OPEN Magazine 14 October 2013

Kejriwal’s notion of an ideal candidate

Why fast-track courts are failing us

RS 35 14 O c t o b e r 2 0 1 3

INSIDE The shadow king of world cricket l i f e

a n d

t i m e s .

e v e r y

w e e k

Hollow Men Why Rahul Gandhi and Narendra Modi are not all that different

Open Mail | editor@openmedianetwork.in Editor Manu Joseph managing Editor Rajesh Jha Deputy Editor Aresh Shirali Political Editor Hartosh Singh Bal Features and Sports Editor Akshay

Sawai

Senior Editors Kishore Seram, Haima Deshpande (Mumbai) Mumbai bureau chief Madhavankutty Pillai deputy political Editor Jatin Gandhi associate editors Dhirendra Kumar Jha, Rahul Pandita assistant editors

Anil Budur Lulla (Bangalore), Shahina KK, Aastha Atray Banan, Mihir Srivastava, Chinki Sinha Special Correspondents Aanchal Bansal, Lhendup Gyatso Bhutia (Mumbai), Gunjeet Sra Assistant Art Director Tarun Sehgal SENIOR DESIGNER Anup Banerjee photo editor Ruhani Kaur assistant Photo editor Ritesh Uttamchandani (Mumbai) Staff Photographers Ashish Sharma, Raul Irani Editorial Researcher Shailendra Tyagi asst Editor (web) Arindam Mukherjee staff writer Devika Bakshi Associate publisher Deepa Gopinath Associate general managers (advertisement) Rajeev Marwaha (North

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Volume 5 Issue 40 For the week 8—14 October 2013 Total No. of pages 64 + Covers cover illustration

Pawan Tiwary

14 october 2013

Antara Priya

I do agree that St Stephen’s is an extremely elitist college, but most of what the author has mentioned is untrue (‘Saying No to St Stephen’s’, 30 September 2013). In fact, I feel that merely focusing on marks, which is done by most colleges of Delhi University, is largely flawed, considering board exam marks are indicative of nothing much in this country.

Having an interview Having an interview helps selectors find out helps selectors find out if an applicant actually if an applicant actually does have a modicum of does have a modicum of intelligence or merely intelligence or merely did well because s/he did well because s/he can memorise pages and can memorise pages and pages of information pages of information—a prerequisite for doing well in board exams. My father is from Stephen’s as well, and he got admission despite having done his schooling in Patna. In fact, many of his classmates were not from the elite middle-class of Delhi, but were stellar students from smaller towns like Bhopal, Ranchi and Patna, and were not even concerned with graduate schools in the US. Although Stephen’s cut-off percentages have reached absolutely ridiculous highs in the last few years, it’s no reason to dismiss its tradition of academic merit.  letter of the week Politics of War

america pushed Britain in a minor way during and after WW2 for our independence, but after that we tilted towards the Soviet bloc. I knew about the USS Enterprise and Soviet ships in the Bay of Bengal in 1971 but did not guess that it was the US that goaded the Chinese to put their troops on the Himalayan border (‘Playing at War’, 30 September 2013). No wonder they lost Vietnam, militarised Afghanistan and then left it to be destroyed by the Pakistanbacked Taliban. Such stupidity and short-term goals within the US administration has led to this day where they have no moral authority left in world affairs. And it was so pleasant to read that all archrivals across party lines had come

together and supported Indira Gandhi at that time. Alas, such camaraderie is just reserved for war times in Indian politics.  Vikas Sehrawat

Man of Principles

more than intellect, Professor Yogendra Yadav has shown tremendous guts and courage in doing what he had done— standing unflinchingly on principles (‘It Was No State Secret’, 7 October 2013). Such individuals of integrity are rare today. Bravo!  Subhendu Ra j

i appreciate the way Professor Yadav has narrated his experience. It’s like recalling a journey before moving on to another journey. I also feel sad how the UGC tried to dishonour his service. Perhaps

some other important task awaits him now. I hope he finds something good to work on soon.  Virender jain

Imposter Syndrome

the author does make a point, which is that elite institutions breed not just excellence and pride in high achievement, but also a certain kind of competitiveness with fellow achievers and high expectations from family, friends and society (‘Saying No to St Stephen’s’, 30 September 2013). Some people rebel against that and refuse to get into this kind of high pressure situation, to their ultimate cost. The corollary to this is the ‘imposter syndrome’, which afflicts people who get in and feel like they got in by fluke and are doomed to be mediocre compared to their stellar classmates. It is basically a fear of failure that underlies both, which most people get over and let go once they get some life experience under their belt. In any case, I bet Professor Chopra would have done just as well going to St Stephen’s as not.  R oope sh Mathur

Of Idiots and Godmen

i wonder how people can be so stupid seeking solutions to their problems from these unscrupulous godmen (‘The Sex Lives of Godmen’, 7 October 2013). They are always exploiting the blind belief of such idiots. This is a big problem with every religion.

Spirituality does not need any godman’s nonsense ways.  Rahul Patel

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A Corner to Call Their Own tolerance

Kolkata sex workers win their right to host their own Durga puja

k o l k a t a Traffic standing still is a common sight in Kolkata during Durga puja, which starts on 9 October. But when a city sex workers’ organisation wanted to organise a puja, the local police refused permission citing traffic congestion. The Durbar Mohila Samannay Committee (DMSC), an NGO working for the upliftment of sex workers in Sonagachi, Kolkata’s main redlight area, had asked for 150 sq ft at the intersection of Abinash Kabiraj Road and Masjid Bari Lane in north Kolkata to organise a public 14 october 2013

Durga puja. When refused, representatives of DMSC moved the Calcutta High Court, alleging foul play. Admitting the plea, Justice Sanjib Banerjee on 17 September directed the city Police Commissioner S Kar Purakayastha to file a report detailing the guidelines regulating the erection of puja pandals in Kolkata. The case had been filed the previous week when the petitioners’ lawyer Arunava Ghosh submitted pictures and reports allegedly exposing how the same police station had earlier allowed a traders’ body to hold a Ganesh

puja by encroaching on around 1,000 sq ft of road. The judge directed the Burtolla police to file an affidavit explaining why the women represented

by DMSC were denied permission. The government lawyer claimed that the Ganesh puja was held without any police permission. “I would have been happier if you had demolished the unauthorised pandal,” said the judge. Naming a famous South Kolkata puja patronised by a senior minister of the government, he lamented the police’ tendency to act tough only against vulnerable

populations. The concerned minister immediately issued a public statement denying any wrongdoing. Stung by Justice Banerjee’s direction seeking a report on the granting of official permission to Public Durga puja organisers, the state government filed a revision petition with a new bench of the Calcutta High Court. This twojudge bench has now ruled that the puja can be held at the DMSC’s office premises and appointed three special observers to ensure that the celebrations pass off amicably. n Arindam Bandyopadhyay

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ronny sen

small world

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contents Vipassana guru SN Goenka

cover story Hollow men

6

angle

19

28 interview

elections

Nawazuddin Siddiqui

Candidates of the Aam Aadmi Party

9

30 cricket

Who is Sundar Raman?

24 justice

business

The case against fast-track courts

Nobel laureate Michael Spence’s advice

on able Pers Unreasotnhe Week of ■ a sa n ■

N Srin

iv

cho

BCCI hon

Filth a No-No for Nene s q u e a mish A sharp American twang rang out in the air at Juhu Beach one recent morning. “Last year it wasn’t so bad,” said a man to a companion as he surveyed the filthy condition of the beach, which not very long ago was well-maintained.

The voice belonged to Dr Shriram Nene, Madhuri Dixit’s husband. Dr Nene is a regular at the beach, often accompanied by his sons or his dog.

Ek, do, teen… Everyone’s counting the days till the beach becomes spick and span again. n Akshay Sawai

So Bad, it’ll be Good t a n t r u m T V Big Boss 7 has begun and the house is already a war zone. The former Balika Vadhu Pratyusha Banerjee is hardly behaving like an ideal ‘bahu’ and is instead earning the reputation of a troublemaker. Actress Shilpa Saklani is a mastermind who plots constantly. Yesteryear actor Armaan Kohli has a temper problem. Director Rajat Rawail cries all day. Only Kajol’s sister Tanishaa seems to have her wits about her. There is a love story in the works, too.

Starlet Gauhar Khan and TV soap actor Kushal Tandon seem to be cosying up. This season is going to be so bad, it promises to be good. n Aastha Atray Banan 4 open

F o r persisting in his refusal to

step down from the BCCI No matter how much he evades the issue, the Chennai Super Kings team is N Srinivasan’s baby. That the team is officially owned by his company India Cements is a technicality. In his recently published book, Michael Hussey, a CSK player, describes how Srinivasan turned team management over to his son-in-law Gurunath Meiyappan, who was later charged with betting in the Indian Premiere League.

The Supreme Court has also barred Srinivasan from taking charge as President of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI). For a man to refuse to step down despite all this seems incredible. Yet, true to the murkiness surrounding the BCCI, Srinivasan won another term in office unopposed. The SC was right in its observation that something is seriously wrong with the cricket controller. n 14 October 2013

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36 break-out

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b books

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Nattering with Nimrat Kaur

10 Judgements That Changed India

c cinema

On Zanjeer and the rights of writers

Laxatives for dessert

Ahoy, Internet! a ll - a b o a r d The world’s oldest newspaper is finally catching up with the times and going digital. Lloyds List began in 1734 in London as a bulletin of information on ship arrivals, departures and casualties. It continues to cover maritime

commerce. This December, for the first time in its 279 year existence, it will stop being printed. While there may not be much nostalgia among readers, the paper deserves a pat on the back for surviving nearly three centuries. n Gunjeet Sra

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Everybody loves Ranbir

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true life

NOT PEOPLE LIKE US

Once Rahul Gandhi voiced his opposition to an ordinance against the disqualification of convicted lawmakers at a press meet, Ajay Maken reframed the party’s views to match w hi p l a sh

“The decision taken by the Government over the ordinance is perfect as far as the law is concerned...

Without reading the full judgment, as a responsible government, how can we give our comments on it?”

—Ajay Maken, at a Delhi Press Club press meet

27 September 2013

“The situation with any issue evolves with time... and no one should have any objection to it…

What Rahul Gandhi said is the most important thing... that this ordinance will not help us fight corruption” —Ajay Maken, after Rahul Gandhi’s comments 27 September2013

around

turn

School Kids Or Weightlifters?

‘Save My Back’, an online petition to reduce the weight of children’s schoolbags, has already been signed by about 500 concerned parents. The petition, initiated by Delhi NGO Uday Foundation, can be found at Change.org. It is addressed to India’s Human Resources Development Ministry that already has a policy related to the weight of school bags in place for the various Kendriya Vidyalayas across India.

According to Rahul Verma, founder of the NGO, both NCERT and CBSE have policies on the weight of

H EAVE H O M E

14 October 2013

school bags since a 1993 directive. But it is not mandatory for schools to follow. As a result, students are sometimes found to be hauling up to 10 kg on their backs. The Kendriya Vidyalaya policy says that school bags for Classes 1 and 2 should not weigh more than 2 kg. For Classes 3 and 4, the bag weight should be less than 3 kg, and those studying in Classes 5 to 8 shouldn’t carry bags heavier than 4 kg. The upper limit for senior classes from 9 to 12 has been set at 6 kg. Verma says a better policy would be to provide lockers in school instead of forcing students to carry any weight at all. n Aanchal Bansal open www.openthemagazine.com 5

angle

On the Contrary

The Meditator and His Meditation On SN Goenka, the Vipassana guru who passed away this week M a d h ava n ku t t y P i l l a i

A

cravings and aversions, jumped on. The she and few others participated, word got lesson for the current way out of this was to condition the mind around and he found himself repeatedly Government from the life of SN to become inert. Constant practice would invited, at first by friends and then by Goenka, the Vipassana guru who strangers, until this was all he was doing in lead to total equanimity, even during died last Monday, would be to death, when the mind would be cravingIndia. It would be decades before he universalise the Right to Food. less, and aversionless, thus breaking the returned to Burma again. The spiritual In the initial days of his teaching, chain forever. empire kept expanding in India.

Goenka went from town to village It is interesting to imagine what Goenka In the form of meditation he taught, all conducting ten-day courses of the felt as he breathed his last. It would have experience could be broken down to meditation technique he had learnt in been a moment of truth. He was living a physical sensations, even death. He Burma. As they became popular, a trust theory floated 2,500 years ago and it was, believed in a form of rebirth in which the was formed by his disciples and permabody perished, but the mind, fuelled by its all said and done, blind belief. Any rational nent centres were established, the first mind could punch a hundred scientific coming up on a hillock in Igatpuri, holes in it.

Maharashtra, in 1976.

There were irrational elements in the The trustees initially wanted to charge Goenka’s story reads like a community he created. As the mind meditators for food and stay. They felt that Jataka fable—a rich merchant becomes concentrated, Vipassana otherwise, in a poor country like India, meditators start to identify everything every hungry person would turn up until with an incurable ailment with sensations, for which they use it became unmanageable. Goenka insisted discovers meditation for pseudoscientific labels like ‘vibrations’, that it should be free. He said it didn’t pain relief and finds a path to ‘waves’ and ‘wavelets’. It is common to hear matter who came as long as they were them say, ‘That place had good vibrations.’ willing to abide by the rigorous meditaenlightenment But essentially, what they experience tion schedule. Almost 40 years later, sameer joshi/fotocorp is a play of the brain. To assign there are now centres dotting India attributes like ‘vibrations’ to concrete and the world. No one is turned away; external objects is a leap of faith. you just need apply in advance.

There are numerous studies that Generosity can work. show meditation helps reduce stress, As a conservative Hindu householdimprove health and change one’s er with a large family, Goenka was an temperament. Extreme meditation unusual guru teaching Buddhism. His might even cause organic changes in story reads like a Jataka fable—a rich the brain. But it is not magic. As merchant with an incurable ailment Harvard neuroscientist Stephen arrives at meditation for pain relief Kosslyn observed in a New York Times and finds a path to enlightenment laid article on meditation, ‘If you do before him. something, anything, even play He had been an industry doyen in Ping-Pong, for 20 years, eight hours a Burma in the 50s and a leader of the day, there’s going to be something in local Hindu community. Prone to your brain that’s different from severely painful headaches, which someone who didn’t do that. It’s just doctors diagnosed as psychosomatic, got to be.’ he’d had his fill of medicines and Goenka had the certainty of the morphine. He took a friend’s advice convert but the missionary part of and went to a Vipassana meditation him also understood how to package centre run by a retired Burmese the teaching. One of the things he told bureaucrat. He kept returning, and non-believers was to set aside theory soon embraced it completely. After the and just practise the three main pillars Burmese government nationalised of Buddha’s teaching—ethical living, industry, he had more time to spend honing concentration and developing on spiritualism. He came to India in an insight into the impermanent 1969 on a short stay visa to teach the nature of things. “Who can have an technique to his mother, who was argument with that?” he said. To that suffering a mental disorder. After he guru Goenka with wife Elachi at the Global Vipassana Pagoda in extent, he was right. n conducted a 10-day course in which Mumbai on the occasion of 40 years of Vipassana in India in 2010 6 open

14 october 2013

india

A Hurried Man’s Guide

to the US Government Shutdown The US government shutdown is the result of a stalemate between the two houses of the US Congress—the Democrat-led Senate and the Republican-controlled House of Representatives. The stalemate revolves around an ongoing dispute over the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (ACA), a healthcare plan proposed by President Barack Obama, dubbed ‘Obamacare’. The act was passed in 2010, and was to come into effect starting 1 January 2014.

It Happens

To Catch a Killer After two escapes, ‘Ripper’ Jayanandan is back in jail Shahina KK rafi m devassy

real

The Senate and House are at odds over approving a bill to fund the US federal government after 30 September, when the last stopgap budget expired. While Republicans insist on a provision to defer the ACA another year, Democrats refuse to delay its implementation.

Under the US healthcare system, unlike those in other countries, it is prohibitively expensive to consult doctors or be treated for even minor ailments unless one has medical insurance, which is unaffordable for a significant population. In addition, insurers have been notorious for using their muscle to reject claims.

michael s. williamson/getty images

The shutdown is due to an ongoing dipute over the Affordable Care Act, Obama’s healthcare plan

inalienable The right to life, liberty and health

The ACA aims to make healthcare more affordable. But the particulars of implementation are complicated and will involve tax-raises. It is alleged that those opposing it are doing so to protect interests of big insurance.

This is the first US government shutdown in 17 years. The last time it happened was during the Clinton administration, when President Bill Clinton faced off with Republican House Speaker Newt Gingrich.

