unequal to the task of putting it to words! Time has flown since, each day a nouvelle discovery of wondrous joys, yet occasionally tinged with an undefinable sense of vulnerability. In my thirty-some years on the planet, this palette of emotions is sans parallel: cheer and blessing, joie de vivre, if ever!

The world, on the other hand, has been seized with circumstances of a lot less happy nature, best epitomized by episodes a year older. With the global financial system at its epicenter, an unprecedented and unrelenting series of economic upheavals have challenged life as we know it. Without getting into inordinate details of these trying times, suffice it to say that no walk of life nor section of society has been left untouched. Moreover, at least in some cases, things will never be the same again. Equally, though the worst is likely behind us, we are not fully out of the doghouse yet. It is clear that the speed, quality and sustainability of recovery depend on our generation's ability to rebuild the economic edifice. This effort must incorporate lessons from the current turmoil. Likewise, it is incumbent on us to have a sense of urgency lest the events and their aftermath fade from proverbially short public memory post recovery.

So what should constitute the bulwark of the Reset Economy? At the heart of reform must be a robust financial system that does not merely withstand future shock but proactively alerts us to impending danger. In fact, the latter, curiously and completely missing in the run-up to the Lehman collapse or the events that followed, is a critical test for any proposed structural change. Unfortunately, at least for now, our response appears to be coming up short. As a first step therefore, let me try and outline today a broad agenda, hoping to see the rest fleshed out in the New Year. (That which springs eternal in the human breast only magnifies early in a new year that also happens to be a new decade, and when penning one's return blog after an interregnum!)

Firstly, we must recognize the character of the current downturn. Like someone put it, the crisis was a lethal combination of market turmoil that turned a banking crisis and eventually led to broader economic consequences. Obviously such a debacle puts into the dock governments, central banks, regulators, banks, and lending institutions as well as corporates. It points directly to lack of coordination between these players, and piecemeal or inadequate appreciation of crisis drivers. Thus, a harmonized non-fragmented response and review is critical to future success.

Next we have the extent of the crisis and the pace of its transmission. For the malaise to spread like it did, the key ingredient was the interconnectedness of financial systems worldwide. This network is directly linked to ever-increasing Globalization of world economy; and aided by rapid advances in Information and Communications Technology. In tandem, these ensure an all-time high factor mobility, making the butterfly-in-China-shapes-NYC-weather connectedness an extant reality rather than a mere Chaos Theory shibboleth.

Does this mean we turn contrarian to the forces of Globalization? One would think not. Not only is this fungibility not easily reversible, there are clear benefits the world has derived from them. This holds true for Technology too. In fact even contemplating any (even if theoretical) reversal effort suggests a need for a lot more calibration than the opposite — a coordinated global effort at crisis-corrective actions. Hence the near-consensus currently seen in implementation of near term solutions must stay the course for the longer term root cause fixes. With the plethora of stakeholders involved (and assuming you agree with me on the low feasibility for an outside observer to grasp its nuances), governments the world over have the primary onus to navigate through the intricacies of (micro and macro) prudential and accounting policies.

The logical extension to this argument is that we cannot let our focus waver even on exit strategies for the short-medium term policy and market interventions. Harmonizing these globally may be a tough ask despite broad unanimity on its goals, namely sustaining the nascent recovery, maintaining financial stability, and protecting a global level playing field. Policymakers would do well to use risk of unintended consequences as the touchstone for their formulations rather than unidimensional desired results. For instance, instead of getting swept off the feet by the obvious, namely increasing capital standards, consequences like drop in capital availability and inefficiency in the banking system, must be factored. (Interestingly, subprime mortgage, now such a dirty word, was the output of one such political agenda, namely incentivization of housing ownership, where side-effects were not considered!)

Looking into 2010, the ball, as it does for most largescale change initiatives, is in the court of the Political kind (bureaucracy included by definition, for simplicity). The stakes are enormous, probably never bigger. Is the species up to it?

Of Temples and Twitter

Long years ago, when trials typical of Tentative Teens had not yet become an amusing memory, a family trip led me to the royal land of Rajasthan. The architectural delights were dime a dozen, almost too many, as we soaked in those majestic forts, intricate carvings, and imposing ramparts. Amidst the breathtaking grandeur and wonders of craftsmanship, a hearty hospitality stood out (apparent even in our sarkari arrangements). Truth be told, this sunny geniality was in flagrant contrast to the fractious infighting whose undercurrents were implicit in Rajputana's many a tale of valour.

