Raj's Random Ramblings-2

 The serendipitous vade:

 

We’ve heard about the many inventions that have happened serendipitously. The stick-it pad of 3M, nylon and Teflon from Dupont and many more objects were not the ‘intended’ products of the lab experiments. Even the inventors of the mobile phone and internet had a very limited concept in mind and could not have foreseen the many possibilities and applications. Chance played a big role in these products becoming what they are. 

I learnt today that the popular Maddur vade too came into being accidently. As the article in The Hindu explains:  " The dish was born alongside the tracks in a moment of expediency. The story, apocryphal or not, is set sometime in the first half of the last century at the Maddur railway station. One of the “pakoda” (the exact nature of the fritter is debated) vendors on the platform leaves his frying too late one day, with the next train barely minutes away. In desperation, he hits upon an idea: rather than waste time attempting to roll the dough into balls, he flattens it between his palms, and then hurriedly fries the resulting patties. The preparation is immediately popular with curious passengers; so much that when the vendor returns the following day with the original stuff, they demand to be served the new vadé."

So, it was a case of pakoda-hurriedly-turned-into-vada. Nobody set out with the intention of designing a branded vade.

A point I disagree with in that article is where it mentions that the highway SH17 is responsible for the popularity of the vade,  and the numerous roadside hawkers. In fact, the vade acquired its fame at the Maddur railway station. I remember driving down to Mysore in the ‘80s, and in one of the first stalls that came up on the highway ( about 2-3 km away from the railway station) the board still read, “The Maddur Railway Station Vade”.  The railway station was part of the brand, along with the vade.

Ability to laugh at ourselves: 

Vijay Nagaswami, a psychiatrist and a columnist in The Hindu, writes in a piece today that “The capacity to laugh at oneself, especially when a person pokes fun at you, signals that one is emotionally secure and comfortable in one’s skin.” Humour itself is designed to provoke. “All jokes, whether spoken, written or drawn, smutty or clean, earthy or ethereal, silly or clever, have three major elements: transgression of boundaries of social propriety, a high degree of exaggeration, and topicality. It is the individual’s tolerance of boundary transgressions and the motive of the jokester – pleasure or malice - that will determine whether the funny bone is tickled or the upper lip is curled.” But the problem is that “ we often take ourselves and our beliefs too seriously. As a result our boundaries are a little too tight and even the mildest of transgressions (which is an essential part of humour) is perceived as a violation”. 

So, there is this constant clash between ‘freedom of expression’ which includes the right to joke and offend, and the sensitive person’s propensity to take offence citing ‘sentiments and beliefs’. And we keep switching roles. I may want to joke about a person’s ethnicity, but may take offence when someone stereotypes and ridicules my religion. Umbrage and outrage are out there in plenty. 

The solution lies not in getting or forcing people to stop the jokes or the blasphemy. That can never work. People simply have to learn not to get offended. If one’s belief in an idea or one’s faith is strong enough, one should not feel insecure merely because someone else jokes about it.

The TV show that ensured re-election of a President. 

Came across this story on how Boris Yeltsin had to use a TV show to ensure that his loyal base of city-dwelling voters would stay back in the city on ‘election day’ so as to be there to vote for him. The sunny weather would tempt them to leave for the country and Yeltsin hit upon this cunning idea to stop them from travelling. “ No show was more popular in Russia than the Brazilian morality soap Tropikanka, which regularly drew 25 million viewers to the state-owned network ORT. With the election looming, ORT made a surprise announcement: The show’s finale would air as a special triple episode on election day between 8 a.m. and 11 a.m.”. 

The scheme worked. “Because most villages/small towns didn’t have televisions, viewers stayed in the city, glued to their sets. When the episode ended, it was too late to trek out of town, but voters still had time to get to the polling station. Yeltsin’s soap opera strategy helped him prevail by more than 10 million votes.

I am sure that India has many stories to narrate on the many methods politicians have deployed to lure the voters to the polling booth, despite the looming presence of the officials of the Election Commission.We ought to chronicle them for posterity.

Raj's Random Ramblings-1

Mental Calculations: 

I had not heard of the Mental Calculation World Cup. One such was held in Germany last week and some of the world’s best arithmeticians competed in addition, multiplication, square roots and other categories.  Good to note that a Parashkumar Shah from India came fourth. If you would like to try out some of the mental tasks, some sample questions can be found here. Go on. Have a try. These are simple ones, like adding 10 ten-digit numbers or multiplying two, 8-digit numbers. 