What it means is that several federal agencies will be near-suspended and thousands of public servants will be on unpaid leave till the dispute is resolved. The President, US Congress and military will be exempt from the shutdown. n

slippery fish The 45-year-old serial killer is accused of six murders and 27 cases of burglary

R

esidents of Thrissur

were relieved when ‘Ripper’ Jayanandan, the 45-year-old serial killer, death row convict and jailbreak expert, was recaptured by the police on 9 September. Jayanandan, accused of six murders and 27 burglary cases, escaped from Poojappura Central Jail in Thiruvananthapuram on the night of 11 June, his second jailbreak. He had made his first escape from Kannur Central Prison in 2009 after an abortive attempt to escape from Viyyur Central Prison in 2007.

Jayanandan was caught on his way to a house targeted for burglary in Nellayi, Thrissur. “We assume that he would have committed another burglary and possibly a murder on that day had he not been nabbed by the police. Eight types of lethal arms were found on him when he was arrested,” says Alexander Jacob, ADGP of jail administration, Kerala.

The police say Jayanandan committed four burglaries during his three months out of jail. He is said to have told police that he was not underground when on the run.

Ajitha Begum, Rural Superintendent of Police, Thrissur, says, “He told investigating officers that he participated in cultural programmes at Sahitya Academy in Thrissur.”

The police, however, are not ready

to confirm that he has been under their noses.

Most agree a jailbreak is impossible without assistance from staffers.

Jayanandan too seems to have had inside help. According to highly placed police sources, six officials in Poojappura Central Jail are suspected to have helped Jayanandan escape in exchange for bribes. “The investigation is in progress. We have almost zeroed in on the role of While on the two of them, run from jail, and may soon Jayanandan says, arrest them,” he participated says a top jail administrain cultural tion official. programmes Suspected officials were found to have made calls to Jayanandan’s wife in the days around his escape.

A native of Mala in Thrissur, Jayanandan has been convicted in two cases of murder and acquitted in three. The trial for the sixth has not yet begun. Police say most of his targets are women. He selects women-only houses, observes them for a few days and moves in for the kill. He committed most of his offences in the border areas of Thrissur and Ernakulum.

Finally, residents of these areas can sleep in peace. n 14 october 2013

business

“Self-reliance is a Good Policy for India” i nt e rvie w

Nobel laureate (2001)

simon dawson/bloomberg/getty images

and a professor of economics at Stern School of Business at New York University, Michael Spence shares his views via email with Open’s Shailendra Tyagi on lessons of the Great Recession for emerging economies and the likely withdrawal of the US monetary stimulus.

The author of The Next Convergence: the Future of Economic Growth in a Multispeed World also discusses globalisation:

You have argued that such externalities could result in partial de-globalisation. Was globalisation a bad idea to begin with?

Do you believe Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s espousal—at the recent G-20 summit—of an ‘orderly exit’ from America’s stimulus was genuine?

I am sure it was, in part because there are risks to developed economies from a very fast withdrawal of monetary support.

However, in the present circumstance, the speed of tapering will be largely calibrated to the US economy’s recovery patterns.

India and others should prepare for a reduction in the availability of low-cost external capital to finance investment.

That, I think, is the direction the Reserve Bank of India is taking.

Has the G-20 failed to set up a Global Policy Coordination Authority to supervise the ‘externalities’ of a single country’s policies?

Good question. The existence of substantial policy externalities has become increasingly apparent in the post-crisis period. It is too hard politically to establish an authoritative global policy coordination entity. Even in Europe, it is

vulnerable position. Low-cost external capital takes the pressure off the hard inter-temporal choices that countries have to make with respect to investment versus current consumption

professor spence On how to signal self sufficiency

difficult to establish and implement bilateral conditionality in an effective way. It is more puzzling that a number of developing countries (that experienced a flood of inbound capital in part as a result of low interest rate policies and had to take defensive action to prevent credit and asset bubbles and inflation) nevertheless allowed their current account deficits to expand and thereby increased their dependence on external capital to finance investment. Generally and especially in an unbalanced global economy, that is a

No, I wouldn’t say that. Globalisation has been an important engine of growth for developing countries [for which] huge accessible external markets have been crucial. The lesson really is that even in a globalised world, self-reliance is a good India needs policy. And the most higher savings, important elements of good reserves that are funding your and domestic own investment from control of its domestic savings, banking sector self-insurance in the form of reserves and substantial domestic—not necessarily State—ownership of the banking system.

Where do you see India’s growth story in the short to medium term?

There has clearly been a growth slowdown. Part of that is due to external causes, mainly trouble in developed economies, especially Europe. But some of it is internal: a slowdown in India’s reform momentum, some policy mistakes and a loss of confidence. This can all be reversed, if not in the short run, at least in the medium term. n

“We believe this transaction will open an exciting new private chapter for BlackBerry...

We can deliver immediate value to shareholders, while we continue the execution of a long-term strategy in a private company with a focus on delivering superior and secure enterprise solutions to BlackBerry customers worldwide”

Scalpel Flight

Year

Indian Medical Tourism industry

* estimates

Infographic tarun sehgal

The rupee’s fall is expected to aid a boom in inward medical tourism with domestic surgery costs falling by an estimated 30 per cent in dollar terms

Inflow of Medical Tourists Source: Assocham

14 October 2013

compiled by shailendra tyagi

Prem Watsa CEO of Fairfax Financial, a Canada-based insurer, on the buyout of BlackBerry by a consortium led by his company for $4.7 billion

news

reel

jagannaut

Hedging His Bets Out of jail, Jagan bats for a united Andhra and Modi anil budur lulla

is a long time to be in jail; it can blunt the sharpest of minds.

But Jaganmohan Reddy, son of former Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister YS Rajasekhara Reddy, who finally secured bail last week in the disproportionate assets cases he faces, has already succeeded in increasing the political temperature in a fractured state whose polity is deeply divided on the Centre’s decision to carve out a separate Telangana.

Apart from positioning himself as a votary for Samaikhya Andhra or ‘united Andhra’ at a juncture where Telangana’s creation is a mere formality by the Centre, he also set the cat among the pigeons by openly expressing admiration for Gujarat CM Narendra Modi, indicating he would not mind joining hands with him for the 2014 General Election.

“What I want Narendra Modi to do, since I appreciate him as an administrator, is change the entire system and bring every political party to the secular platform in the interest of this country.”

With this, Jagan has revealed that his YSR Congress Party (YSRCP), the party he founded after breaking away from the Congress, has several alliance options for the General Election as well as AP Assembly polls, expected to be held simultaneously.

The YSRCP, galvanised by Jagan’s release, has already petitioned the Governor to convene an early session to vote against the Telangana resolution being pushed by the Congress and Telangana Rashtra Samiti. The YSRCP is also organising a massive united Andhra rally in Hyderabad on 19 October, which has the support of the nearly 400,000 state non-gazetted employees who have been on strike since August in the Seemandhra region, protesting against the bifurcation.

That the Modi factor has crept into Andhra politics has clearly unnerved the Congress, which was comfortable in the thought that once Telangana was formed, the party could rely on the goodwill of the people of the new state to vote it into power and help it win at least 15 Lok Sabha seats. In 2009, of the total 42 Lok Sabha seats of Andhra Pradesh, the

Sixteen months

10 open

Congress had bagged 32. Its thinking that the TRS, at the forefront of the Telengana agitation, would merge with it has received a body blow as TRS Chief K Chandrasekhar Rao increasingly appears to be veering toward the BJP as the bifurcation is indefinitely postponed.

That Jagan has invoked Modi is significant. Since he was named the BJP’s prime ministerial candidate for 2014, Modi has not been able to get such open support from any regional party or former ally so far, even losing long term ally Janata Dal United.

When the Gujarat CM addressed a rally in Hyderabad in September, he paid rich tributes to thespian and TDP founder NT Rama Rao, who gave AP its first non-Congress government riding on Telugu pride.

It was widely speculated that he was

That Jaganmohan Reddy has kept the BJP link open speaks volumes about his political thinking. Most central Congress leaders believed he is a novice, a first-time MP from Kadapa elected largely on his father’s reputation sending positive signals to woo NTR’s son-in-law and current TDP Chief N Chandrababu Naidu back into the NDA fold. When Naidu was CM, he had distanced himself from the BJP-led NDA, citing the 2002 Gujarat violence. Now, despite Modi being positioned as prime ministerial candidate, the TDP is slowly warming up to its former ally.

Jagan’s interest in a formation led by NDA does not come as a surprise at all, considering that three years ago he was all set to topple the Congress government in AP with the help of Gali Janardhan Reddy, Bellary’s BJP strongman and the force behind the saffron party forming its first government in the South, in Karnataka.

Jagan and Reddy were business partners,

too. But things did not go as he would have liked, as the Congress High Command, unable to influence him to stop his highly successful odarpu or thanksgiving yatra to visit families who lost their loved ones in shock or committed suicide at the sudden death of YSR in a copter crash, set the Income Tax department, Enforcement Directorate and CBI on Jagan in quick succession. Janardhan Reddy too was snared as his partner in crime and is still in jail. And Telangana became a fullblown crisis.

That Jagan had kept the BJP link open speaks volumes about his political thinking. Most central Congress leaders believed he is a novice, a first-time MP from Kadapa elected largely on his father’s reputation. While in jail, Jagan had toyed with the idea of the YSRCP playing a similar role to that of the Nationalist Congress Party in Maharashtra, which shares power at both the state level and the Centre. The NCP idea was floated by him in an effort to build bridges with the Congress, but once the YSRCP emerged victorious in the by-elections of June 2012, winning 15 of 18 seats, and the Congress ignored him, merging with actor Chiranjeevi’s Praja Rajyam Party instead, Jagan felt unwanted. The fact that the Congress was using the CBI to make him buckle only alienated him further, says a seasoned observer.

After his release, ruling out any pact with the Congress, Jagan said: “I am from this generation and what I want is peace and development,” which some interpret as favouring Modi. But it remains to be seen whether the BJP will readily forge a pre-poll alliance with the YSRCP, as Jagan is yet to get a clean chit from the CBI, though the agency claims it has no substantial evidence in most of the cases against Jagan it investigated.

Jagan has also decried efforts by the TDP to paint him as a Congress agent. Senior Congress leader Palvai Goverdhan Reddy is already on record saying that, given AP CM Kiran Kumar Reddy’s continued resistance to the Congress line on Telangana, the party would depend on Jagan to deliver a bloodless transfer, as he was in a better position to strike a deal on behalf of the Seeamandhra people, especially on the contentious status of Hyderabad.

As things stand in Seemandhra, the YSRCP has successfully eaten into the Congress vote, reason enough for Kiran Kumar Reddy to oppose the creation of Telangana and salvage the situation. But the Congress leadership is in no mood to listen and has its own set of beliefs on how the dice will roll. n 14 october 2013

opinion

R A H U L PA N D I TA

e l a st i c i t y

The United Colours of Abdullah Lessons the J&K Chief Minister has learnt from his father J a m m u & K a s h m i r Chief Minister Omar Abdullah likes to call himself a patriotic Indian. That is one trait he has inherited from his father Farooq Abdullah who realised very early in his political career that the best way to stay in power in J&K is to align oneself with whosoever is in power in New Delhi. But every now and then, when the situation back home becomes uncontrollable, both father and son follow a pre-determined formula to send a message to those who elect them: say something that sounds more separatist than the separatist line.

Recently, a delegation from the European Union met Omar in Srinagar. Omar reportedly told them that Kashmir’s accession to India was conditional and that while economic development could pave the way for a dialogue, it could not lead to a political solution. “While all the states acceded to the Union of India and then merged with it, Jammu & Kashmir only acceded and [did] not merge. That is why we have special status, our own constitution and state flag,” the news agency IANS quoted Omar as saying, addressing the EU delegation headed by João Cravinho. “While one extremist view is for secession, the other extremist opinion is total merger of the state with the Union of India,” Omar told the delegation.

One extreme view for secession that separatist groups hold in the Kashmir Valley is understandable. Separatist leaders need to toe this line since it justifies their existence and ensures a steady flow of money from their masters. But why would the state’s youngest ever CM, who has also held two important portfolios in the Union Cabinet, consider Kashmir’s total merger with India an extreme opinion?

Therein lies the rub. Omar’s political existence is as precarious as that of his separatist counterparts. In the absence of an issue, the separatist leaders become irrelevant. In 2011 and 2012, separatist leader Mirwaiz Umar Farooq would in his Friday sermons talk of water and electricity issues. In 2013, Farooq and other separatists were handed an issue on a platter

by New Delhi in the form of Afzal Guru’s hanging.

The truth is that Omar has failed to deliver. Time and again, he has made tall promises on the issue of the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA), but he hasn’t been able to push it with the Central Government. The recent controversy generated around the former Army Chief General VK Singh has also undermined his authority. Often, he is not aware of various intelligence inputs provided by Central agencies though he ceremonially heads the Unified Command in Kashmir.

Omar has ordered a probe of the recent killing of five youngsters in CRPF firing in southern Kashmir’s Shopian district.

Since he took over as Chief Minister in January 2009, more than 60 such inquires into cases of alleged human rights viola12 open

tions have been ordered. But they have yielded no results so far.

The Chief Minister keeps making all the right noises about the return of Kashmiri Pandits, but it is far from being possible. By his own recent admission, the state’s current fiscal situation is grim and is totally dependent on the Centre’s assistance. How would the state survive, one should then ask Omar, if it were not an integral part of India?

But the Abdullahs are not alone to be blamed; gullible political observers and other such creatures in New Delhi must also be blamed for failing to call their bluff. Omar began his 2008 speech in Parliament in support of the Indo-US Nuclear Deal by saying, “I am a Muslim and I am an Indian.” He further said that it was a mistake to be with the NDA, especially after the Gujarat riots. This speech of his was hailed by political commentators and became a hit on YouTube. But nobody Omar Abdullah’s asked him why he chose political existence is as to retain his External Affairs portfolio as a precarious as that of his Minister of State in the separatist counterparts.

Vajpayee Government in In the absence of an the thick of the riots. issue, separatist leaders Nobody asked him why he chose to ally with the BJP become irrelevant. The in the first place, just a few truth is that Omar has years after the Babri failed to deliver Masjid demolition.

Farooq Abdullah had done something similar in 1986 when he forged a pact with then Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi, creating a pattern that Omar has been copying all these years. Later, after he’d had his pound of flesh, Farooq called his pact with the Congress a big mistake. But today, thanks to his lessons, his son is the Chief Minister of J&K, while he himself remains a Union Minister in the current Congress regime.

In a recent conversation with a group of journalists from The Indian Express, in response to a question, Farooq said that nobody knows who is going to be whose ally in the next General Election. In his answer to the next question, he said his party had decided not to go with the BJP. But looking at his past record, one cannot be sure.

As for Omar, two years ago he had said that he often joked with Rahul Gandhi that if the latter loses an election he will probably learn a lot more than he does by winning. Though Omar himself has lost an election in the past, it seems he still has many lessons to learn. One can only hope that not all of them come from his father. n 14 october 2013

CO M M E N T

The Hero and the Prince In the democracy they disdain, there should really be no place for either Hartosh Singh Bal

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s this week has once again proved, Manmohan

Singh is an easy target. Rahul Gandhi’s attack of the ordinance on convicted politicians drafted by the Manmohan Singh administration was an attempt to reverse the decline of his popularity among the public and within the Congress party. Even as the Prime Minister’s aides were struggling to cope with the fallout, the BJP’s would-be Prime Minister Narendra Modi stood up in 14 open

Delhi to criticise Manmohan Singh for stammering before US President Obama about India’s poverty. Modi then took it upon himself to declare that Pakistan’s Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif had gravely offended the Indian Republic by comparing Manmohan Singh to a dehati aurat (‘village woman’).

Crude and opportunistic, Rahul Gandhi’s attempts backfired. But it did establish that for the sake of protect14 October 2013

ing his image he was not only willing to stand on either side of an issue within the course of days, but also abandon and insult a man whose loyalty towards him has never wavered. At the same time, Modi’s attack established that he was willing to subvert the truth for the sake of personal aggrandisement. Speaking about poverty alleviation is hardly the same thing as stammering about poverty and even Narendra Modi must realise that 14 October 2013

Washington DC is the fulcrum for any leverage India may wish to exercise with Pakistan.

For both Modi and Gandhi, the position of an Indian Prime Minister representing the country abroad and the possibility of a dialogue between India and Pakistan are minor matters in their quest for furthering their self-image. This is no coincidence. In the cold pursuit of their ambitions, unhampered by any reservations that may stem open www.openthemagazine.com 15

ashish sharma

image obsessed Both Rahul Gandhi and Narendra Modi seem to care more about what people think of them than thinking about India

from personal convictions or the requirements of national policy that go beyond their selves, they are far more similar than they may appear.

It is easy enough to mark out the differences between a self-made man and a dynast, a demagogue and a fumbling public speaker, a man who leads from the front and one who is not willing to assume any direct responsibility, but the similarities go even deeper. Both Modi and Gandhi seek to be above and beyond their political parties. For both, the dynamics of power flows only one way, neither of them is answerable to anyone, open to criticism from anyone. Which is why neither is willing to admit a mistake, major or minor, nor willing to submit to questioning from any observer who is not a participant in their personality cults. Both are men so enamoured of their own image that this is the sole reality that constitutes them. It is impossible to discern any conviction or principle that lies at their core beyond their image of themselves.