Nowhere was this enigmatic paradox of gallantry and fraternal discord more manifest than the indomitable fortress of Chittorgarh. Its remarkably well-preserved battlements were monument to the doughty challenge Rajput kings had posed to numerous invaders, yet often felled by the enemy within. One artefact in particular held my imagination at once. The king's bed (literally) carried the most unflatteringly modest dimensions — one that no self-respecting modern hostel would proffer under the name. Truly, allowing for some inaccuracy of magnification intrinsic to heroic myth-building, it was difficult to imagine the imperial bulk measure up to five foot nothing! An explanation was requested; and readily provided. It turned out that the royals preferred a smaller bedstead to enable their feet, knee downwards, to stay unfettered in combat. And a duel was much in order, the slumber (likely) and awakening (surely) being caused by the potentate being tied to the couch by one of the family's over-ambitious black sheep!

If the threat within sounded surreal, its external cousin was a lot less so. Mind you, this credibility rating was not on account of any reduced lethality in its consequences. Simply put, its higher probability made it appear commonplace. The most potent of this deadly-but-discounted-as-way-of-life set of enemies through Rajput history was the advancing Mughal empire. (On a related note, the singular alacrity with which a number of their progeny, their might much depleted and xenophobia strangely muted, accepted British subjugation a few score years later, is a curious and educative quirk of history.)

Like many parts of Rajputana, one of the relics of Chittorgarh's struggles of yore was a partially ravaged Hindu temple. Now this was the early 90s, with Ayodhya-Kashi-Mathura movements a dominant influence in national politics. Thus, risking a frown of obvious disapproval from the pater, one could not help but ask our escort for some pearls in clarification of this Medieval history thread. He had many and, surprisingly for one in quasi-judicial employment, was voluble in voicing them, especially after (or since) the rest of the entourage was not in earshot. Of these reasonably insightful hypotheses, one struck a chord for its incipient logic and bearing, namely the role of the temple as a theatre for organised dissent.

In a nutshell, the rationale went thus: once the victorious left, the vanquished would ritually congregate at the temple to mourn the dead and pray for their deliverance, but equally to bemoan their own plight, seek camaraderie in numbers and ultimately the strength to fight from the Heavens. On the contrary, with the shrine pillaged, first efforts would go towards its rebuilding, setting organised resistance back a few years in funds, foot soldiers, and foundation. The symbolic value of mental domination, hence, was perhaps a mere bonus over this bondage of resources — a true Machiavellian masterstroke.

Of course, apart from realpolitik, dogmatic drivers fuelled this plunder too, Aurangzeb being the flag-bearing specimen of this ilk (and most lambasted member). Piety aside, the missionary zeal and state sponsorship he accorded to the task of temple destruction, had no parallel. This is not to suggest that his predecessors were beacons of benevolence: history (even in its recounting under as heavy-handed a Marxist influence as ours) is never that black and white. For instance, Shah Jahan built the Taj, an icon of Incredible India, but its pristine glory is indelibly soiled by the sweat of millions who paid for it in taxes (not lessened by the fact that such a price in human suffering may be embedded in similar Wonders of the World across ages).

In any event, Aurangzeb 'the Austere' remains the most reviled of all Mughal monarchs, with many counts cited of his bigotry. An Islamist bias in his policy was notable, motivating adoption of the Arabic Lunar Calendar or compilation of the Fatawa-i Alamgiri to enforce strict Sharia law across the empire. In line, he forbade consumption of alcohol, withdrew court patronage of music, indeed going so far as to order that holy verses and imagery of Caliphs in coin inscriptions be replaced lest they get tainted by kaffir touch or use in unworthy places. Scholars highlight his reimposition of jiziya in argument too. Yet, his promotion of temple demolition under a policy of prohibiting practice of 'idolatrous forms of worship' remains core to the anti-Aurangzeb charge. His reign and actions wrote the preface, if not first chapter, in the eventual transition of theological dialogue into the arena of incendiary politics. Skim through later history and it is easy to discern elements of this — razing places of worship as a tool of war, inflamed debates on primacy of schools of faith, or high-voltage drama spilling over to the streets — owing all to his grim inheritance.