I would have imagined that such an event would be more popular with Indians, and we’d be participating in larger numbers and coming out closer to the top. With our Ashtavdanis and Shakuntala Devis, we ought to. Of course, it’s one thing to show off as an individual in an exhibition event and another to emerge the best in a global event where a group of participants would compete fiercely under controlled conditions. The Japanese and the Chinese seem to revel in the latter format, though, I suspect, that they have calculating microchips secretly implanted in their brains. Like the dope test in the Olympics, we must send them for brain scans.

Punishment = Bad deed – good deed

Rajat Gupta, former Board member, Goldman Sachs is facing prosecution on charges of insider trading, and his sentence is to be decided later this month. A group of eminent people like Bill Gates, Kofi Annan, etc have written to the judge, asking for ‘fairness’ while computing the sentence. According to them, Rajat Gupta has had an excellent track record as a philanthropist and a do-gooder and this should be weighed in balance against the one-time offence of insider trading. 

This is an extraordinary argument. Can a man who indulges in a criminal act with full knowledge that he is doing something seriously wrong turn around and evoke sympathy for some good deeds done in the past? If so, practically every criminal can claim credit for some such act of kindness and plead that it be adjusted against the crime. Moreover, an act of philanthropy as a successful businessman is really no big deal. It is done all the time either to wash off one’s guilt for using dubious methods to accumulate wealth, or out of fear that when the final reckoning happens at the gates of Hell/Heaven they shouldn’t be left with nothing on the credit side. Anyway, it will be interesting to see the position the judge takes.

When the going is tough, the tough use humour

Spain, as we all know, is in dire economic straits. Austerity measures are in place and the situation is grim. So what are the Spaniards turning to at this juncture? Humour. Spaniards are increasingly turning to humor, says this piece , not only to help cope with the dark economic forecasts, but also to make sense of how this grim state of affairs has come to pass. The most trenchant critiques of the present political deadlock rely on humor to make citizens confront the roots of the current malaise. A new activist group called Gila stages street-bound “interventions,” as it calls them. In one, the group pilloried police brutality at public demonstrations by brandishing porras, pastries that resemble police batons. Other actions have mocked banks executing foreclosures. And during German chancellor Angela Merkel’s recent visit to Madrid, Gila poked fun at the obsequious reception mounted by Spanish politicians. One of Gila’s slogans is: “Our vengeance is to be happy.” 

Laughter, as the cliché goes, is the best medicine. 

The doctor’s bag. 

In a lovely piece, Dr Abraham Verghese explains how the inventory of the ‘doctor’s bag’ has undergone a change over the decades. From the trunk used by his uncle in the ‘70s, followed by the small tan suitcase in the ‘80s and later the smaller leather bag ,the contents kept varying. Dr Verghese concludes the piece by listing out the things he’d possibly like to add to his bag now- a pocket ultrasound machine, a PanOptic ophthamascope which would allow a good view of the retina and an iPad to take pictures and to pull up on a website for the benefit of students later. 

I remember the doctor who used to come home to attend to my grandmother in the ‘70s. He used to carry a briefcase- a fairly large briefcase if such a contradictory description is allowed- filled with syringes, stethoscope, BP-measuring device, assorted medicines, etc. As an injection was mandatory those days- the patient would otherwise feel that the doctor was not doing his job- and disposable syringes were yet to arrive on the scene, he would ask for steaming water for the syringes and the needles to be sterilized. While the water was being heated, he would make conversation with the entire family and occasionally with the patient, sipping his coffee. Once the injection was administered, he would go through the elaborate ritual of packing up his bag once again and slowly make his way out of the house. Why I remember the briefcase is because I had to carry it out of the car when he came in, and carry it back when he left.

Cricket match in Bangalore, circa 1850.

Captain Albert Hervey of the 40^th Regiment of Madras Infantry describes (on page 51) of his diary, “The life of a young officer” published in 1850, a Lagaan-style, cricket match played between his team consisting mainly of Indian sepoys and an all-English team of officers based in Bangalore. There’s also a description of a post-match incident when English hospitality was not accepted.. 