Both have been the subject of two biographies each. It is worthwhile going through these books. There is no shortage of discussion on Brand Modi and Brand Rahul, neither is there any lack of examination of the media management and PR machinery of the two. But there is nothing to reveal what either man stands for or what the principles are that each is unwilling to ever compromise on. In their book on Rahul Gandhi, Jatin Gandhi and Veenu Sandhu cite an interview of Pratap Bhanu Mehta on Rediff.com where he states: “I think Rahul is making the biggest mistake in thinking that… somehow you can be a big national leader without taking a clear public stand on the major issues of the country.”

There is a telling moment in Kingshuk Nag’s book The Namo Story: ‘Modi also loves to project himself as a hero, a powerful man, destroying all villains. Any contra-projection angers him. I got a taste of this on the morrow of the Akshardham incident in November 2002. When The Times of India reported how Modi and Advani ventured to enter the complex and pose next to the bodies of the two assailants who had been shot to death, I was greeted by an early morning call from an incensed Modi. ‘Why are you writing that we went in after the intruders were killed? It conveys I am a weak man,’ Modi said.’ It is unsurprising that on the morning after a terrorist incident of this scale, Modi’s real concern was about the impact of the attack on his image.

The image of the hero allows for no obstacles, or deities, as LK Advani has recently found and Keshubhai Patel did much earlier. Modi’s path to the top is littered with fallen idols. Even the very organisation that he owes his entire career to, the RSS, stands decimated and marginalised in Gujarat. Unlike in other states such as Madhya Pradesh that have a BJP administration, the Sangh Parivar has no say in the Modi administration and the anger within the VHP against him is explicit. Many of those accused of the 2002 killings in Gujarat feel they have been left to fend for 16 open

Both Modi and Gandhi seek to be above and beyond their political parties. For both, the dynamics of power flows only one way. Which is why neither is willing to admit a mistake, nor willing to submit to questioning from anyone

themselves while Modi has accrued to himself the political gains of their actions.

Neither is such an image open to scrutiny. This is one of the reasons that Modi has not let an independent lokayukta be appointed in Gujarat. His interviews, much like the ones Sonia Gandhi used to give, seem pre-scripted with little or no space for counter questions. Speaking to The Wall Street Journal on malnutrition earlier this year, Modi said girls in Gujarat suffer malnutrition because it is a vegetarian state where beauty-conscious girls refuse to drink milk when their mothers ask them to. Asked about the Gujarat killings in a Reuters interview, his mind conjured a puppy run over by a car. If this were a simple case of a politician concerned about his self-image, the mistakes could have been acknowledged subsequently and rectified. Politicians such as Bill Clinton have shown that a little humility and contrition go a long way in shoring up a political career. But for Modi, this would mean acknowledging a mistake, and leaders of a cult do not make mistakes, which is why he can claim that China spends 20 per cent of its budget on education and let that statement stand even when it is patently untrue.

This is a trait Gandhi shares. It began with his claim that he could have been PM at 25. It continued with his confusion between ashes of the dead and burnt dung heaps in Bhatta Parsaul, where he thought he spotted signs of a massacre of farmers protesting land acquisition. These are statements of his that require an explanation or expression of regret. Again, neither is forthcoming. And exactly as is the case with Modi, this prince cannot be subjected to a sceptical questioner. He has never granted 14 October 2013

Even as we face up to the fact that we have never had an election that is so polarising, we must also acknowledge that we have never had an election where such a large number of voters are wary of either of the choices they are presented with

detailed interviews to the media. He has never addressed difficult or uncomfortable questions, or faced such questioners.

Aarthi Ramchandran’s book on Rahul Gandhi has a chapter devoted to political opportunism and inaction that begins with the Bhatta Parsaul incident: ‘It was another case of shoot-and-scoot-politics that has become Rahul Gandhi’s hallmark.’ She then deals with the drama played out over the Lokpal Bill where Rahul made a lastminute entry to the debate and claimed his suggestion of Constitutional status for the Lokpal as a ‘game-changer’.

It was anything but. However, shoot-and-scoot-politics is a perfect description of how Gandhi acted during his recent intervention on the convicted-politician ordinance, with much the same consequences as in previous cases.

It is no surprise that speaking on behalf of the Nationalist Congress Party, a UPA ally, its spokesperson DP Tripathi said, “Mr Rahul Gandhi is free to say whatever he wishes to say about the Congress party, but the Government led by Manmohan Singh is not a Congress government. It is the UPA Government and I am sure Rahul Gandhi knows we are his allies and not his followers.” Tripathi’s reasons for saying so may be a product of cynical self-interest, but they point to something significant. Modi is not the only one who has an ally problem, so does Gandhi, which is why we have never seen him deal with any issue that involves the UPA. Tripathi’s analysis is succinct and to-the-point, for Gandhi is unable to operate in a forum where he is surrounded not by followers but people who will presume to speak as his equals.

Again, unsurprisingly, that is a description that applies 18 open

in equal measure to Modi. This is simply not a case of allies not liking Modi, it goes beyond. In his book on Modi, Nilanjan Mukhopadhyay notes: ‘I asked him about how he looked at the coalition era and the fact that this phase did not appear to be fading away… Modi was unequivocal in his view that ‘by compulsory voting, this problem will get resolved’.’

If we consider these traits collectively, a failure to deal with equals, a discomfort with the diversity of this country, an inability to face sceptical examination or admit mistakes and a disdain for the party structure, we are left with two men who are actually deeply uncomfortable with the workings of a democracy. What we are in effect being offered are two cults, one older and more established, and the other charged with the fervour of neo-converts. This is evident in the manner in which their cult followers react to dissent.

I have had several occasions to deal with Manushi Editor Madhu Kishwar’s defence of Modi. It can be greatly amusing to hear of Modi as a man who is implementing Mahatma Gandhi’s ideas, but it is alarming when she asserts that most of Modi’s critics are paid stooges of the Congress. And then in the wake of Gandhi’s theatre on the ordinance, I read the political scientist Radha Kumar’s defence of his actions in The Indian Express, which begins by saying, ‘Led by the BJP, naysayers—which unfortunately includes most of the media …’

Only their belief in their respective cults can excuse such delusion. And like all cults, they feel everyone who stands outside their respective cults is an enemy. This is a clear indication of the dangers that lie ahead if either of these men is a central figure in the next administration.

Rahul Gandhi may not be projected as the Congress party’s Prime Ministerial candidate, but given his mother’s failing health, he would be the most powerful figure in any administration where the party plays an important role.

To then posit these elections as a choice between ‘communalism’ and ‘corruption’ is not just an oversimplification, it ignores the very real and common dangers posed by either alternative. It is already clear that some of the support that Modi has garnered stems from a dislike of an administration that the Congress has run over the past five years. It is also clear that some of the votes accruing to the Congress and its allies will be a result of a revulsion for Modi.

Supporters of the respective cults will read the numbers differently, but even as we face up to the fact that we have never had an election that is so polarising, we must also acknowledge that we have never had an election where such a large number of voters are wary of either of the choices they are presented with. The effect of these voters may not be palpable, some may be forced to make the best of a bad bargain, some may abstain, but their very existence is a sign that despite Modi and Gandhi, there is still some vitality left in this democracy. n 14 October 2013

c a n d i dac y

Of the People Arvind Kejriwal’s party, true to its name, has pledged to put up ‘common people’ for Delhi’s Assembly polls.

We speak to some of them Mihir Srivastava photographs by ashish sharma

no to segregation Shazia Ilmi, a former TV anchor, is contesting Delhi’s RK Puram seat

mango people (Clockwise from above) Somnath Bharti, AAP’s Malviya Nagar candidate, is a lawyer; Bhaag Singh, Kalkaji candidate, is an autorickshaw driver; Surinder Singh, candidate for Delhi Cantonment, was an Army commando

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he Aam Aadmi Party (AAP), as its

name suggests, was set up last year as a party for ‘common people’. But who are Arvind Kejriwal and his cohorts talking about? Who do they see as common people? According to the party, these are people at large, the vast numbers who vote a tiny political elite to power but never get to share that power. Their concerns are basic: bijli, paani and other civic amenities. Let alone the rest of the country, the party says even Delhi has failed ordinary people on the basic provisions of electricity, water and sanitation that everyone is entitled to. The solution, the AAP believes, is a government by the people for the people: swaraj, in other words, or self-rule.

For Delhi’s forthcoming Assembly polls, the AAP has put up what it considers aam aadmi candidates. These are people from varied walks of life who have been picked on principle, it claims, people who feel exploited by the system, want to make a difference, and will not

tion process, he says, is both elaborate and transparent. Anyone may apply or have their names proposed by others. A screening committee shortlists two to five names for each constituency, and puts them on the party website for feedback from volunteers and voters at large.

If there is an objection to someone backed by proof of reason, the person’s candidacy is struck off. Guided by online and other feedback, a final list is prepared by the party’s Political Affairs Committee, which has Kejriwal, Yogendra Yadav and Prashant Bhushan among others as members.

Several AAP candidates have already been selected, some of whom Open met.

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go the grubby route of paying for an electoral ticket of a major political party.

They can’t even afford to play politics as usual. They do not have deep pockets and rely on money collected from supporters to fund their campaigns. The broad idea is to join the system to change it from within.

Right now, Kejriwal is engaged in his first major political battle: to dislodge Delhi Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit, one of the most re-elected leaders of an Indian state ever. Does he have a strategy to achieve this? “We will form the government,” he replies, without batting an eyelid, “You wait and see.”

Dikshit dismisses Kejriwal’s party as one of mere “nuisance value” that could “cut into our vote share and somewhere into that of the BJP”, with no chance of winning power in Delhi. Is she taking the AAP too lightly? Says a senior Congress leader of Delhi who once held a Union Government office: “[AAP] 14 October 2013

Kejriwal is engaged in his first major political battle: to dislodge Delhi Chief Minister Sheila Dikshit, one of India’s most re-elected state leaders might not form the [state] government, but might be in a position to decide who forms the government.”

On his part, Kejriwal intends to be much more than just a nuisance. He is set to challenge Dikshit directly by pitting his candidacy against hers in her Assembly constituency. “If she decides to avoid such a contest in the New Delhi constituency out of fear and move to another,” says the AAP leader, “I will also move to the seat from where she is contesting.”

Other AAP candidates, he expects, will be equally successful. The party’s selec-

mong the best recognised AAP can-

didates is Shazia Ilmi, a former TV anchor who is contesting the RK Puram seat. She is married, lives in Delhi and says she cannot stand segregation of any kind, be it by gender, religion, caste or creed. The daughter of Urdu journalist Siyasat Jadid, she grew up in a Muslim family of Kanpur, questioning the orthodox customs of a patriarchal society. “Why should I cook if I don’t feel like cooking?” Or “Why can’t my brother serve me food like I serve [the family] all the time?”

After her schooling at St Mary’s Convent, Ilmi did a Master’s in Mass Communication at Jamia Millia Islamia in Delhi and then got a diploma in broadcast journalism from University of Wales, Cardiff. “I never wanted to go back to Kanpur,” she says.

Addressing a gathering in RK Puram, with Kejriwal seated by her side, she raises her arms high to proclaim, “[Politicians] only know to how to raaj (rule), they have no neeti (policy).” This gets a round of loud applause. She refers to a CAG report on last year’s government spending on public works in Delhi.

Nearly 95 per cent of these projects have not been issued completion certificates, she says. “The money is gone, is paid, but no one knows whether it was utilised or not. And we are talking about lakhs of crores of rupees.”

Fault-finding, though, is easier than running a state government. Why, I ask, should Delhi’s voters elect the AAP? “We will deliver clean governance,” she says, open www.openthemagazine.com 21

“And will not make money for ourselves.” Experience has little bearing on the quality of governance, she believes, given how badly this country has been run by veteran politicians.

“The MLA funds are mostly misused,” she says.

The party’s election plan has divided the city into zones, each with a group of constituencies, with specific ground conditions in each guiding the campaign. In Ilmi’s constituency, for example, she has declared war against a water tanker mafia that has the patronage of senior Congress and BJP members. Street lanes in RK Puram have been done, dug up and redone several times, but the state government has failed to reach sanitation and water facilities to jhuggi clusters in the adjoining areas. “[Parties] pay them money and distribute liquor before voting and forget about them after the elections,” Ilmi says, “People are treated as vote banks that they want to encash during elections.” The denial of basic amenities, she says, is a “joke” that this government has played on them, something they need to be aware of.

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ix-and-a-half-foot tall Praveen

Kumar stands out in a crowd. Once an athlete, he participated in the Olympics, Asiad and Commonwealth Games for India in the 1960s as a hammer/discus thrower. Apart from several international medals, he won the Arjuna Award in 1962. He is famous, however, for having played the role of Bheem in the televised epic Mahabharata in the 1990s.

Kumar is the AAP candidate for Ashok Vihar, where he lives and enjoys the reputation of a soft-spoken elder known locally for the wisdom of his opinions on day-to-day issues. Disillusioned by the country’s attempt to be a welfare state, he wanted to do something about it. He was approached by many parties to take the plunge into electoral politics, but the murkiness of it put him off. It was on the insistence of others in the locality that he agreed to contest the polls on an AAP ticket.

Seated in his house, unbothered by the hustle bustle around him, he airs caustic views in a polite voice. “Politicians are worse than beggars,” he says, “They have no assool (principles). They are syco22 open

plain-spoken “Main bikau nahin hoon aur dande le kar kaam karana janta hoon,” says Praveen Kumar, AAP candidate for Ashok Vihar

phants who either chant ‘Modi Modi’ or ‘Gandhi Gandhi’.”

People are not fools, he asserts, they just haven’t had an alternative. They know that governance is all sham, a game of crooks. “They would remove bricks from drains of B-block and construct another drain in C-block [of Ashok Vihar].”

But how would he be able to fix governance? “Main bikau nahin hoon, aur dande le kar kaam karana janta hoon,” he says.

(I am not corrupt and can use sticks to get work done.) “What else is an MLA required to do? I am committed to the welfare of people. I have joined politics for no other reason. I don’t need politics in my life and I know my area like the back of my hand.”

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urinder Singh was an Army com-

mando who belonged to one of India’s oldest infantry regiments The Grenadiers. He has seen plenty of action in his 14-year career in uniform: such as the Kargil War, Operation Parakram, Operation Sadbhavna and Operation Black Thunder. He also served as part of the UN mission in Congo. This election, however, promises to be his most interesting battle. He is the AAP candidate for Delhi Cantonment.

Surinder Singh’s son was born a day before he was sent to fight terror in Mumbai during the 26/11 attacks. That was Operation Black Thunder. He suffered serious injuries when a closeby explosion riddled him with splinters. He lost his hearing as a result of it, and was declared 14 October 2013

unfit and relieved of Army duty in October 2011.

For 19 months after that, he did not receive his pension. He could barely make ends meet, let alone pay for his treatment.

Kejriwal took up his case and got him his due. He has not fully recovered, but is keen to contest the polls on behalf of all those who find themselves voiceless.

Singh lives in rented accommodation in Mehram Nagar near Delhi Airport with his parents, wife and two children.

His fight is funded by donations from would-be voters. He says he stands for satta parivatan, a change in government.

“Sarkar sirf nariyal phor rahi hai”, he says. (The government is only announcing new projects to entice voters.) But what Delhi needs is to ensure basics. If elected, he vows to place special emphasis on education.

Fellow servicemen form a sizeable number of voters in Singh’s constituency, and he is canvassing their votes door to door. “If I don’t deliver, then I am willing to be recalled,” he says, “I want to be held responsible for my area. Unlike other parties where the high command decides what needs to be done, in AAP, it is the people of the constituency who will decide what has to be done. Arvind Kejriwal mujhe nahin bata sakte ki meri constituency mein kya karna hai (Even Arvind Kejriwal cannot tell me what needs to be done in my constituency).”

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haag Singh, the party’s Kalkaji can-

didate, is a 47-year-old autorickshaw driver originally from Gurdaspur district of Punjab. The youngest in a family of ten siblings, he reached Delhi looking for a job some 20 years ago. It evaded him for a long time, and so he decided to employ himself. He earned Rs 150 on his first day as an auto driver, and that settled it: it would be his livelihood.

But Bhaag Singh is an auto driver with a difference. He is religious and likes to discuss religion. He offers passengers who talk spirituality with him a 10-per cent discount on the fare. He starts his day with prayers and teaches children Gurbani at a local gurdwara. Religion, he says, has strengthened his belief in hard work: the fruit of labour is sweet, he says, and one should always put in one’s best effort. He would like to keep driving his

14 October 2013

autorickshaw as a legislator, if he wins, so long as he has the time. “Like writers don’t stop writing or lawyers don’t quit practising law [as MLAs],” he says, “I will also keep up my work.”