To get back to the day, other forms of insurgency are no less a worry, including an Establishment going overboard in reprisal, that lends a new lease of life to many dying rebellions. However, spare a thought for temples where the will of a silent majority, retreating in face of high decibel onslaught of instigators on many a side, gets an opportunity to break free. It is these new gods and shibboleths that one must chart.

Technology today presents us with many modes. Films, for one, have helped many a generation awaken: Jessica Lal, BMW hit-and-run et al bear testimony to its pulling power. TV provides a cause célèbre and hence expanded pressure group on occasion. Yet, these media (including print) remain essentially plutocratic, overweeningly Left-leaning, and occasionally self-serving. My closing postulate is that the most promise is held in the low-cost, easy-to-use (and someday ubiquitous) mobile phone–Internet combination. True, the Twitter-enabled Iranian voice of dissent died without daunting the world, and guns beat phones hollow even in an RTI-enabled world, but peer-to-peer networks will change many lives yet, mostly silently, but sometimes in the theatre of visible discontent.

Books, Budget, and Beyond

If ever my fuddy-duddy credentials need reiteration, on offer is a blissful hour at Books & Beyond amidst Sunday frenzy today (note that dying weekends' embers usually propel me to action, a wistful last hurrah of sorts; also means Saturday = procrastination). Nestled in a corner of Spencer's in Megacity on Gurgaon's Mall Mile, this minor merchant establishment is soon to be history, to facilitate expansion of its more remunerative music-peddling sibling. Postscript to the economic progression was a clearance sale (discounts 'up to' 70%). My better half had been motivating me to this happy destination; she won on its last day.

We found a store plundered by the preceding hordes. An understandably diminished proprietorial interest had done its bit too, leaving much to be desired for the fastidious. Yet, the mess seemed incidental, fostering opportunity to savour pleasures of discovering 'novel' bargains in the mélange. We obliged, with a late appearance (tut-tut) at the crime-scene being our only remorse, emerging a dozen books richer.

The country's mood is seized of much larger catechisms as we speak. Chief of these is the General Budget, an exercise the redoubtable Pranab Mukherjee must find quaintly amusing, coming back to the North Block as he is after two and a half decades. While it may take a tome to recount the interregnum's cataclysmic upheavals, the weight of expectations is one Pranab-da may find strikingly similar. He may be loath to admit, but it is impossible to miss the Nation's collective sigh of relief at the Left's decline in Elections 2009. Indeed, it is as historic in political consequences as hysteric in the economic expectations unleashed! In some quarters, Dalal Street for one, the prospect of a government sans lal jhandi in Delhi has sent valuations into a tizzy, and one wonders if this gravity defying climb has enough roots in logic.

In a way, the ignominious performance of the Communists is uniquely humbling. The timing is notable: the world is still mourning the demise of unbridled Capitalism. While there may be post-mortem exercises aplenty (hindsight makes every chaman a Chanakya after all) the sheer absence of even a token such effort from our learned Comrades is most instructive. My sense is that more than the goonda-raj or endemic corruption, it is this arrogance and divorce from reality that has been the Left's undoing. Given their penchant for mouthing the mightiest platitudes and doing nothing by way of action, one ought not to be surprised at this mendacious stance of our holier-than-thou Communist brethren. Suffice it to say for now that if things stay unaltered, Mamata didi will have her day in Bongland come 2011.

Fact remains that, globally, there is significant public debate and focus on the New World Order. Much of the prognosis appears premature though; one could easily argue that the new realities are some way off. Hence, it would have helped to get a meaningful contribution from Left of Centre. Not to belabour the point, but Messrs Karat, Yechury & Co remain thoroughly unequal to the ask.

Be that as it may, one postulate is crucial to our collective national opinion or governmental policymaking (apropos the Budget). This is the commonly prescribed dichotomy between growth and inclusiveness; and the presumably disastrous electoral consequences of any agenda founded in economic common-sense. In our sociopolitical discourse it seems one must side with either aam aadmi or Big Business, never both. One wonders if this overly simplistic and potentially deleterious axiom will be challenged by the new dispensation on Raisina Hill. After all, notwithstanding the odd hiccup in government formation (Kalaignar's family balancing act ensured history was not forgotten too soon), there can be little doubt that, with the Left left, MMS & Co have a real opportunity to fashion a new dawn.