The good folks at Bangalore, hearing of our characters as cricketers, a challenge was sent us, and arrangements made for a match between their eleven and ourselves; but this challenge was taking us at a disadvantage, for many of our best players were away with the "left-wing;" we were, therefore, badly off, though our lads were game to the backbone, and eager for the trial. Two of the best bats from among the officers volunteered, and were taken in for want of better, to make up our eleven. Tents were pitched, the ground marked out, and the wickets placed by knowing hands, umpires selected, and scorers told off, all very proper. 

Our men were nothing daunted, although they were much out of practice; they had never before played against Europeans, and their present antagonists, they were informed, were first-rate players. All the cantonment turned out to see such a novelty, viz., that of natives of India playing at that true English game; and it was a sight worth seeing, too; the whole ground was covered with European and native soldiery from the different corps in the place, besides ladies and gentlemen spectators, for whose accommodation tents were pitched and refreshments laid out by the mess of the gallant regiment to whom we were opposed. 

The game was played very fairly and with great  spirit, though it was evident to all present that the advantage was on the side of the Europeans. The first day's result was, however, in favour of our men, notwithstanding their want of practice. That of the second day was against us, which made the match in every way a drawn one, and both parties separated highly satisfied with each other, the Europeans in great glee, and our lads so excited that they declared, had the "left-wing" been present, there would have been no difficulty in giving the "soger logue," (the soldier-people,) a thorough good drubbing. We were to have played the dragoons, but we left Bangalore before a match could be got up. 

It was highly amusing to mark the behaviour of our gallant countrymen towards their darker comrades on this occasion. Not knowing the customs of the natives, the men had prepared a kind of collation with plenty of drink, to be partaken of by the sepoys as well as themselves. The soldiers came up to our men as soon as the game was over, and, slapping them on the back, one of them said:— 

"Come along, boys, and take a bit of something to eat and a glass of beer!" 

"No, sar! no can eat, no drink! Salam, sar, no can do that;" replied a havildar of ours. 

"Arrah, honey!" exclaimed an Irish grenadier, "we'll take no excuse; and by the piper that played before Moses, ye shall have a raal drop of the cratur, too! come along!"

"No, sar! I Hindoo mans! I neber drink! I lose caste 'spose I take the rack; that no good for me!" 

"Well, thin, lave the drink! Come in and take something to eat; do that now, there's a darling, Jack Sapay that ye are!" 

No, sar! salam, sar! Main Mussulman hoon: nahin ka. sukta ! no, sar!" 

"Is it ka sukta do you say? Well, then I don't know what that manes, its gibberish to me! Will ye take a cheroot, thin?" 

"Master sodger give cheroot, I take and make smoke; but no can eat, no can drink!" 

"But ye are all a queer set of fishes, that ye are!" exclaimed the disappointed soldier. "By the buttend of my Brown-Bess, what is it that ye will do?" 

"We go whome!" replied a Sepoy; "go to camp. Roll-call feade got we go, sar, salam, sar, salam!" 

And away they went; thus ending the colloquy which I myself overheard. The sepoys were not accustomed to such instances of true English hospitality, and their caste prejudices prevented their eating and drinking with our gallant countrymen; this I explained to the soldiers, and the Irishman remarked: 

"Bad luck to them, say I! There's as fine a roasted sheep in that there tint, as ever y'er honor would wish to dine off, with plenty of raal good pratis! Do ye think, sir, that they sapays would eat it, if we sind the whole up to the camp? 

"No, not a bit of it," replied I; "they would most probably think it an insult, particularly after having once refused." 

"Ah, you have a queer set to deal with, your honour !" said one of the party. 

"You may say that, my man," rejoined I; "but never mind, do you eat the mutton yourselves; and here is something to wash it down with, and to drink the healths of your sable-faced fellow-soldiers!" I put five rupees into the hands of one of the men, and walked away. 

"Thank ye, y'er honour," called out Paddy; we'll do that same, and wish you long life and happiness, sir!" and, touching their caps, they marched off in high glee to spend the five rupees, and I was informed the next day, that two or three soldiers were taken up drunk by the night patrol. I suppose they must have had "a wee drap in the e'e," in drinking the healths of "Jack Sapay."

Cricket is the root cause of our Olympic debacles.