If elected, he would like to overhaul a transport system marred with corruption. “It’s the most corrupt department [in Delhi],” he says, “We have to pay a heavy bribe to get a commercial driving licence and other paperwork done.”

In response to a fear expressed by some of Delhi’s regular auto users, Bhaag Singh wants to assure everyone that the city’s auto-drivers will not be emboldened to behave even more rudely with passengers if he wins. Auto drivers lead tough lives, he says, but he advises them to be fair and polite: they should first invite passengers, who are akin to God, to take their seats and then ask where they would like to go, not the other way round to screen who they will take and who not.

“When on the road, you can’t say ‘no’ to a

The Jan Lokpal Bill will be passed within 15 days of AAP’s coming to power, says Bhaag Singh, the party’s Kalkaji candidate.

Power tariffs will be halved passenger,” he says, “We will come out with rules for auto rickshaw drivers.”

Like other AAP candidates, he is banking on cash contributions for his campaign. “Even a Rs 10 donation is welcome.

I need the support of people to fight for their cause.” He is on a public contact programme, going to open parks, stopping by tea stalls, and mixing with people all around to gather crowds and explain his party’s agenda. The Jan Lokpal Bill will be passed within 15 days of AAP’s coming to power, he says. Power tariffs will be halved and every family will be assured at least 700 litres of water per month.

Some of his political deliberations sound like those of a religious preacher.

Governance, he says, should be practised like religion—with devotion.

But are good intentions enough to inspire confidence in his candidacy? “I am for swaraj,” he says, “I am just a medium for people’s voices. They have to decide

what has to be done in their area. Who would understand their plight better than me who has been a victim of government apathy?”

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omnath Bharti, the Malviya Nagar

candidate of the party, is a lawyer who believes all human beings are a manifestation of God and hence essentially equal. He grew up in a family inclined towards religion in Gaya, Bihar, did his Master’s in Mathematics at IIT-Delhi, and then went on to study law. Now he is an advocate of change. “Indian polity needs complete overhauling,” he says, “The system should be people-centric and accountable.”

An active participant in the Janlokpal movement, he sees Gandhi as his role model and his dream for the country is of poorna swaraj, complete self rule.

By way of career, Bharti began as a teacher at a coaching institute in south Delhi. Then he started an infotech company called Bharti and Associates. For the past three years, he has worked closely with Bhushan and Kejriwal. As an activist lawyer, Bharti has filed many PILs and undertaken pro bono litigation on behalf of the AAP. Recently, he was in the news for lending legal support to eight boys who were falsely implicated by the Delhi Police in last December’s gang-rape case.

Bharti claims to have been offered tickets by India’s big political parties to contest elections. He speaks of a meeting with Kanishka Singh, a key aide of Rahul Gandhi, and Congress leader Kapil Sibal who he says tried to persuade him to accept a Congress ticket. But he was not sure he wanted to join any of the regular parties, repulsed as he was by their selfserving politics.

It was Kejriwal who drew Bharti to the AAP. At a public function a couple of years ago, he heard Kejriwal recite a piece of poetry by Dushyant Kumar in Hindi: Sirf hungaama khada karna mera maksad nahin Saari koshish hai ke ye soorat badalni chaahiye As an activist who has sought the Judiciary’s intervention time and again for the cause of social justice, Bharti feels his idealism could be served more effectively by joining active politics. The AAP was his natural choice. n open www.openthemagazine.com 23

r ec k l e s s

The Case Against Fast Track Courts

saurabh das/Ap

Why Delhi’s experiment with speedy justice has been a disappointment Lhendup G Bhutia

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day after the Saket fast track court’s judgment that awarded death sentences to the four who stood trial for last December’s gang-rape in Delhi, many of the prosecutors involved in the case are refusing to speak with the media. The special public prosecutor on the case, Dayan Krishnan, declines interview requests. The directorate of Delhi’s prosecution agency, BS Joon, has had his cellphone switched off for at least two days. The only individual somewhat forthcoming is AT Ansari, another special public prosecutor. But he is brusque. “We are extremely pleased [with the judgment],” he says. “The Judiciary has shown swift judgments are possible. It has shown fast track courts can really work.”

The Delhi gang-rape trial was indeed conducted swiftly. In regular courts, rape cases usually take at least three years for a judgment, say lawyers. This one took less than nine months. Proceedings began in early February and wound up by 13 September. As many as 112 witnesses testified, including doctors—via videoconference—from Mount Elizabeth Hospital in Singapore, where the victim was flown for treatment. Hundreds of pages of evidence had to be recorded. “We did not leave any loopholes,” says Ansari, “We created a foolproof case.”

The judgment has created an upbeat mood in the country. People are impressed by the boldness of punishment as much as the quick dispensation of justice. Ansari claims that the verdict illustrates the good work being done by the six fast track courts that the Indian Judiciary set up early this year to deal with cases of sexual assault.

Yet, whether the overall cause of justice is served any better by speedy courts is far from clear. When the courts were first set up, fast-paced trials were expected to keep witnesses from being bought over and turning hostile. This, many had thought, would help raise the conviction rate. However, according to data provided by Delhi’s prosecution agency to The Wall Street Journal, the six fast track courts managed a rate of only 32 per cent till June 2013. They undertook a total of

‘war for justice’ Protestors demand speedy justice for the victim of last year’s Delhi gang-rape

299 trials in this period, of which 95 led to convictions. In comparison, of the 547 rape cases that Delhi’s regular courts tried and issued judgments on in 2012, as many as 204 led to convictions, a rate of 37 per cent.

Asked about this, Ansari says that in Saket’s fast track court only three of 25 cases have resulted in convictions so far.

This includes the Delhi gang-rape case.

Another 150 cases are still to have court hearings. “The fast track courts are not here to convict people, but to complete cases quickly,” says BS Kain, additional public prosecutor and public information officer at Delhi’s prosecution agency. “In most of these cases, the witnesses later turned hostile.”

According to Tariq Adeeb, a Supreme Court advocate who handles human rights’ cases, the belief that fast track courts will lead to more convictions is a popular but faulty notion. “People seem to presume that swifter judgments mean more convictions,” he says, “But it’s not

According to Tariq Adeeb, a Supreme Court advocate, the belief that fast track courts will lead to more convictions is a popular but faulty notion just the court that is responsible here.

The police have to do a good job of building a case. The cases themselves have to be genuine, and quite a few times they are not, and witnesses have to stick to their [testimonies] and not turn hostile.”

Another reason fast track courts were welcomed was the clog-up of cases at regular courts. Some point out that even as new courts try to lessen the backlog of sexual assault cases, they are themselves on the verge of getting overwhelmed. At the start of the year, just before the six courts were established, around 1,400 rape cases in Delhi were awaiting trial, according to Kain. They have cleared quite a few of these. But despite their efforts, so many new cases of rape came in that the figure had ballooned to over 1,600 by August. “We aren’t sure if and how long these fast track courts will be able to sustain themopen www.openthemagazine.com 25

selves, given the number of rape cases being reported,” says Adeeb.

F

ast track courts in India made their debut back in 2001. Their objective was to help clear the heavy pileup of cases of all kind that the Judiciary was reeling under. To that end, 1,734 such speedy courts were set up across the country. Most of them, however, were wound up in 2011, when the Central Government stopped funding them.

The Centre claimed that these courts were too expensive to run. The few that are still in operation depend on their respective state governments for funds.

It was the mass outrage against the 16 December 2012 gang-rape that prompted Delhi’s state government to set up the city’s six fast track courts. Two of them are located in the Tees Hazari complex (one for cases from west Delhi, the other from central and north Delhi). The other four are at Rohini (for north-west and outer Delhi), Saket (for south and southeast Delhi), Dwarka (for south-west Delhi) and Karkardooma (for central and north Delhi).

“Their establishment was nothing but a palliative gesture,” says Rebecca Mammen John, a Supreme Court lawyer, “People were upset and outraged, and the government wanted to make a show of things.”

Clearing the backlog of cases, say lawyers, is not just a matter of announcing new courts. India just does not have enough judges and this is what keeps the processes of justice so slow. The country currently has about 12 judges for every million people. In contrast, the US has over 50 per million. By the estimate of Colin Gonsalves, a senior Supreme Court lawyer and founder-director of the Human Rights Law Network, India needs at least five times as many judges as it has.

“When the Government shut down many of those fast track courts, it was an admission that these don’t help clear the backlog,” he says, “Yet, [Delhi] went ahead and set up these six, in a way lying to the people that this was the solution to their woes.”

Given the shortage of judges, the setting up of these six special-focus courts poses a problem for justice overall. If the Judiciary chooses to fast track some cases 26 open

(of sexual assault in this instance), this must inevitably be at the cost of slowing down others. Judges for Delhi’s six fast track courts were picked up from regular sessions courts, leaving the rest of the judges there with an increased burden of work. “There are other equally important cases—of murder, riots and thefts. What message are you sending out?” asks John, “That these cases aren’t as important?”

John is currently representing some of the accused in the 2005 Delhi Diwali Bomb Blast case, which has recently been transferred to another court. “Many people lost lives in this case. Many are languishing in jail,” she says, “I can’t understand why this case isn’t important enough to be fast tracked?” She also points out that 26 of Delhi’s 89 sessions courts have been designated as anti-corruption courts. “After the Anna Hazare movement against corruption, the flavour of the season became corruption.

India just does not have enough judges. The country currently has about 12 judges for every million people. It needs at least five times as many judges Today, the flavour is rape and sexual assault. Look at the anti-corruption courts today. They have very few cases and many of them often involve petty instances of corruption. And who suffers because of this? Those involved in cases that haven’t been fast-tracked.”

On any given day, there are at least 20 cases listed for argument at a sessions court. An efficient court can accord about five of these a hearing on a good day. After one hearing, the case doesn’t come up for another 15 days or even a month. In comparison, a fast track court hears about three cases daily, and each case is sometimes heard on a daily basis.

A

ccording to some lawyers, the qual-

ity of judgments issued by fast track courts is questionable. Gonzalves, for example, says these courts are “not a satisfactory system for delivering justice”.

He explains: “These courts are given un-

realistic targets of cases to finish. They are told not to get involved in too much technicality. But that’s not how the criminal justice system works. It requires care and attention.”

One specific case that has been discussed in legal circles is the first that Dwarka’s fast track court judged in January this year. The accused, a farmhouse guard, was held guilty of the rape and murder of a three-year-old girl in 2011. The trial was completed within 10 days and the accused handed a death sentence. “The accused, in all probability, was guilty and the correct sentence was handed out,” says Adeeb, “But I can’t understand how a rape trial can take only 10 days. How can one hear both sides, examine the evidence and issue a judgment within that timeframe?”

While it is too early to judge the judgments of Delhi’s fast track courts on the whole, lawyers argue that in other states, a notably large fraction of the decisions of fast track courts have been overturned by higher courts on appeal. “I have heard of seven and eight day trials in Rajasthan’s fast track courts,” says John, “These decisions are celebrated as though it’s a great achievement. A few years or months later, when appealed in a higher court, these decisions get overturned. Why? Because they have been conducted in haste, without proper examination of evidence.”

Appallingly, statistics now appear to be guiding a process that is supposed to be dedicated only to the truth. “There is tremendous pressure these days from people and the media,” observes Gonzalves, “I have heard many retired judges tell current ones undergoing training to increase their conviction records. This is a terrifying suggestion. What about that salient feature which says a person is to be convicted if and only when his guilt is proven beyond reasonable doubt?”

That is a question ignored by those baying for instant justice without an informed appreciation of the due process of law, a process that must ensure that an innocent person is not wrongly punished. “I am sure the correct judgment was made in the Delhi gang-rape case,” says Gonzalves, “After all, there was so much attention on it. But we still need to be careful that these fast track courts don’t serve fast track injustice.” n 14 October 2013

I N T E RV I E W

‘An Actor Should be Exclusive’ Nawazuddin Siddiqui in conversation with Chinki Sinha, as part of Open’s monthly Breakfast Chat series

When you became an actor, who was the first person you wanted to tell? You had mentioned this girl who wouldn’t stop to speak to you because she had to catch a television serial…

This was when TV first came to our village—Budhana in Muzzaffarnagar, UP, where I grew up. There weren’t many television sets and most people would go to someone’s house to watch serials or films. She did too. She lived in our neighbourhood, and one day I thought I should stop her and ask. When I got a small role in a TV serial, I asked a friend to tell her.

But he said she was married to a maulana and had six children.

Did you ever meet her?

I still feel I should. When I go to the village, I feel like looking for her. But I have not met her yet.

The Lunchbox is out, and you have always maintained you are the ‘leading man’...

I signed up for Lunchbox before Gangs of Wasseypur. It should have gone to the Oscars. It is a good film. It was shown at Cannes. The response was good.

You built a house for your parents. Was it a promise?

They are farmers and there was never any money for extras. When I got some money, I built them a house. Water used to drip from the ceiling, but Abbu didn’t have money for repairs. If there was a drought, there would be no income because the crop had failed.

Does you mother watch your films?

She only cares about my image, wants to see me in good clothes, look good.

You once acted in a Joginder film…

I was struggling those days. He made films like Bindiya Maange Bandook. One day, I was sitting outside his office and I could hear someone getting beaten up.

Then a man walked out, and said he used to be the set designer. I asked why he was beaten up, and he said, “I’d asked him for ashish sharma

14 October 2013

a raise.” I was asked to go in next, but I ran away. Yes, I once did a film with him.

There was a scene in which I had to stand behind the dacoit… that was it.

Tell us about your struggle to make it in films

All theatre actors struggle. You really want to act—that’s what drives you.

But there is no money. You can drag this out for five-six years because there is this junoon (passion). And then you go to Bombay to start all over again.

Was the struggle worth it? Was any part of it enjoyable?

Not when I was struggling. We glorify the past. When I look back, I look back with nostalgia. In those days, to make a call, I’d have to walk miles. There were times when I wanted to give up, but I was ashamed of admitting defeat. At first, there is frustration, then comes depression, and then nothing happens. You get used to it. Nothing affects you.

Tell us about method acting

Our films have one-dimensional characters. We operate on set formulas. For that, you need no training. We don’t have layers in acting, nor in our characters. A hero needs to do certain things. For that, you don’t have to work hard; it’s formula acting. That is what our stars are made of.

How did you land the role of Faisal Khan?

I was surprised when I saw the script.

Anurag had told me long ago, when he too was struggling, that he would give me a role. I had been doing small roles, getting beaten up in most scenes. So, in the last scene of Gangs of Wasseypur 2, when I got the gun in my hand, I gave vent to all the pent-up frustration. So far, I had been the one getting beaten up.

You recently went to Paris. Was it to relax?

I had been working non-stop for five-odd years. I had become like a zombie. So I took a break, switched off the phone and went to Paris.

You have essayed varied roles, including one where you play a eunuch (in Venod Mitra’s Meridien Lines).

I’ve been lucky to work with some very interesting directors, who break from regular methods. Like in Patang, we 14 October 2013

were not given set dialogue. It was an unusual setup. We were made to sit for hours. Generally, you swing into an ‘acting mode’, but the director [of Patang] didn’t want it like that. We didn’t know when to start. We sat, spoke, drank water, made coffee, and the scenes came out looking natural. We soon got the essence and that’s how we did it. It was beautiful.

Or in Liar’s Dice [currently being shown at film festivals], there is a woman looking for her husband. She has a child with her and a goat. I play the role of a runaway soldier and the film is near the border. I meet her and I am a bad man and I ask her for money. We travel to Shimla and then to Delhi. That’s where the film ends. It’s a love story. In the end, the man is gambling and realises the woman’s husband is dead. The heroine watches him play a game of dice, and wonders if she can spend her life with him.

Or in Buddhadeb Dasgupta’s film, Anwar Ka Ajab Kissa, where the man speaks to the dog, tells the dog everything. There is a lot of dialogue. The director and I discussed this for hours, and we agreed that I shouldn’t memorise my lines. The camera rolled, and I started talking to the dog. These devices make acting fun; else it would be the same old formulas, the same clichéd acting.

How did you train the dog?

That, we must ask the dog.

You were brilliant in Bypass (a silent film).

How did you manage?

There is a sequence [in Bypass] where I have to thrust a knife into someone.

I was focused on facial expression, but [producer] Asif Kapadia said there shouldn’t be any signs of pressure on the face. That was a good thing he said.

Generally, you would try to convey the emotion through [facial] expression. But then you are trying too hard. When you stab someone, the force is in your hand, not your face. For me, this was a great lesson in acting.

Our cinema is all about externals. It relies too much on facial expressions and dialogue. Bypass taught me that if there was something running through your mind, you didn’t need to show it with your eyes or facial expressions.

Everything comes out. It shows; you just need to feel it.

You have worked with many good actors.

Were you ever nervous?

With good actors, it is always good. You react to their acting and things are spontaneous. You take cues from each other and the equation is interesting.

You have said you don’t listen to music, you only listen to background scores…

I listen to background scores because there is room for imagination there.