1991: Quo Vadis

As the decade turned into the millennium's last, the country and my life were delicately poised, with deliverance a few tantalizing months away. Personally, it was a cusp between hitherto sheltered school life and college as well as the big bad world lurking beyond; and not bereft of birth pangs. Those life-defining moments did pale into utter insignificance over the winds of change that were about to be unleashed on a somewhat ill-prepared nation!

To many, the national landscape appeared despairingly bleak, with little by way of redeeming features. The economy seemed destined for what was despicably called a 'Hindu' rate of growth. Any advantage from the baby steps of the Rajiv Years had been mostly bungled away by succeeding regimes. Indeed, some ominously portended India turning a banana republic, with IMF-World Bank painted as the New Age avatars of the East India Company (though in retrospect it can be said that doomsayers read too much into what was certainly a perilous macroeconomic situation, or its aftermath). Ascribing imperialistic motives to multilateral lending institutions was accompanied by barely-suppressed murmurs of a grand design on the part of 'foreign powers' (read the United States, with its real or perceived proximity to arch-enemy Pakistan).

This was more than mere Cold War hangover. It can be argued that years of Nehruvian Socialism had sapped away the nation's collective confidence, or its appetite for change. There also existed a school of thought (the Right) that looked further aft to trace the roots of our lack of self-belief and passivity. Swiftly gaining mindshare and acceptance, this view argued that the defeatism stemmed from events over the preceding thousand years in our history, notably the countless cross-Hindu Kush assaults on her suzerainty and economic wealth. Regardless, at this crucial juncture, the emasculating Nehru model was more than Banquo's ghost at the feast, with significant coinage in political discourse and economic intent.

There is, of course, merit in debating the point of inflection when Nehruvian dogma outlived its usefulness. However, in 1991 it was academic in the face of income inequity and regional imbalance that were sorry realities of our prevalent socioeconomic existence. At another level, the incipient Licence Raj had merely changed the skin-colour of India's ruling elite, adding endemic corruption to an atmosphere of mistrust and opacity that was a British legacy. Again, shibboleths of Demos had taken a big beating from the futile poverty-alleviation pledges of the 70s, the snuffed promise of 1984, and doomed Janata experiments. Governance seemed equally eclipsed by the scourge of terror that shifted addresses yet never got wiped out.

Hope, in short, was at a premium. Unfortunately, its purveyors were yet more so. The probable best bet had been tragically lost to a human bomb that summer. The multiple Janata Dal PMs-in-waiting were but wasted breath. Abki-baari-Atal-Behari was still waiting to happen. And the last election's messed-up messiah had taken his well-earned place in the dustbin of history, following his doomed premiership and ill-disguised social agenda, with eminently forgettable poetry and equally inadequate art.

As it turned out, aided by sympathy over Sriperumbudur, the mandate swung largely towards India's GOP. The leadership mantle fell on the unlikely shoulders of a vanprastha ashram-bound PV Narasimha Rao. The nation had her first Prime Minister from south of the Vindhyas (in fact the first not from the electorally crucial state of Uttar Pradesh). What followed thereafter — the politics of pout, a rapid rise in barter-system of social pressure groups, and ostrich-like approach to national issues; yet, surprisingly significant, even if inevitable, economic reform — is a tale for another day!

Ides of May, Democracy and Hope

My first tryst with the ballot box, albeit vicarious, is one of my sharpest preteen memories. It followed from two formidable influences. The first was not really a choice: an accident of birth in India's most politically conscious state indelibly imprints one's social DNA (it also bred a marked proclivity to opinion-dissemination as my later-day acquaintances would vouch)! Second, my skewed reading habits accentuated such leanings: newspapers had displaced ACK and assorted comics as a lunchtime accessory, helped no doubt by having a national daily in HT set up shop in my hometown (their first venture out of Delhi).

Whatever be the fount of my hyperactive appetite for things political, fact is that the 1984 election was epochal. Its preceding event had been notoriously described by a key protagonist as "when a giant tree falls, the earth below shakes". Consequent sympathy, combined with Obamaesque 'change' appeal and youthful vitality, delivered a verdict that shattered all records. It remains possibly the strongest mandate India would ever hand any of her progeny. My inclinations too were firmly in line with the national pulse.