Sports columnist, Nirmal Shekar, writes in his piece in The Hindu:

As a professional sportswriter, I am sick of hearing the question over and over and over again. I find it almost nauseating. If there are tens of millions posing the question, then, over the four decades that I have spent in the profession, there have been tens of hundreds of answers, from serious commentators and sports critics down to lay persons.

Why does a nation of over 1.2 billion people end up with just a few pieces of bronze and silver every four years in the most celebrated event in sport? 

This is a clever (but overused) method of using a clichéd subject for a column, by making it appear as if others are mouthing such clichés, while the writer himself is sick and tired of the question, but is forced to use his valuable column space to answer the stupid question. Something like the technique used by MGR to sneak in and take part in hot scenes in his movies, entirely imagined by the heroine, while he himself was pure and blemishless.  

Anyway, let me not get into details of those dream scenes. Back to Nirmal Shekar.

He discloses the reason for the repeated Olympic debacles:

..if you chose to leave aside all serious analysis as to why Indian track and field athletes, swimmers, gymnasts, hockey players and other Olympic participants fail to live up to our — and sometimes their own — expectations and came around to zeroing in on a rather reductionist, and surely controversial, viewpoint, the answer might be simple.

For, this question raises its ugly head for only about two weeks every four years. The rest of the time — for three full years and eleven and a half months — we are obsessed with, worship and shamelessly pay obeisance to a sport played with any degree of seriousness by eight-and-a-half nations. Let us, then, accept the truth. We are a one-sport nation. And even a toddler would tell you what that sport is.

So, let us forget the London Games. In a few weeks, the Indian cricket team will be playing in the Twenty20 World Cup in Sri Lanka where the conditions will suit Mahendra Singh Dhoni and his boys to the hilt.  

Ha, yes . Cricket is the root cause of all evils plaguing other sports in the country. QED.

He goes on to admonish the cricket-lovers:

…..we don’t care about them for three years and eleven-and-a-half months. We don’t care about their impecunious circumstances, their heroic struggles, their fight against-the-odds and battles with cynical, self-serving sports administrators heading often corrupt sports bodies.

…We have failed the Koms and the Yogeshwars and the rest as much as we seem to believe that many Indian athletes have failed us. They don’t owe us as much as we owe them.

And concludes on this grand note:

Nothing reflects our unity in diversity — and is a greater tribute to it — than our national obsession with cricket.

Sorry Mary, we forgot about your gas cylinder and the constant problems with power failures in your little house. But that is who we are.  

Yawn.  Will someone who knows this writer tell him a few things?

·         It is true that cricket is patronized in cities and large towns. But I’ve seen no evidence of the game being an obsession in smaller towns and village, where- if we are to believe our Census bureau- 60-70% of our nation lives. Tap them for your sport, by all means. We will applaud the effort.

·         Even if 100 million people are passionate about cricket in India, it is a staggering number which I suspect is more than the populations of Australia, England, New Zealand and South Africa added together. So, it does create an impression that the whole nation is doing nothing else.  But the reality is that it is still less than 10% of our population. Dip into the other 90%.

·       How does my love of cricket come in the way of progress of other games? Is it a zero-sum game? Are the cricketers encroaching on a hockey ground?  Or having their net practice in a shooting range? By all means play your respective games in your respective arenas and earn glory for the country. I am sorry about your struggles, but I assure you as a cricket-lover that I haven’t caused any of them, not do I wish that you should struggle. If the media is focusing only on cricket, don't blame me. Get them interested in your sport.

·         It is my choice not to watch or buy a ticket to watch Mary Kom in action. While I admire her spirit and her tenacity and would like her to get gas cylinders in her house and win a gold medal at the Olympics, I find boxing a barbaric sport and refuse to have anything to do with it. Same with Sushil Kumar, the vegetarian wrestler who bit his opponent’s ear and caused much blood to ooze out. In my view, wrestling is one of the ugliest events you can watch.But I do recognise that there are others who like to see their favourite wrestler chew chunks of the opponent's anatomy. I respect their right to choose and enjoy their sport.

So, please spare us the sanctimonious lectures. And stop trying to make cricket-lovers feel guilty and accountable for the poor performances in other sports, when we have enough ‘poor performance’ to contend with in cricket itself.

There must be a reason- other than cricket- why a nation of over a billion people does badly at the Olympics. Find it.  If you are obsessed with blaming cricket constantly for your ills, you will never get out of your misery.