With voice, there are limits—you can’t dream, the scope is defined by the words.

Where are you headed? Have you ever thought about your shelf life?

An actor must explore everything, but not illogical stuff. Like I will dance, but only if it makes sense [in the context]. I danced in Dev D, Emotional Atyachar...

Anurag once said, ‘If you look at him (meaning you) long enough, you will find him beautiful’. He said, in Cannes, women were falling all over you.

He is mad. I didn’t see anyone falling anywhere. My brother puts my photos on Facebook. I like getting photographed. Maybe there is some frustration somewhere. There is always the desire to look good, to be photographed.

Whatever roles I have done, there was a desire to do other things. Like wearing nice clothes. Or that fashion show I did for Troy Costa…

You don’t do ads. Why?

An actor should be exclusive. I may start doing ads some day, but not yet. I don’t want money. Or I could have opened a sugar mill in UP. Desire has no limits. I don’t want to get into that trap.

What do you enjoy more: theatre or films?

I like films. In theatre, you have to ‘tell’ everything. In films, even a small gesture can be telling. The camera explores you.

What happens when you now go to your village? You are a public figure. Does it restrict your freedom?

I used to go to my village to relax. I’d come back renewed. But it has all changed.

Now, they may barge in when I am sleeping and command me to get photographed with them. These are bonds you grow up with. If they say ‘Bend’, you do it… you can’t refuse. n open www.openthemagazine.com 29

The man who ruthlessly runs the kingdom of the BCCI Anjali Doshi

I

f you have not heard of Sundar

Raman, it is not entirely because he wanted it that way.

The IPL chief operating officer has close to 170,000 Twitter followers, and tweets regularly, except when cricket fans would really like to hear from him— such as during the spot-fixing scandal, when his only posts as the horror unravelled and arrests followed interrogations were ‘statement soon’ and ‘#idiots’.

There is nothing to suggest, at least in his online presence, that the boss of the $3.3 billion League is a number-crunching nerd. You may reckon instead that he has spiritual aspirations (his Twitter and Facebook photos have him smiling beatifically alongside the Dalai Lama); cares for issues that affect India (‘RIP Nirbhaya’); and is not averse to cracking bad jokes. After Australian cricketer Shane Watson played a typically destructive innings for the Rajasthan Royals, Raman posted: ‘On Mother’s Day, his mom must be saying watta son.’

In keeping with the freakish control the BCCI exerts over all its associates, especially in the choleric regime of Board president N Srinivasan, interviews featuring Raman, 41, are scarce—apart from a handful of pink paper reports projecting the IPL’s year-on-year growth.

But go back three years and you might chance upon gems like this in a YouTube fun feed interview. Asked by a buxom young anchor in a short dress to pick a favourite IPL team, Raman replies: “I have to be neutral. My heart beats for all eight teams—and faster when I’m with you.”

The truth is that, while the BCCI’s office-bearers spend most of their time working out how to cling to power— all in the interests of Indian cricket, of course—Raman is the only man at the BCCI who has all the power without 30 open

POW ER C E N TRE

Who Is Sundar Raman? a post. Paradoxically, perhaps, this makes perfect sense: freed from the stresses of having to hang on to his office, he can get on with the real business of making money.

Described as obnoxious, tactless, brusque, arrogant, untrustworthy, chauvinistic and vindictive by people who know him, Raman possesses an elusive digital footprint that would barely suggest he is among the world’s most influential cricket administrators. In fact, there is a good case for saying he is the most influential.

T

he spotlight over the past few years has been on powerful and seen-to-be-powerful officials like N Srinivasan, Lalit Modi, Sharad Pawar and Jagmohan Dalmiya. But since the exit of Modi, his former boss, in 2010, Raman has been the man taking the key decisions: negotiating and signing off with cricket boards on the T&Cs of bilateral tours, dealing with sponsors, broadcasters and the media to ensure the Board squeezes out every last dollar’s worth, and exercising the 21st century right of any self-respecting BCCI official—show14 October 2013

mark dadswell-gcv/getty images

TOUCH ARTISTE Raman is reputedly the man who strikes all those multimillion-dollar deals to maximise the BCCI’s advantage

ing the ICC who is in charge.

Is the bitter dispute with Cricket South Africa—leading to India holding off on its scheduled visit later this year—revenge for CSA appointing BCCI bête noire Haroon Lorgat as CEO or a calculated decision to keep commercial partners at home happy?

Is the row with Sky TV last year—after the BCCI had asked the broadcaster to cough up Rs 4 crore for a box at the grounds— revenge for Sky commentator Nasser Hussain’s anti-BCCI comments when India toured England in 2011 or 14 October 2013

the Board milking every possible source of revenue?

Is the ban on Getty payback for the agency’s use of Indian cricket photos for commercial rather than editorial purposes, or the Board playing guard dog to precious property?

Is ignoring the ICC’s future tours programme a deliberate show of contempt for a toothless tiger, or a cold-hearted commercial move?

Whichever way you look at it, there is no doubt that the BCCI’s main preoccupation is flexing its muscle.

And it is hardly a coincidence that Raman, a man with formidable experience in media and sponsorship, has been on the frontline of all these parleys, including the BCCI’s recent Rs 3,851 crore deal with Rupert Murdoch’s Star network and the Rs 400 crore contract with Pepsi for the IPL title sponsorship.

No wonder, then, that Raman was swiftly inducted, at Srinivasan’s behest, into the ICC’s recently formed commercial working group and its domestic Twenty20 sub-committee. For every $100 million the ICC makes, the BCCI gets $7.5 million. But the Board believes India generates at least 60 per cent of the total, if not 80.

Raman is there thanks precisely to his talent for generating money and redistributing the wealth to ensure the BCCI capitalises not only on India’s strength, but also on the weakness of the other nine full-member nations of the ICC. “In its post-Modi phase, the Board has just one man with the smarts to make the moolah and exploit India’s position,” says a commercial partner of the BCCI. “Srinivasan is too busy managing his business and playing Board politics, and the rest would not know a multimillion dollar sponsorship deal if it hit them in the face. The real work is done by Sundar.”

While Srinivasan holds forth at ICC board meetings, Raman—jokingly referred to as a ‘non-state actor’ in international cricketing circles—is often spotted waiting outside the boardroom, working furiously on his iPad, taking breaks only to brief the BCCI president when he steps out from time to time.

“Sundar is feared rather than respected,” says a former ICC official.

It is remarkable how a man once accused by the BCCI of shielding Modi— open www.openthemagazine.com 31

now banned for life by the board—has found favour as trusted executive and star player in the current regime. The irony prompted this Twitter invective from Modi during the IPL fixing saga: ‘Get your house in order. Stop being a yes man. Be a man for once @ramansundar’ and ‘What role does @ramansundar an iplemployee have in Icc and Bcci? Can anyone deny he runs boards for his master n Srinivasan.’

No, there is no denying that Sundar Raman is the power behind the throne.

H

ow did a man who was once considered Modi’s lackey rise to such eminence? This is the question many in world cricket are asking, as top bosses of national boards bend backwards to please him.

“Sundar turned to the other side to save his skin,” Modi, ex-IPL chairman and commissioner, told Open. Referring to Raman’s Tamil Brahmin ethnicity and Chennai connection, Modi said: “He speaks the same language as Srini, is from the same community and has a similar background.” Their shared loved for golf does not hurt either (sources insist Srinivasan is the better golfer).

“He’s always been a very bright and ambitious guy,” says an ex-colleague who has known Raman since the late 1990s. “Now, he’s street-smart too.

Moving from the professionalism of corporate culture to the bureaucracy of the BCCI, and not just surviving but thriving, is proof of that.”

Recruited as IPL chief executive after he made an impressive power-point presentation during a chance meeting with Modi in January 2008, Raman was then managing director at MindShare India—a division of the world’s largest global media agency. He hopped aboard the IPL gravy train a month later, with an annual package of around Rs 1 crore, and navigated its launch that April.

Before he joined the IPL, Raman, an IIM reject, had made a career as one of the country’s most aggressive media buyers for blue-chip multinationals like Pepsi, Unilever, Samsung and Motorola.

“If Lalit was the brains and the visionary behind the IPL, Sundar was the guy executing this vision,” says Sneha Rajani, senior executive vice-president and 32 open

business head, Sony Entertainment Television, which holds the IPL rights.

“I’ve seen his work for Pepsi even before he joined the IPL. He’s a fantastic media planner.”

A cricket buff since his schooldays in Trichy, Raman aspired to be an engineer, but settled for a degree in applied sciences when he failed to make the cut. A postgrad management degree in advertising and communications followed and in 1995 he was set for the ruthless life of media planning.

But his fascination with cricket persisted, even though he was rapidly climbing the corporate ladder. In 2004, Raman auditioned for Harsha Ki Khoj, a popular reality show conceptualised by ESPN to find the next Harsha Bhogle. “He had the knowledge but his screen presence and delivery were not great,” says an industry insider.

It is remarkable how a man once accused by the BCCI of shielding Lalit Modi has found favour as trusted executive and star player in the current regime Now in charge of finalising the commentary team for all cricket played in India, Raman is the guy doling out the paycheques to Bhogle and the rest. And firing those, most recently Danny Morrison and HD Ackerman, who do not follow the BCCI diktat of keeping quiet on controversial issues like the fixing scandal, the decision review system (DRS), team selection, and future India captains (the present incumbent, MS Dhoni, is close to Srinivasan and Raman).

Often accused of throwing his weight around, Raman has no qualms about denying match accreditation to media who run anti-BCCI stories; accusing ex-ICC CEO Lorgat of nepotism in what was described by an insider as the “most unpleasant meeting in ICC history”; or clashing with Mumbai Indians owner Nita Ambani, who presumably is not used to being told what to do.

“Several IPL teams are not happy dealing with him,” says a senior BCCI func-

tionary. “His biggest problem is that he is very arrogant and has no people skills.”

O

ne can hardly blame him. Arrogance defines the BCCI of today. And the sense of entitlement with which the Board operates now is in distinct contrast to the days, not so long ago, when bungling officials signed commercial agreements without reading them.

With the new commercial rights for all ICC events between 2015 and 2023 up for grabs, member nations are meant to sign a participation agreement. The BCCI, however, has threatened it will not unless it is given a much larger share of the ICC pie and the DRS is scrapped.

In an ominous sign that the IPL is staging a takeover of world cricket, the Board headquarters at Mumbai’s Wankhede Stadium has witnessed a dramatic shift from the BCCI office on the second floor to the IPL office on the fourth.

No surprises there: the IPL is the BCCI’s most valuable property by a distance.

And when you consider that the BCCI is more powerful than the ICC and all the other national boards put together, it is not an exaggeration to say Raman is the de facto CEO of international cricket.

If, as sources in the BCCI reveal, the Board’s goal is to make cricket a onecountry sport, the IPL has paved the way.

Taken to its logical extreme, the argument threatens the very existence of India’s national team; there may be no other team left in the fray.

Not content with just a two-month IPL and a three-week Champions League, IPL franchise owners are pushing for more cricket. Perhaps a mini-IPL. ‘The franchise owners might even consider going it alone: they are already claiming a bigger role in running the tournament.

Rather than risk that happening, the Indian board would probably bend to their demands, to the great detriment of international cricket,’ James Astill recently wrote in The Great Tamasha: Cricket, Corruption and the Spectacular Rise of Modern India. ‘India, a country that has so enriched cricket, is now the gravest threat to its most precious traditions.’

Let there be no doubt that it all began with the IPL in 2008, and the unflinching business acumen of Lalit Modi—and, of course, Sundar Raman. n 14 October 2013

o u t r e ac h

Emerging Readership Rural library initiatives take books to children who had no access to them ANURADHA NAGARAJ Hassan/Chamrajnagar

“O

nce upon a time there was

books to him, encourage him to try and read himself. Today, he can read and he is one of the best storytellers in school. And like all the other children, he eagerly waits for Chandrakala’s visit every week.”

It’s been six years since Chandrakala started carrying the world of stories in a small plastic bag. Twice a week, she steps out of her hut overlooking the catchment area of the Gorur dam, walks past her corn fields, down a mud track and then another couple of kilometres to reach Vadarahally government school. She waits in the corridor outside the classes for the children to gather. And then she

carefully takes the 25-odd books out of her bag and places them on the floor.

There is an instant scramble among the children to lay hands on a book of their choice. In a few minutes, it is replaced by the buzz of reading—a steady sound of words merging into sentences and then the unfolding of a story. Some pause as they reach an unfamiliar word, some flip through the pages, stopping only to look at the colourful pictures, but nobody looks up from their books.

For an hour, twice a week, ‘Chandrakala miss’ transports 39 children from this small school to an unknown world of photos vivek muthuramalingam

a superman,” hesitantly begins Vishwas, a class seven student at Vadarahally government middle school in Hassan district. He then goes on for five minutes, slowly gaining confidence as he tells the story of how the “good superman defeats the bad superman”. It’s his version of the superhero’s story and it isn’t very long. But at the end of it, he gets a round of applause, the loudest from his librarian Chandrakala.

“He couldn’t read a single word when he came to us in class five,” whispers a teacher. “Chandrakala would read story-

grow by reading Children during a library session at Government Lower Primary School, Chikkabegur village, in south Karnataka

adventure, fantasy, kings and queens, forests with animals most haven’t seen and landscapes unheard of.

A student preparing for her BEd exams, Chandrakala joins the children—sometimes listening, sometimes reading aloud to them. “When I was growing up, I did not know what a storybook was,” she says. “All the books I ever read were school-related. As I grew up, I read books on general knowledge, the odd biography but never, ever a storybook. Now I read, just like the children. And the best thing is sometimes I just read—not necessarily to prepare for an exam.”

The youngest of four daughters, Chandrakala is one of eight volunteer librarians in Hassan district, 180-odd kilometres from Bangalore, who take books to children across this region of Karnataka. They start by taking a bus once a week to Gorur, where in an ancestral home more than 100 years old, there are two almirahs full of books.

“This is Hema Srinivasan’s home,” says Kala, who is in charge of the library programme being run by Srinivasan’s Saranga Trust. “Nobody lives here anymore; only the books. Every weekend, the volunteers come and exchange their set of books, choosing a new set from the nearly 3,000 books we have here. Some run the libraries from their homes, oth-

ers from the premises of the government schools in their villages. The children sometimes take them home to read and some even read to their parents.”

Under the light of a naked bulb, Kala opens the doors of the almirahs that stock mostly bilingual books, besides a neatly bound bundle of Tinkle comics, fairy tales and a whole lot of colouring material.

Each is neatly marked with a green, red, orange or white sticker to indicate various reading levels. Once a week, these books travel out of Srinivasan’s house and into the homes of the children in the eight villages where this programme runs. The programme is based on a lowcost model to run libraries developed in Bangalore in the early 2000s.

I

n 1999, IIT Chennai alumnus Umesh

Malhotra decided to quit his job in the United States and come back to India. His five-year-old son wasn’t very keen because he said there was no library in Bangalore. “He was a member of this beautiful library in the Bay Area in California, and to get him to move to India we promised him a library here, and that’s where we began,” says the founder and CEO of the Hippocampus learning centres in Bangalore, who has created one of the most widely used tem-

plates to run low cost libraries successfully in the country.

Malhotra points out that, unlike anywhere else in the world, libraries in India are mandated by the Government in all their schools. He describes it as “a beautifully broken system”, where the booklist comprises of biographies and general knowledge books and the library is locked up inside a trunk.

Srinivasan adds: “When we started volunteering with government schools in Bangalore around 2005, we realised that reading skills were non-existent, even in Class 7, despite the fact that there were reading programmes running in these schools.”

The 2013 Annual Status of Education Report (ASER) states that in 2010, across the country 46.3 per cent of all children in Class 5 could not read a Class 2 level text. This proportion has increased to 51.8 per cent in 2011 and further to 53.2 per cent in 2012. Also, for Class 5 children enrolled in government schools, the percentage of children unable to read Class 2 level text has increased from 49.3 per cent in 2010, to 56.2 per cent in 2011, to 58.3 per cent in 2012.

It was against the backdrop of similar statistics that various library programmes began in various places.

In 2003, after the Malhotras set up the

helping hand Chandrakala, a volunteer librarian, packs a set of books before she leaves for Vadarahally government middle school in Hassan district

library they had promised their son in Bangalore, they decided to look at creating similar library facilities elsewhere in the state. By 2005 they had 38 libraries running in partnership with various non-governmental organisations in and around Bangalore.

“But there was zero impact,” Malhotra recalls. “We had these beautiful libraries, stacked with amazing books but the system was not working. Children were coming into the libraries but nobody was picking up a book and reading. The children were confused and unsure in the library space because they didn’t know how to find a book they could read.” So they went back to the drawing board and came up with the ‘Grow by Reading’ library programme.