Unfortunately for me and India, this virginal promise was belied. What followed is most tellingly described by the incomparable Nani Palkhivala in his seminal We the Nation, adapting Malcolm Muggeridge to write: "never was any generation of men intent upon the pursuit of well-being more advantageously placed to attain it, who yet, with seeming deliberation, took the opposite course - towards chaos instead of order, towards breakdown instead of stability, towards destruction and darkness instead of life, creativity and light."

This is not to argue that no good came of the Rajiv years. Indeed, economic paradigm shifts that became more pronounced in the Nineties had green shoots in his regime's policy changes. Yet, the overwhelming mood in Elections 89 was one of frittered opportunities. It did not leave me untouched. Across India, the angst spilled onto the streets, with a new Mr Clean as its face. The sense of disenchantment and nascent anti-establishment spirit rang true personally too, but my feelings towards the new hero remained ambivalent. Instead, in this backdrop, my leanings had started to swing Right.

A notable reality of electoral life in those days was the scourge of booth capturing. Variously manifest in avatars like 'scientific booth management' a la Comrades in West Bengal, seething discontent of denied Dalit voice across the hinterland, or in-your-face Bahubali muscle-flexing in what became Laloo's Bihar, this malaise made a mockery of universal suffrage. Doordarshan would later run an exposé on it, a true shot in the arm for the maturing of Indian democracy (it made Nalini Singh a household name, inspiring a generation of budding journalists more than Tehelka's scandal-mongering or early-Barkha bravado that would follow). In 1989, though, it ruled the roost. Despite it, that multiple close relatives of the then Bihar CM lost at the hustings, was an early lesson in the power of Demos for me.

As it transpired, the verdict was split, but the writing was on the wall. VP Singh, erstwhile Congressi and Sanjay acolyte, took helm in Delhi, with forces from opposite ends of the political spectrum 'supporting the government from outside'. Beset by internal quibbling from day 1, it took but a few months for the tenuous JD sarkar to crumble, although not before the Raja of Manda contributed his pernicious bit towards social re-engineering (euphemism for vote bank creation). The forces unleashed through Mandal, little understood by that misdirected messiah, would dramatically alter the country's political landscape.

The dispensation that followed VP made PM of an old Young Turk: one who had challenged Mrs G in the 70s; and whose supporters had fought a pitched battle on camera with Shri Ram Jethmalani (trying Gandhian tactics with the warrior of Ballia over JD leadership) just months ago. As a government it was meant to bide time, which it did; and not disturb historians much, which it did not. Of course there were non-trifles like our sovereign Republic needing to pledge gold to honour debt servicing commitments, but that happenstance was too big for blame to be placed on Chandra Shekhar's footnote-in-history regime.

Elections were announced in the summer of 1991, with disillusionment over the non-Congress experiment on the rise and Mandal-Mandir working overtime to cement their respective positions in our polity. With a heart pulled strongly Right, my vote had one only other potential legatee: the original Herald of Hope, wizened by the decline and fall of his 411/542 government. One felt Rajiv's battle-hardened second coming, with political instinct more sharply honed, could be more potent and present.

It may have been a great combination but, for a second time, it was not to be. An erstwhile misadventure returned to haunt RG fatally, an evening eighteen years ago to the day, while on the campaign trail in a dusty town on Chennai's outskirts. In classical sub-continent political drama mould, the conspiracy behind the assassination at Sriperumbudur has never entirely untangled, at least in the public domain, except affirming that an LTTE suicide squad was its instrument. Perhaps far greater than the facts, repressed or otherwise, was the tale of a tragically extinguished promise: avowed goals, provided means but missed opportunities in 1984; lessons learnt, force revitalized but a life cut short seven years later. Too soon.

PS: The principal architect of the May misfortune was killed by the bullet that he had lived much of his life by, just this past week. Not too soon.

The Father, Some and the Holy Spirit

My quasi-holiday mood made for a leisurely read of the newspaper today. It resulted in musings of a wide-latitude, random wandering kind. In that frame, the journalistic chatter over Elections 2009, or brouhaha over IPL venues, seemed idle or puerile. Instead, what struck me most was a comedy of vanities over an overhyped 'legacy' of our dear departed Father of the Nation.