Shaifali, the programme manager at Hippocampus, is normally armed with two bags and five books when she does a training programme on how to run a low cost library with a one-time investment of Rs 5,000. “We start out by explaining to librarians how to assign levels to books, starting from green for single sentence books to yellow for novels,” she says, swiftly going through the training material in her bags. “We insist they also grade the children that come to their libraries and ensure that they get the books they can comprehend. Library cards are made and the reading progress of a child is monitored through a very simple data sheet.”

As part of the programme, each librarian is also given a booklist from which they can pick multilingual books, complete with the contacts of publishers. A set of three activities in five languages was also created for each story book in the green and red (three to four sentences) category to gauge if a child was comprehending what he or she was reading.

Slowly, the system has come to life and is being used as a base by numerous organisations across the country, including the global Room to Read programme, to set up libraries.

S

owmyashree, a Class 5 student

at a government lower primary school in Chikkabegur village in south Karnataka’s Chamrajnagar district, got access to her first storybook in 2012 under the Grow by Reading programme supported by Mobility India. Since then, she

14 October 2013

has read five books and shyly says that Tenali Raman is her favourite. Most of her friends love books with animals in them or those with a grandfather and grandmother. One of the most popular books across some of these schools is the story of a polar bear. The thought of snow and the description of a polar bear’s habitat is a conversation starter across schools here, where a group of children are trained to run the libraries themselves.

“It’s the best thing that could have happened to these children,” says HP Siddharaju, headmaster of a government higher primary school in nearby Arralikatai village. “Now in the evenings, instead of running wild and staying out till late at night, the village children, including those who don’t study in this school, come to the library. The access to good reading material gives them access to the world of reading and it has impacted their performance in school also.”

The Akshara Foundation first started

As in Chamrajnagar, in Ujjain and Hoshangabad children are trained to run their own libraries. And they also undertake bookrelated activities its reading programme in 2006 in government schools in Bangalore urban district.

It began by redefining what a library meant. “The library is not just about borrowing books; we wanted it to be a multifunctional space linked to classroom learning,” explains Ashok Kamath, chairman of the foundation.

Akshara started by creating simple laminated reading cards that a child could also take home. Like Hippocampus, it developed library-related activities, got storytellers to spin yarns for the children and at the end of five years achieved “significant results”.

“Between the first phase of the programme and a follow through the mopup phase, nearly 86 per cent of the children were converted to ‘reader’ category, [having] acquired the ability to read unknown sentences or paragraphs,” says Kamath, adding that most of the libraries have now been handed back to the gov-

ernment to run.

Similar success stories are to be found in other parts of the country, too. In Ladakh, the 17,000 ft Foundation takes books to nearly 100 schools, some with just a handful of students.

In Madhya Pradesh, Deepali Verma of the non-governmental organisation Eklavya has been working on making the learning process more ‘rauchak’ for children. In 2010, it opened its first pustakalay. Today, in nearly 50 school premises across Ujjain and Hoshangabad, “visible changes in children with access to books have been recorded”.

“We started by letting children touch and feel books, something school teachers didn’t encourage because of their fear of damaging books,” says Verma in a telephone conversation. “We made schools open their trunks and gave children our stock of books. Initially, we lost a few books, some were torn, but once the children realised it was for them, they treated them like a prized possession.”

As in Chamrajnagar, in Ujjain and Hoshangabad children are trained to run their own libraries. And they also do numerous book-related activities. “One of their favourites is when we make a character disappear from a storybook and then ask them to recreate the story without that character,” says Verma. “Slowly, children are interpreting stories, asking hundreds of questions and using them for school projects and drama.”

In the Gorur library, a beautifully illustrated book telling the classic tale of Beauty and the Beast is very popular.

Nobody in that school can really read the book, but everyone is fascinated by the illustrations. In a corner of the school library, which operates in a large room with wooden cupboards stacked with dusty, curriculum-related books, a little boy sits on a bench and draws the beast in his art book. As he colours it, girls peer over his shoulder to see the gown the girl in the illustration is wearing.

Rumpelstiltskin, Goldilocks, Dr Seuss and Disney stories jostle for space with vernacular books on the open shelves of this library. Many of the books are donated and many are untouched. But librarian Kala is confident that one day, eager hands will reach out for one of the “English books with beautiful pictures” and read a story no one here has read before. n open www.openthemagazine.com 35

t ê t e- à -t ê t e

Out of the Dabba Acting, according to Nimrat Kaur of The Lunchbox fame, is a lie well told AKSHAY SAWAI

T

he Nimrat Kaur who walks brisk-

ly into Pali Village Café in Bandra on a recent Wednesday evening is expectedly different from the Nimrat Kaur who sits anxiously at Koolar & Co Irani Restaurant in The Lunchbox. That Nimrat, as Ila, is unhappy in her circumstances and too burdened by them to take care of her appearance. The Nimrat at Pali Village Café, on the other hand, is a woman enjoying the best phase of her life so far. She is also decidedly glamorous.

Kaur does not need advice on how to look pretty. She has been in showbiz since 2004, doing music videos, commercials and theatre. But it is tempting to imagine her getting fashion tips from Mrs Deshpande, Ila’s chatty upstairs neighbour in The Lunchbox.

“Interview pe jaa rahi hai?” (Going for the interview?)

“Haan aunty.”

“Leave your hair open. Wear the beige singlet from Mango, and the H&M skirt, and the black jacket you bought at a flea market in Brooklyn.”

“It’s called a throw-on, aunty.”

“Wahi, wahi” (That’s the one.)

In addition, she wears uncut diamond earrings presented to her by her mother, Avinash Kaur, and an IWC Pilot’s Watch Chronograph. By way of perfume, there is Classique by Gaultier, which 36 open

comes in a curvy bottle shaped like a woman’s torso.

The Lunchbox is not a film without blemish. There should be at least one exchange between Ila and her husband Rajeev before she takes a decision about their future. It also needs one scene explaining how Rajeev goes day after day eating the wrong lunch. Perhaps the message is that he doesn’t care. But it seems unrealistic that he does not realise he is eating food cooked in a canteen.

These, however, are minor flaws. For the most part, The Lunchbox is that rare Hindi film worth its hype. Its central female character Ila is essayed with sincerity and control by Kaur. Votaries of loud films will say that over-the-top is harder to do than subtlety. But it is about what’s better, not tougher.

“It has turned out to be much more than a film. It’s a gift wrapped with a bow. I’ve got so much love,” Kaur says, depositing the Trident gum she’s been chewing into a white tissue when her cold coffee arrives. Music from the Paris Café and Gypsy Jazz channels on Jazzradio.com plays in the background.

Kaur is pally and unaffected. She laughs a lot and slips into conversational Hindi from time to time. “I didn’t expect the film to do so well at a commercial level.

There are perceptions people have.

Make-up nahin hai yaar, sad lag rahi

hai, art film lag rahi hai (There’s no makeup, pal, it looks sad, it looks arty). It takes a lot to get people to the theatres. But it can happen.”

T

hough Kaur’s life is happier than Ila’s, she has known pain. On the morning of 17 January 1994 in Verinag, Kashmir, Kaur’s father, Major Bhupender Singh, left home for work. It was the last time his wife and daughters— Nimrat and her sister Rubina—would see him. He was abducted and killed six days later by the Hizb-ul-Mujahideen.

That year on 13 March, Kaur’s birthday, he was posthumously awarded India’s Shaurya Chakra.

14 October 2013

ritesh uttamchandani

pretty cool Kaur says she did not go to producers or directors to ask for assignments.

“I did not subscribe to that mentality”

“I still haven’t gotten over his loss,” Kaur says. “In fact, it gets worse—also because it was so violent. He was very invested in me. He’d write my debates, for example. I still feel his blessings.”

Asked if the experience reflects in her work, she says, “I don’t let it. It’s something very private.”

While her father was alive, the family lived in many places in India. “Arunachal Pradesh, Rajasthan, Patiala, Bhatinda, Pune and finally Kashmir,” Kaur says.

She changed schools six or seven times.

After her father’s death, the family moved to Noida, where her grandparents lived. Kaur finished schooling and later went to Delhi’s Shri Ram College of Commerce. She says she has enjoyed per14 October 2013

forming ever since she was a child. “I liked to make up stories, the ability to lie and create a reaction. That is acting. It is a lie well told.”

In 2004, she came to Mumbai to become an actress. Asked if she had a fallback option, she says ‘no’. “I did Science in school, Commerce in college, but nothing resonated with me as much as acting,” she says. Finding work was not easy. She got her first commercial, for Asian Paints, after some 80 auditions.

But a little while before that she featured in a music video for the song Tera Mera Pyaar by Kumar Sanu. “That set the ball rolling. I got a lot of ad films.” Around 2009, she started doing theatre. “That gave me acting experience. With com-

mercials, I knew how to look pretty. I knew how the camera worked. But I didn’t know the real work that well. That came from theatre.”

Kaur says she did not go to producers or directors to ask for assignments. “I did not subscribe to that mentality.”

When told she is lucky to have still done alright, she reveals an ambivalence about attributing things to luck. “Kehne ko sab luck hai, kehne ko luck nahin hai (You could say it’s all luck, or you could say it isn’t). But I will tell you where I was lucky. I was lucky not to have been born ten years earlier.”

“There was a time when work for women was very limited. It was either this or that. There were very few actresses that open www.openthemagazine.com 37

could walk the thin line. Now I can get work with who I am, with the way I look.

There are gorgeous women around. Look at a Nargis Fakhri. She is stunning. I love her. But there is a much more systematic approach now. I don’t know if a Lunchbox or Peddlers [last year’s much-appreciated indie, which also featured Kaur] would have been possible ten years ago.”

I

n all of The Lunchbox Kaur wears as many outfits as a mainstream heroine would in a single song. “Six ill-fitting salwar kameezes, no make-up.” She stopped threading her eyebrows, stopped running the 6-7 km she runs on Juhu beach and did not even wash her hair regularly.

Asked if she felt worried about exposing herself, warts and all, to the world, she says, “I think there is beauty in flaws, yaar. The idea of beauty needs to be redefined. It’s also about characterisation. I had to look loveless, neglected, beaten down by life, but not dead. I know for a fact [that] a disconnect happens when you are a viewer and you see a film in which a gorgeous woman in expensive clothes is placed in a really poor household. You think, ‘Okay, she looks stunning, but she looks too rich to be in this house’.”

These are objective observations and not digs at commercial cinema. In fact, she likes commercial cinema. “I loved Yeh Jawaani Hain Deewani. That’s commercial cinema. It has to be sensible. It has to be fun.” Perhaps she has a message for mainstream directors when she says, “And it’s not like I haven’t done that kind of work. I have done all kinds of roles in theatre.” She also played a small part in the profoundly titled Luv Shuv tey Chicken Khurana.

Asked if she will do an item number, she looks taken aback. “I don’t know. But I believe there is a spectrum even within item numbers. There are different kinds of item numbers.” I tell her that while that may be so, everyone knows that item numbers are mainly for...

“Titillation,” she says, completing the sentence. “It’s a dilemma,” she adds, “and these decisions are often instinctive. I still believe there are different types of item songs. I will cross that bridge when I come to it. But I’m not repulsed by everything I see [in item sequences].”

38 open

Surprisingly for someone who always liked performing, Kaur did not watch a lot of films growing up. But the two actresses she says she enjoyed watching are both commercial cinema stars: Madhuri Dixit and Sridevi. “I used to love Madhuri. As girls you don’t like heroes as much as heroines. You want to be them.

I grew up watching films like Dil, Beta. I loved Sridevi in Chaalbaaz, Mr India.”

Of the international firmament she likes Meryl Streep. “Meryl Streep has a fire you can’t get enough of. And she has done her share of films that you don’t expect her to be in. Ones that make you think ‘Why is she here?’ But she did them because she needed to do them at that point. I think, somewhere, you need to keep your life interesting as well.” She seems to relate to this approach. “A lot of good decisions and bad decisions have got me here. Just because my work now

On exposing oneself, warts and all, Kaur says, “I think there is beauty in flaws.

The idea of beauty needs to be redefined. It’s also about characterisation” is going to be public, it is not going to make me fear failure. If I do a film and am rubbish in it, it’s fine yaar, what’s the big deal? It’s just a career, not life.”

L

ife, meanwhile, is not bad at all for Kaur. I ask her about the whirligig of glamour, especially the Cannes Film Festival, which she has been attending for two years now. The mention of Cannes provokes an awed, stretched out “Ohhh.” Travel is her big poison. “I spend all my money on it.” Spain fascinates her but she knows France better and has enjoyed her time there. “I can go on about Cannes for hours,” she says, pointing to the voice recorder on the table.

“The first time I went there [as a Peddlers cast member], I was overwhelmed by the place. It was my first time in Europe.

Everything, right from the colour of the Mediterranean, was new. I could be awake all day and night and yet not have enough of it. The second time was when

Nawaz (Nawazuddin Siddique) and I travelled for The Lunchbox.”

Very animated now, looking like an exclamation mark sipping cold coffee, she narrates one story after another. She got locked out of her apartment, making her wistful about the neighbourhood chaabiwala (keysmith) in India. (“Where are those guys when you need them?”)

She had a pleasant conversation with a man who she later realised was acclaimed documentary maker Asif Kapadia, whose work she admires. (“What a guy! We’re still in touch.”) She saw a grinning Jean Dujardin fleeing photographers. Asked if she rubbed shoulders with any international stars, she jokes, “Ya, Brad and I…” She visited St Paul de Vence, a medieval French village on top of a mountain, home to the painter Marc Chagall, among others. She enjoyed the perks of the fest. “There is this VIP gift lounge at the Carlton Hotel. It’s like a two-bedroom suite. There are counters for clothes, accessories, shoes, perfume, you name it. You just have to say what you want and just pose with it, and that’s it, off you go with the stuff. You just need space in your luggage.”

But like any professional in any field, Kaur’s biggest high at Cannes came from the appreciation of her work. Charles Tesson, artistic director of the Critics Week at the Festival, gave her a glowing introduction before the screening of The Lunchbox. “It was all in French but it was something along the lines of modern-day (in an attempted French accent) ‘Charulata, Madhubala, Sharmila Tagore’. I tried hard not to giggle and [to be] be composed about it.”

The applause at the end of the screening was even more special, she says. “The film ends with the dabbawallahs song, [a Sant Tukaram bhajan], and the audience started clapping to that rhythm. It was deafening. There was a standing ovation.

We [the Lunchbox team] were just looking at each other.”

A favourite saying of Kaur’s is, “Samay se pehle aur bhaagya se zyaada, na kabhi kisi ko kuch mila hai, na milega (Before one’s time and more than one’s destiny, no one ever has nor ever will receive).”

Her own time surely seems to have come.

How much she will receive remains an open question. n 14 October 2013

photos courtesy local kung fu

d o i t yo u r s e l f

How to Make a Movie in Rs 95,000

Kenny Basumatary’s low-budget Assamese martial arts flick is being screened in theatres across India LHENDUP G BHUTIA

A

few months ago, authorities at

PVR Cinemas informed Kenny Basumatary that they would screen his indie Assamese production Local Kung Fu across the country, but he would have to redub the dialogue in Hindi. With no money to hire a recording studio in Mumbai for this purpose, he created his own. Using large thermocol sheets, reinforced by bed-sheets and held together with a framework of pipes, he created something of an acoustic box large enough for a person and a microphone to fit in.

“It wasn’t ideal,” Kenny’s brother Tony remembers, “but it kept out external noise to a large degree and retained most of what the person inside would say.”

For a few weeks, this box occupied the living room of the modest apartment he shares with his brother and sister-in-law in Malad, a distant suburb of Mumbai. Eventually, PVR authorities had a change of heart and 32-year-old Kenny did not have to employ his contraption.

Believing it would work best in its original language, they decided to screen it in Assamese itself.

The film released in Mumbai, Pune, Kolkata, Ahmedabad, Chennai, Delhi, Gurgaon and Guwahati on 27 September, becoming the second Assamese language film, after Jahnu Baruah’s Baandhon earlier this year, to have a release outside Assam. But what is striking about Local Kung Fu is how it was made. While Baandhon was made by the accomplished National Award-winning Baruah and produced by the state via Assam State Film Finance & Development Corporation on a budget of Rs 50 lakh, Local Kung Fu was made by a group of amateurs for exactly Rs 95,000.

A

bout four years ago, the film’s

lead actor, director, scriptwriter, producer, editor and sometimes cameraman Kenny Basumatary participated in a scriptwriting workshop in Mumbai called Sankalan. He had moved to Mumbai to push for a career in films, after having quit his job as a newsreader for an Assamese news channel, and,

14 October 2013

prior to that, having dropped out of IITDelhi, where he was pursuing computer engineering. The organisers of the scriptwriting workshop were to develop the top three scripts into films. His script for a martial arts-based film did not make it past the top six.

After this experience, he appeared in a number of commercials, TV soaps, and a few blink-and-miss roles in Bollywood films like Shanghai and Phata Poster Nikla Hero. He has a larger role in an upcoming Mary Kom biopic. Hoping that perhaps a producer would fancy adapting a book and hire him either as its scriptwriter or

one for all, all for one (Clockwise from facing page) Kenny Basumatary; a scene from Local Kung Fu; Utkal Hazowary, the film’s lead villain

director, he authored a book, Chocolate Guitar Momos, which was published by Westland in 2011.

“I came to realise that no producer was going to show up at my doorstep anytime soon. If I wanted to direct a film, I would have to put in my own money,” Kenny says. When he moved to Guwahati temporarily, his mother offered him Rs 60,000. With an additional Rs 35,000 open www.openthemagazine.com 41

that he had saved, he decided to make what he calls an ultra-low-budget film for the internet. “Before doing anything else, I sat down and calculated how much money I had and how much I could allocate to various departments,” he says.

The most expensive and important purchases, he knew, would be the camera equipment. A Canon 550D, which resembles a camera for still pictures ratherthan videos, cost him Rs 44,000. Additional costs included Rs 11,000 for a 55-250 mm lens, Rs 5,000 for a Rode VideoMic, and another Rs 7,000 for smaller purchases like memory cards, battery, filters, etcetera. “This left me with only Rs 28,000 for actors, props and whatever other expenditure,” he says.

To work around these limitations, he decided to shoot the film in Guwahati.

He approached his friends and family to act in the film for free. That way, he could also use their homes as sets. One of Kenny’s uncles, credited as ‘The Master’ in the film, was a martial arts instructor in Guwahati for over two decades. He could choreograph fight sequences and his students could act as fighters in the film. “I knew that my strong point was martial arts. So I decided to make a kung fu film with about six or seven fight sequences. I then wrote a story revolving around these fights.

What I had in mind was something like the old Jackie Chan films which did not rely on cables or elaborate stunts. Just simple and well-choreographed fight scenes,” he explains.

A

part from Kenny, who plays the

lead role, four of his cousins, two uncles, two aunts, his 80-plus grandfather, and his brother Tony are all part of the film’s acting cast. The others are mostly his uncle’s students. The highest paid actor in the film is its female protagonist, Sangeeta Nair. She was signed on for Rs 3,000. “One of my friends, who was also Kenny’s acquaintance, approached me for the film. I had missed many opportunities in the past because I was too lazy to try them out,” she says, not explaining what those opportunities were. “This time I thought I would at least audition for it.” A few days after the auditions, Nair, who then worked as a newsreader on an Assamese channel, got a call from 42 open

Kenny telling her she’d been cast.

To ensure that the fight scenes looked convincing, they were meticulously practised. A scene involving two people and six moves would be rehearsed for at least three mornings, three hours each.

Longer and more complicated fight scenes would require more practice. An additional Rs 2,000 was spent in purchasing various types of pads and guards to protect fighters from injuries.

However, this did not stop the film’s only mishap from occurring. In one scene, Kenny is to be beaten by a villain.

Both of them are to jump towards each other, and Kenny is to receive a kick on his chest mid-air. In the first take itself, Kenny received the kick on his inner right thigh, keeping him away from the shoot for over two weeks. After about 28 takes, they eventually perfected the scene. It turned out so well, he says, that they used it as the film poster’s lead visual.

The highest paid actor in the film is its female protagonist, Sangeeta Nair, a newsreader on an Assamese channel then.

She was paid Rs 3,000 In the initial stages, the biggest challenge, Kenny says, turned out to be technical. “Since I have never worked with cameras before, I didn’t know how to deal with highlight burnouts on sunny days, where some part of the frame would be bright but another part dark. I read up online and asked a few friends who worked as DoPs (Directors of Photography).

That’s how I learnt I needed to use Neutral Density filters. For quick-paced action scenes, I learnt through trial and error that I needed to use high shutter speeds,” Kenny says.

Nair proved invaluable not just for her acting but also her suggestions. One of the key effects Kenny wanted in the fight scenes was for puffs of dust to appear on impact whenever someone was kicked or punched. “Everyone does it in Bollywood and it looks good,” Kenny says. “But I trawled the internet, asked

friends, [and] nobody knew how to do that.” They tried rubbing their hands and sweaters in dust, immersing these items in talcum powder and chalk, but it didn’t generate the desired effect. Says Nair, “That’s when I asked them, ‘Have you tried multani mitti?’” None of the boys had heard of it. Multani mitti, or fuller’s earth, is a clay-like material used for face-packs to deal with acne and blemishes. It proved to be the ideal material.

Since most of the actors were either students or did other jobs, a crucial aspect of the process turned out to be coordinating schedules. “I kept a diary and I would note down each individual’s schedule.

Some would have school classes, guitar classes, and some would have day jobs.

So I would have to work out various combinations of schedules,” Kenny says.

Actors were encouraged to eat at home.

“Once when I reported to the set for a morning shoot without having had my breakfast, I was offered two boiled eggs,” Nair says.

The film was completed in 2011.

Kenny’s brother Tony, who works as a music arranger in Mumbai, composed a background score for the film, and Kenny edited the film by himself at home. He submitted it to a few festivals on a lark. One of the festivals to screen it was the 2012 Osian’s Cinefan Film Festival. Believing it to be commercially viable, Mumbai-based entrepreneur Durlov Baruah approached Kenny earlier this year with a plan to release it in theatres. Baruah has so far spent about Rs 2 lakh converting the film into digital format for PVR Cinemas and marketing it online.

During the shooting of the film, Tony fell in love with Nair. They have since gotten married and moved to Mumbai. In a bid to promote the film before its release, Kenny has moved to Guwahati to give interviews and arrange screenings.

Through various connections, he has also shown the film to well-known names like Anurag Kashyap, Dibakar Banerjee and Navdeep Singh. Some, like Mieyang Chang and Adil Hussain, have put up video testimonials for the film.

Meanwhile, Tony and Nair are holding forth in Mumbai. They expect to hold a press screening soon. “What happens at a press screening? Tony asks me. “Do you think I can learn about it online?” n 14 October 2013

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between the sheets

In Defence of the Quickie Who has the time for hour-long sessions anymore? sonali khan

I

t had been a month of teasing, torturing and crav-

ing. The boy and I had discussed changing our travel schedules to meet each other sooner than we’d earlier planned. Staying apart wasn’t easy. I’d be standing in line at Tesco, waiting to pay for my bottles of water, when suddenly, out of nowhere, my body and mind would decide they wanted him. Naturally, each thought and mental image would be texted to him. In ‘I’m-ripping-the-clothes-off-you- righthere-at-the-store’ detail. ‘That’s it, I’m booking my tickets right now,’ would be his agitated response. Then there were days when the sex was slower and more drawn-out. Friends would look at me, concerned, wondering why I was suddenly grinning stupidly. How do you explain a grin that is the result of a ‘When I finally see you again, I’m going to lock us up in a room for a whole day…’? For a man who couldn’t put it in words until a few weeks ago, he was doing fantastically. I’d taught him well.

Our sometimes hurried, sometimes languorous phone sex got me thinking about romantic sex and the quickie. I love romantic sex, of course. The unhurried all-night-long variety where the foreplay goes on and on and on, until one or both of you are screaming for release.

And then you go again. And again. And again. The kind that leaves visible reminders on your body. The kind that leaves your limbs aquiver at the thought of what transpired the previous night (or day). The kind that is so good that it makes you want to stop people on the road and tell them about it. The kind that most of us simply don’t have the time for.

Which brings me to the quickie. You’ve got to admit, there’s something distinctly sexy about wandering back into a party, hair dishevelled, dress just a tiny bit creased and a knowing smile on your swollen lips, while he trails you, shirt buttoned crookedly. Or turning up at work seconds before your first meeting for the day, just half an hour after you’ve pushed him against the door and had your wicked way with him.

But as far as relationships go, quickies have always been given a rap on the knuckles for being hurried, emotionless and made-for-male-pleasure. I get it. Growing up, every romantic account of lovemaking I read about oc-

curred in slow-motion. Clothes slid off shoulders painfully slowly, revealing only one tantalising inch at a time. Pages after pages were dedicated to touching and kissing and (if you were lucky enough to land a book with actual mention of oral sex) the pleasuring of the ‘velvet folds’. Science told us that women need 30 minutes of foreplay to get anywhere near an orgasm (which has always struck me as highly suspect research because, honestly, which woman has ever masturbated for that long?).

Naturally, the quick romp in the bed (or the bathroom, elevator, parking lot, sofa, office table—almost anywhere, really) was sidelined as belonging to the realm of strangers doing it in dark alleys and cheap motel-room sex. What Erica Jong called ‘the zipless fuck’. Like I said, I get it.

Or used to, at least.

Because who has the time for hourlong sessions, multiple times a week (forget multiple times a day) anymore?

Ever glanced at the alarm clock in the middle of sex and calculated exactly how many hours before it rings?

Nothing loses its appeal faster than an extended 69 when every extra minute is one less minute of sleep for spreadsheetweary eyes. The way I see it, I’d be having much less sex if it weren’t for the quickie. What’s not to love? It lets me get my beauty sleep, doesn’t make me late for work and is an incredible confidenceboost. How can you not believe in your sexiness when all he wants is you at your randiest—without a second’s thought to grooming, waxing and functional underwear?

Last week, the boy and I were finally in the same city again. True to his word, he switched off my phone and locked us in a room for a whole day. We made love till I literally (and I actually do mean literally) passed out in exhaustion. In the days since the grand reunion, there have been more quickies than I can count. There have been at least three your-parents-will-be-here-any-minute quickies, two we’re-late-for-the-movies and four I-can’t-waituntil-later quickies. And I enjoyed each and every one. n

An extended 69 loses its appeal if it means less sleep for spreadsheetweary eyes

44 open

Sonali Khan was holding on to her virtue, and then she fell in love...with several men.

She drinks whisky, not Cosmopolitan 14 October 2013

true Life

mindspace Snooker In a Slum

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O p e n s pa c e

Ranbir Kapoor Alia Bhatt

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n p lu

Prisoners Elysium

61 Cinema reviews

HP Envy Rove 20 Casio Edifice Watch Era-200 Nikon Coolpix S02

60

Tech & style

Testicles and Parenthood A New Genus of Electric Fish Toxis Childhood Stress

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Science

Zanjeer and the Writers’ Fight

52

cinema

An Artistic Avenger

50

a rt s

10 Judgements That Changed India

books

Laxatives for Dessert

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Milestones The Shah Bano judgment is one of ten discussed in Zia Mody’s book on India’s judicial journey 50

Gulati Hari Om/India Today Group

true life

peter dazeley/getty images

Laxatives for Dessert

Eating disorders like anorexia have become a real problem in India, among not just teenagers, but also girls as young as 12 Saru Gupta

N

ot all addictions are intakes.

People get addicted to substances; I, on the other hand, got addicted to the sight of my hideous body disappearing, inch by inch. I wanted to be perfect.

I was 45 kg, and promised myself that I would stop when I could count my ribs. But it was only when my weight fell to 37 kg and I found myself living on a diet of just water and an orange a day that I realised I had a problem.

How did this unrealistic idea of perfection, of the ‘ideal’ body, get framed in my mind? Well, isn’t it true that each time we open a newspaper or magazine, switch on the television or radio, the notion that ‘thinness equals happiness’ is drilled into us, creating discontent with ourselves and the way we look? It’s human nature to want to look good. Each one of us would like to fix something about ourselves: the way we laugh, or that little belly that peeks out from under a T-shirt.

Sometimes, this preoccupation with being thin reaches a stage where one would knowingly compromise one’s life for it. That is what I became a victim of—anorexia nervosa, an eating disorder in which people intentionally starve themselves to lose weight. I could attribute a clear face to the monster beneath my bed: food.

I

am 17 years old. Anorexia among teenagers is a topic that has been much spoken about and is now dusted under the carpet. But I know girls not just my own age but even 10 and 12 years old who have been diagnosed with anorexia. I find that quite astounding and perplexing. In my mind, at that age concepts like body image

14 october 2013

must be intangible and the only thing that ought to matter is that second bar of chocolate.

A 12-year-old girl I know in Delhi skipped her meals and survived on fruits and water for three weeks before collapsing due to lack of energy. When asked how the idea of weight loss entered her head, she said, “I don’t quite know. Often my friends used to tease me for being fat and would not talk to me properly. I was always the outsider in my friends circle. Plus, everything pretty seems to be thin, so I thought if I just lost weight, I would be good enough.”

This girl is often seen with measuring tapes and weighing scales, and after checking her weight, she sulks.

She is skinny, but thinks otherwise.

According to her, curvy actresses like Bipasha Basu are “fat”. Her obsession with weight loss is such that no matter how much weight she loses, “It’s not enough.” Her mother claims that “It’s not her fault; she lives in an age where beauty lies in being just bones.”

Another friend of hers, who is 13 years old, has also been anorexic for the past one-and-a-half years now and has undergone intensive therapy sessions. She used to see her mother dieting since she didn’t “want to be fat and ugly”. Soon, she too started cutting down on chocolates and carbohydrates and was eventually living on an orange or apple a day.

From 38 kg, her weight dropped to 28 kg, and she had to be hospitalised for three weeks. Even then, she refused to eat and had to be given nutrition intravenously. After returning home, her cycle resumed. Now that her parents were aware of the severity of the situa-

tion, they forced her to eat. Initially, she plotted ways of hiding the food but got found out. “It was my worst nightmare and my fondest dream. You see, my taste buds longed for the delicious kaju ki barfi, but at the same time, I felt terribly guilty after eating. So I adopted a new method: I ate and then for dessert I would have laxatives,” she says.

Soon, she could not control her bowel movements, her weight dropped drastically and she started having bad stomach aches. “Both laxatives and anorexia were so concealed in my daughter that I could barely figure out the warning signs,” says her mother, “At least laxatives are pills that I found in her drawers, but anorexia is a phenomenon which hardly has an exterior appearance until it’s too late. It was not until her [Body Mass Index] fell so low that she couldn’t walk that I suspected that something was amiss—because general weight loss can be attributed to growing up or exercising.”

After her mother discovered the teenager’s new solace, laxatives, she was not allowed to step out of the house and was always accompanied by her maid. The 13-year-old threw fits and rebelled against the basic idea of food.

She says, “I did not want to eat. It is my life and I was so annoyed that my parents were encroaching on my personal space.” Finally, her parents took her to a psychiatrist. It took several therapy sessions and a mild dosage of anti-depressants to convince her to eat properly.

The turning point in her mind came when she realised that her metabolism would eventually fail her and even an apple could make her fat. The remedy, it turns out, was her fear of getting fat. Even now, when she claims to be open www.openthemagazine.com 47

perfectly well, she still follows a stringent diet of only boiled food and vegetables. She says, “This is the only way I can feel better about eating.”

Both friends have sunken eyes and dry skin, and are noticeably lethargic.

They often wear baggy clothes as they think themselves “too fat” for snugfit clothes. “Anorexia starts off as a drive for perfection but ends as the ugliest form of imperfection,” says the mother of the 12-year-old.

“Anorexia among preteens is not all that bewildering; it generally starts off at the age of 13,” says Dr Vipul Rastogi, a pychiatrist at Medanta Hospital in Delhi. He adds, “Fifteen per cent of the patients get better, 15 per cent don’t, and the rest just keep fluctuating. In India, the rates of anorexia are gradually increasing as we now see slimmer and slimmer actresses and role models.

Most of my cases are people [of such a] social background, where terms like ‘dieting’ and ‘body image’ are considered colloquial. As for the recovery, we have a lot of restrictions on forcing the intake of food, thus the only route open for us is to first make the patient come to terms with the fact that they have an illness and then gradually make them eat.”

P

eople often say that anorexia is an

obsession with losing weight, but a 17-year-old from Delhi with an eating disorder, who does not want to be identified, presents a counterclaim: “No, I am not obsessed with weight loss. On the face of it, it might seem so, but actually I am obsessed with the need to control myself. Since I can’t control situational factors that affect my life, I control how much I weigh. Every time I binge, I feel like I have betrayed myself and feel powerless. For me, my stringent diet is all I have to weave my life the way I want to.”

Reckless eating has become a common phenomena nowadays, whether it’s a crash diet or stress bingeing.

Anorexia seems like nothing more than an exaggerated form of dieting, but there is a thin line between the two. Healthy dieting starts off with a

48 open

fixed goal and terminates when that is achieved. But for an anorectic, every time a goal is achieved, another one is formed. One major event that happens on the path that leads a dieter to an eating disorder is that the relationship she shares with food changes. Initially, food is seen as something that needs to be controlled, but later food becomes the very embodiment of Satan that

It took

several therapy sessions and a mild dosage of anti-depressants to convince her to eat.

The turning point in her mind came

when she realised that her metabolism would eventually fail her and even an apple could make her fat. The remedy, it turns out, was her

fear of getting fat needs to be avoided at all costs.