In short, the melodramatic medley of emotions and rhetoric over an auction of some of Gandhiji's historically insignificant items, appeared soap opera more than national pride. Hero's mantle for the episode fell on the unlikely shoulders of Shri Vijay Mallya, liquor baron and prominent glitterati specimen. A few of his beer-begot millions and the Mahatma's mundane belongings got added to a collection that boasts of (among other things) racing horses, vintage cars, a plodding airline and two under-performing sports teams. In tune with the self-righteous debate on the auction's immorality and overarching desi claims to items on offer, Mallya ji too made suitable noises on the acquisition being spurred by patriotic fervour, national duty etc. In any case, given that he pays taxes and has somewhat recognized means of earning his bread (unlike some of his peers in the Upper House), we may steer clear of excessively flagellating his spending habits or extant motive.

Our effete government has no such escape hatches though. Paying lip service to the Mahatma being a practice perfected by Congressmen over decades, perhaps their aggressive posturing in days and weeks preceding the auction was only to be expected. Some of us recall a similar episode a couple of years ago when government intervention (taxpayer expense) had 'saved' Gandhiji's heritage from being irretrievably lost. Yet, going so far as to bestow agent status (post facto) on a protesting VJM was surely taking things too far. Ambika ji, who gives the extraordinary Yechury-garu a run for the money in the foot-in-the-mouth Hall of Fame, dramatically proclaimed that Mallya was a front for the government as if no less 007-esque manoeuvre was needed in a straightforward auction. Minister for Tourism and Culture, anyone?

On cue, this spurred into action the irrepressible Amar Singh who, in true Goebbelsian genius, summoned the press corps to proclaim how he would have been the saviour of the 'legacy' but for his health (a temporary indisposition, since miraculously cured). He has his hands full, in any case, in saving Gandhigiri with the inspired Samajwadi choice for the Lucknow Lok Sabha seat (that counts, amongst others, Smt Sheila Kaul, Smt Vijay Lakshmi Pandit, and a certain AB Vajpayee, as its erstwhile tenants).

Perhaps all this chicanery only epitomizes what has become of Gandhiji's legacy. After all, it "cost the nation a fortune to keep him in poverty" in his lifetime, as an otherwise loyal Sarojini Naidu pithily observed once. There is also a school of thought that traces our personality-dominated polity and marriages of convenience (in guise of highfalutin principles), to some of Bapu's own actions, most markedly in the later years of our independence struggle. Likewise, some of his ideas on education, public health, poverty alleviation etc deserve more critical scrutiny. Regardless, today is not about calling into question any of those facets, or inconsistencies in the principles by which he led his life. It is about not letting the very mention of his name elevate the object under discussion to demi-god status, beyond rational debate. Failing this, such ammunition of opprobrium and purported sacrilege shall continue to be used by opportunists to hijack our framework for partisan agenda and or personal gain.

Even beyond these fault-lines of reverence there is much to introspect in the 'crisis' and our collective national response. For instance, investigate how the items left the family's possession to wind up under the hammer. Another pertinent aspect is whether current policy restrictions on private participation in trade of historical objects are counter-productive (artificially bolstered price attracts the mercenary-minded). Further, what constitutes national heritage needs better delineation (should resources be focused on, say, preservation of national monuments, cleansing holy rivers, or greening our forests). Finally, consider if the government can freely squander taxpayer money on dubious concerns. Any or all of these have sharper linkages with culture, or impact on tourism, in a fashion that Ambika ji shall likely never understand.

Whose Trust Is It Anyway

It has been four weeks off the air. One doubts if they offer much to history books though. A strangely muted run-up to the Olympics and quintessential theatrics of a US presidential race have jostled for mindspace. Elsewhere, a roller-coaster of oil prices and gloomy predictions for world economy have been in headlines. The latter, in any case, has now passed beyond the realm of speculation to ostrich-like acceptance of fact. All told, despite intent, Echohum has been stuck at its modest debut in the last weekend of June.

Existence was humdrum at an individual level too. Attempts to break the monotony via Weekend Getaways from Delhi went nowhere. Sports was armchair variety only; and all despair. Sample this: a new tenant at Wimbledon Centre Court, another vote for Spanish conquistadorial instinct in Europe 2008 and two forgetful outings for Kimi (retirement in Canada; frittered pole at Magny Cours). Team India's last hurdle capitulation via simultaneous loss of batting form and proverbial Dhoni luck, meant that the cup of woes brimmeth over.

Possibly the closest to brush with history in the interlude, thus, was the in-the-end-not-so-close arithmetic exercise AKA 'Vote of Trust'. I would have found the cocktail heady, given typical affinity towards things political, and prurient interest in intrigue in high places. Yet, it mostly left a bad taste (and little potential for drawing-room gossip); and apprehension as to who and how governs We, the People.

Reasons for such cynicism are aplenty. Start with the actual proceedings in the Parliament. The debate (if one can call it that) around whether Shri Somnath Chatterjee should pivot to the symbol adorning his electoral ballot; or ostensible propriety in putting constitutional kursi first; was a chapter in the decline and fall of probity in public life. Indeed, one almost believed this solitary vote represented a national crisis. Multiple TV channels ran helter-skelter for a soundbyte on whence-Speaker, with opinion-makers of all ilk offering platitudes on the subject. Of course, as is wont in such cases, the bitterness persists as these words are being written, with a promise of more to come.

Frankly, apart from these 'concerns' on the Chair, one does not know what else to note from the discussions leading up to the vote. Inane opening remarks by the PM, zero-surprise rebuttal from the Leader of Opposition and a series of speakers whose earth-shattering postulates were given a total miss by the two newspapers and three news channels in my sample, save for three exceptions.

Two of these were scions of prominent political families. Both tried to cloak party affiliations running through their veins with an 'apolitical' hope-in-youth type appeal. Mainstream media sources cited above made suitable clucking noises, harking back to glory-hallelujah Rajiv Gandhi days, in talking of this duo. Nary a care for the mismatch between intention and delivery in respect of Mr Clean (post the cited mid-80s Bombay Congress plenary remarks). Hope springs eternal, perhaps?

The third spotlit character was this incorrigible Hindi heartland comic. Die-hard supporters (thankfully much shrunk now in numbers in his erstwhile fiefdom) would have us believe he is Lord Krishna reincarnate. Restraint is needed here, the post being long enough already, with much due; but suffice it to say that his caricaturing, like forementioned dynastic hopes, was completely puerile if mildly entertaining.

Of the spectacle of currency notes being held aloft, much has been said (and captured for posterity by news TV). Yet, one could not help but wonder if this was akin to a show-and-tell, an acknowledgment of our polity's passage in horse-trading sense from insinuation to omnipotence-omnipresence. It was almost Freudian to watch money being waved on screen over the heads of Hon members as if the nation needed to be reminded of the lure of lucre. Like l' affaire Somnath, this one continues to play on.

Who's Left, pardon the pun? Skipping the rest of shenanigans (Sonia ji, Mayawati ji, Amar Singh ji et al), let us talk of M/s Karat and Co. This branch of the democratic family stands out for the remarkable insularity of their world-view. They doggedly pursue the 'high moral ground' despite a pitiable track record when in power. Your average Leftist is not illiterate, yet can be brazenly illogical and (notwithstanding current cracks in citadel) the entire flock toes the same line, Gulag or no Gulag, and a Nandigram to you if you disagree!

A quick peek in history is instructive to analyze Karat-speak. During Quit India and after Independence, the Party batted for the British, going so far as to label our Freedom-at-Midnight 'fake'. Then, their stance on the 1962 War sounded suspiciously similar to comrades north of the MacMohan Line. Now, after a near-full term of power-sans-accountability, Shri Karat decides to pull the plug. Not, mind, for rising prices, economic reform or like issues aligned to their avowed shibboleths, but a Nuclear Deal. Other than perfunctory noises of the pact being anti-Muslim, our Marx-Lenin types did not even attempt reasons for their opposition. It remains equally unclear as to what they gained (or will, come election time) politically.

One wonders if there's more to this ostensible anti-Americanism too, given the extent of nuclear power adoption by China (set to overtake France as #1 in civilian energy use). Any argument of retaining military testing option too ought to come more naturally to the BJP and certainly not the Commies, with their vociferous opposition to Pokharan II or consequent nuclear armament. Perhaps some day Com Karat can enlighten us (it is beyond imagination to expect anything faintly logical from Com Yechury). Until then, it is an idle mind or thick skin that would try decipher method in the Left's madness.

All in all, a month's hiatus is best summarized by a Tuesday tale: a 'victory' that may be Pyrrhic; a 'vote' of no note; and 'confidence' alas...