In 2010, the world saw the death of Isabelle Caro, a young French model who had suffered from the disorder. The emaciated Caro had earlier posed nude for a photo campaign titled ‘No Anorexia’ to raise awareness of the disorder. She’d then said, “I have hidden my body for too long. I know that the sight of it may arouse repug-

nance or disgust but I feel that I need to do this.” In an article published in The Chicago Tribune, Caro was quoted as saying, “The idea was to shock people into awareness. I decided to do it to warn girls about the danger of diets and of fashion commandments.”

Eating disorders prey on the most intimate fears in their victims. I know now that it curbed my power to think straight; the only thing I could think of was the calories I was taking in. I love food, and my struggle was between my yearning for food and the desire to stay thin. I wanted to eat like a normal person, I wanted that slice of cake lying in my fridge, but I needed to see my bones too. As I starved myself, the hunger thirsted for attention, which I quenched with water. I knew I was hungry, but then pretty girls can’t get hungry.

The recovery was excruciating. After prolonged periods of hunger being your best friend, taking up food again was tough. Initially, I refused to believe that I had an illness since I still perceived myself as this colossal weight walking the earth. It was only when I couldn’t walk anymore that I realised I needed help. At first, I didn’t want to recover. This translated into becoming fat, and every pound I gained was like a slap on my face. I felt like I was losing grip on my life, and I relapsed. Each time there was a relapse, I welcomed my anorexia back with open arms; I cherished it.

At its core, anorexia was my lack of self-confidence and my habit of measuring success with the numbers on a weighing scale. I now believe that being ‘pretty’ is the most elaborate form of self-harm. Even now, though I have recovered, I am extremely sceptical about my weight. And that I believe is something that will never go away. I believe that it was the elimination of my insecurities that pulled me through. It was only when I realised that my effort to control my life was actually letting anorexia control it that I accepted the fact that, often, losing so much weight means losing yourself.

Eating disorders are hard to give up, but harder to live with. n 14 october 2013

Books Legal Landscape Zia Mody’s 10 Judgements That Changed India offers a quick and succinct, if somewhat dry, insight into India’s judicial journey Madhavankutty Pillai

barry rosenthal/getty images

10 Judgements That Changed India

By Zia Mody Penguin India | 240 pages | Rs 399

I

n early 2012, Raghul Sudheesh—

now founder-editor of the online law magazine LiveLaw, but at the time a writer with Bar&Bench—did an interview with Kesavananda Bharati, head of the Edaneer mutt in Kerala.

In the introduction, he wrote: ‘It was quite interesting to learn that either [Bharati] wasn’t aware of, or didn’t attribute much importance to, his contribution to Indian law.’

Bharati, a young man of 19 when he became the head of his mutt, a hereditary position, also didn’t remember much about the proceedings of the case initiated under his name 40 years ago because “the lawyers handled it”. He didn’t go to the courts then, and even now doesn’t think about it. “I only remember it when I am asked to comment about it,” he told Sudheesh.

And yet, his is probably the most famous name in the Indian legal fraternity when it comes to a judgment.

Kesavananda Bharati vs the State of Kerala is also naturally the first case discussed in Zia Mody’s 10 Judgements That Changed India.

The case was about challenging land reforms enacted by the Kerala government, which could have lost the Edaneer mutt much of its property. Around the same time, the Central Government amended the Indian Constitution to insert certain land 50 open

reform laws, which adversely affected Bharati’s case. Nani Palkhivala, the counsel, then used the case to challenge three Constitutional amendments and so, in effect, the question became how much power Parliament had to make changes to the Constitution.

Mody, one of India’s best known corporate lawyers, writes that the Supreme Court went on to deliver ‘what is arguably the most monumental decision in its history on 24 April 1973’. Thirteen judges sat for five months and finally ‘ascribed to [the Supreme Court] the function of preserving the integrity of the Indian Constitution.’

The Court upheld the amendments as valid but added one important rider for the future. Mody writes: ‘the court’s most significant decision, made by a thin majority of 7:6, was that although the Parliament had the power to amend any part of the Constitution, it could not use this power to alter or destroy the ‘basic structure’—or framework—of the Constitution.’

Bharati lost that case and, in his interview with Sudheesh, speaks about how the mutt, which was self-sustaining because of revenues from its land, now has to rely on donations. But the effect of that judgment was revolutionary.

Because there is no agreement on what ‘basic structure’ is, Mody writes, ‘the only certainty is that judges will be free to mould the ‘basic structure’ corpus to emasculate any constitutional amendment that strikes at the ‘spirit of Indian democracy’.’ It is one of the reasons India can never be anything but a democracy.

Some of the other judgments the book looks at are the Shah Bano case on maintenance for divorced Muslim women, the Creamy Layer prohibition on reservations to Other Backward Classes, Vishaka guidelines on dealing with sexual harassment at the workplace, and the Aruna Shanbaug case on euthanasia. All ten judgments taken together make for an interesting journey through India’s post-Independence experience of democracy. The impression is of an Executive 14 october 2013

relentlessly populist and self-serving (the Kesavananda Bharati case is an exception, where the enactment of land reforms was for a common good) and a Supreme Court trying to retain the ideals that the makers of India’s Constitution envisaged.

The Court is often defeated in this tussle, as it was in the Shah Bano case.

Bano was divorced by her husband of over 40 years by a triple ‘talaq’ and all he paid her was a lumpsum of Rs 3,000 as per Muslim Personal Law. When she went to court, she was awarded Rs 25 per month. A High Court appeal revised it to Rs 179 and her husband challenged even that in the Supreme Court, which set up a five-judge Constitutional bench to resolve the issue of maintenance for divorced Muslim women. It held that

Taken together, the ten judgements give the impression of a relentlessly populist and self-serving Executive, and a Supreme Court trying to retain the ideals of the Constitution they were entitled to it under Section 125 of the Criminal Procedure Code and in any conflict of this section with the personal law, the former would override the latter. It also exhorted the setting up of a Uniform Civil Code, a directive principle of policy.

Mody writes about how this was not really a path-breaking judgment; earlier orders had said as much. ‘Perhaps the most logical criticism of the judgement on secular grounds is the fact that the court could have decided in Shah Bano’s favour based on constitutional principles, without interpreting Muslim law (which was done in two cases before Shah Bano). The court ventured into hazardous territory when it invoked its own interpretation of the Quran.’

What happened subsequently is well known. The Rajiv Gandhi Government passed a law to nullify the judgment and, adding irony, called

it the Muslim Women (Protection of Rights in Divorce) Act. Many see this act of ‘appeasement’ as the beginning of the rise of right-wing Hindu communal politics in India.

The eventual fate of the core issue, that of maintenance for Muslim women, was strange. In a 2001 case, Danial Latifi vs Union of India, the Supreme Court creatively interpreted the Muslim Women (Protection of Rights in Divorce) Act to again assign rights to a reasonable maintenance. As Mody writes, ‘Although the Supreme Court went against the obvious legislative intent behind the enactment of the MWA, it interpreted the law to truly protect Muslim women.’

The Court continued to uphold the rights of Muslim women later, too: ‘The conjoint effect of two recent decisions of the Supreme Court is that a divorced Muslim woman is free to either seek maintenance under Section 125 of the CrPC or claim lump sum alimony under the MWA.’ And so, despite the overturning of the Shah Bano judgment, it is more or less in force today.

The book is a round-up of such seminal judgments, and offers an engaging bird’s eye view. On the other hand, it is nothing more. Mody writes like a lawyer, breathing little life into the subjects she touches on. It is textbookstyle writing. There is an absence of anecdotes, even on issues fertile for them—like the arguments and events surrounding reservations, or the great tug of war between the Judiciary and Government over judicial appointments finally culminating in the Supreme Court taking for itself the power in a 1993 case.

Mody mentions everything, but, in the interest of detailed and whole coverage, makes no attempt to bring in any sort of storytelling element. Her own perspective is minimal; some opinion usually comes in towards the end of the recounting of each case, but otherwise you get exactly what the cover promises—a summary of ten judgments and their impact. But still, for anyone who wants a quick and succinct insight into the milestones along India’s judicial journey so far, this book is it. n open www.openthemagazine.com 51

arts Resisting the Brush Off Incensed by the media’s indifference to Indian art, Satish Naik began publishing his own magazine, one whose articles are often seen as works of art in themselves ashlesha athavale

I

t takes a special kind of mad-

ness to fuel the passion of a person like Satish Naik. The artist, who was also a journalist, was angry with the treatment meted out to art by the Indian media. The madness festered like a wound for years until the death of a veteran artist he admired led him to channel it into a publication called Chinha, a Marathi art magazine that Naik has single-handedly run, irrespective of profit or loss, for over 12 years.

He has run it all this while from his house, helped by his wife, son, daughter and a couple of staff members.

Most of the money earned by the magazine is put into the production

Apoorva Gupte

lone ranger Naik has run Chinha from his home for over 12 years with the help of his wife, children and only a couple of staff members

of the next issue.

As a young student, Naik, an avid reader himself, was content bringing out an art magazine with his friends.

He even helped with a magazine on theatre. He later joined the Indian Express Group and was soon disillusioned with the media’s view of art.

So he started his own art magazine, Chinha—‘symbol’—and ran it from 1987 to 1990, after which he devoted his time to journalism.

But the death of Vasudeo Gaitonde in 2001 changed that. Angered by the too-brief obituary in The Times of India, Naik decided to restart Chinha to give Gaitonde his due. Since that issue, which had a special supplement on the abstract artist, Naik has published Chinha every year. He featured Gaitonde again in 2006 and 2007.

Almost every issue of Chinha is a collector’s item, with profiles or interviews running into many pages.

Chinha has always made a statement— be it an issue themed ‘Nudity in Art’, or an exposé on the politics within what was once the country’s premier art institution, JJ School of Art. Sitting in his house at Kasheli village near Thane, Naik, an alumnus of the School, says: “It is sad, but truly the politics of caste has ruined the institute. Qualified people have been pushed aside and unqualified people have assumed positions of authority on the basis of caste. This is why I did not allow my son to study there. What is even sadder is that though Chinha made waves with that issue, which caused a few changes politically, nothing has improved in the School.

Students continue to lose.”

Not content with having featured Gaitonde in the magazine, Naik embarked on a mission to create a book on him. He started work on it in 2007. The mammoth book, titled Gaitondenchya Shodhaat – In Search of Gaitonde, will be published in October 2013. In fact the room where Naik works on Chinha is full of books, old issues of the magazine and information he has collected for the book on Gaitonde.

There wasn’t much literature available on the artist, who did not like to 14 october 2013

talk and kept largely to himself. But Naik had kept newspaper clippings of a rare interview Gaitonde had done, and asked well known artist Laxman Shreshtha, who considers Gaitonde his guru, noted artist Prabhakar Kolte whose works Gaitonde admired, and Dadiba Pundole, owner of the Pundole art gallery to whom Gaitonde gave many of his works to display, to write about him. Naik even managed to track down Gaitonde’s sister and niece and persuade them to write for the book. Some previously published articles in Chinha will also be republished.

Also to be published is Gaitonde’s horoscope patrika. Says Naik, “Gaitonde’s father understood horoscopes and had predicted that if he became an artist, he would not get anything financially—the world would.

So he would beat him up, tear his

Naik feels the media has failed Indian artists because of “its tendency to cover Picasso, not Gaitonde”...

“We write about foreign artists. We don’t recognise the significance of our own” paintings etcetera. This is why I will publish the horoscope.” Sadly, time has proven the father prophetic.

Part of the Bombay Progressive Artist’s Group, Gaitonde, like others in the group, exhibited his works internationally. Today, his works are in collections both in India and abroad.

In 2014, a Gaitonde retrospective will open at the Solomon R Guggenheim Museum in New York City. This will be the first time the museum will feature an Indian artist. The retrospective will tour the world, ending in New Delhi. Naik will translate his book on Gaitonde into English, and it will be made available as an ebook on the occasion.

MF Husain once described Gaitonde as one of only two “genius painters in India”, the other being Prabhakar Barve. Naik intends to bring out a

similar book on Barve.

Of late, Indian art and artists have become the toast of the Western world. So is the Guggenheim belated in its recognition of Gaitonde’s work?

Naik feels so: “Yes, the Guggenheim is late in bestowing such an honour on an Indian artist, but the fault also lies with the Indian media, which has failed artists—the reason being our tendency to cover Picasso, not Gaitonde. We tend to write about foreign artists. We don’t recognise the significance of our [own] artists.”

He is still annoyed with the media.

“Closer home,” he says, “I have also felt that Marathi editors have failed to give enough importance to Marathi artists. Unlike Bengali newspapers where the editors give space to Bengali artists, Marathi editors never give art enough space.”

Naik’s answer to this problem is Chinha. Through the years, he has faced several problems in bringing out its issues. People have promised advertisements and backtracked at the last minute. The only commercial billings typically come from artists advertising themselves, patrons who are aware of his dedication and struggle to bring out the magazine.

But the years have taken a toll on him and he intends to stop the print magazine after the next issue. “I want to paint,” he says, “I am an artist.”

However, he will put up Chinha’s earlier issues in English online and may upload new articles on the site as and when he can.

The loss of Chinha will be a big one to the world of art journalism. Naik is well aware of this and is even willing to pass on the baton to another person who will take on the magazine. He has recently been invited to meet the executives of two banks who want to sponsor the magazine. But while this seems to promise a new beginning, Naik is firm on his decision.

Chinha has carved a niche for itself in the sphere of art magazines. The magazine’s articles are often as noteworthy as some works of art, says admirers. But while Naik’s decision to move on spells a loss for journalism, it could be a gain for the canvas. n open www.openthemagazine.com 53

arts

An Imperfect Egg In today’s world of open source and Facebook, everyone curates and everything is curated. But does this mean that ‘anything goes’?

SHREYA RAY

piero cruciatti/corbis

I

n one of the many winding lanes

of Shahpurjat—arguable poor/underrated cousin to boho-chic central Hauz Khas Village—is a store called The Wishing Chair. Cute animal-printed ceramics, bird-cage lamps and other such Enid Blytonesque collectibles make up this consumerist dreamscape that its owners will tell you is an exercise in “curation”. Elsewhere in boho-chic land, a store brings together items like ‘a clay chappal fridge magnet’ or ‘tribal bamboo toys’ with each piece telling a ‘story’. This is Dhoop Crafts—‘A Boutique for Curated Crafts and Design’.

There was an India that its pre-liberalisation children have known where the word ‘curator’, as writer Girish Shahane points out, would be associated with “someone working on a crick54 open

et pitch”. And there is the India now.

Flooding e-commerce websites, indie-stores, coffee shops and Facebook feeds, ‘curator’ appears to be to this generation what ‘doctor-engineer’ was to the previous.

‘Everyone wants to be a curator nowadays,’ writes Spanish curator Paco Barragán in an article called The Curator’s Paradox. “Everything from visual arts to films to books, to food and clothes is curated for the viewer,” adds Mumbai-based Nancy Adajania, who curated the 9th Gwanju Biennale (2012), and was one of the speakers at the recently-held Curator’s Hub at Kolkata’s Experimenter Gallery last month.

In the most traditional use of the term, a curator belongs to the art world, engaging in a constant pro-

cess of selection and omission. “A museum curator tends to the collection, augments it, and creates shows based on it. An independent curator conceives shows, selects artists and convinces them to participate on the basis of the concept note, writes the curatorial note/catalogue essay/wall text, and usually designs the show,” says Shahane, who describes himself as a writer who takes on curatorial projects from time to time, and who spoke at the Hub about Homespun, an exhibition he curated in 2011 at the Devi Art Foundation.

But more important than what the curator does, is why she does, says Adajania. “Curation is part of my ongoing intellectual and philosophical quest. It is the quest that matters, not the institutional protocols of curat14 october 2013

lens “The curator gives us eyes,” says gallerist Prateek Raja, “letting the audience see things”

ing, which are part of the detailed pursuit of any serious practice. Above all, a curator bears witness to the complex realities of cultural practice, shifts in expressive culture. To curate is to commit oneself to an inquiry into culture, its forms and its producers,” she adds.

Some of the country’s earliest curators, observes Adajania, didn’t even call themselves that. “Even before the term ‘curator’ became current in the 2000s, critics and artists such as Geeta Kapur (Place for People, 1981) and Vivan Sundaram (Seven Young Sculptors 1985), to name just two, were engaged in the conceptualisation and organisation of exhibitions. I would explain their practice as a ‘proto-curatorial’ practice—an act of curation that did not have a name or context but which nevertheless performed the designated function.”

Adajania mentions drawing her curatorial lineage from pioneers such as Lucy Lippard, Gerardo Mosquera and Okwui Enwezor who did not study curation academically—there was no academic course in curating when they began their work—but who “made a lasting contribution to the field of curation by raising urgent aesthetic and political questions in relation to transcultural art practices, including neglected artistic voices from Latin America, Africa and Asia, to counter the West-centric global art discourse.”

But somewhere down the line, India—along with the rest of the world—entered the era of globalisation. Globalisation, the shrinking of the world, and the explosion of information, means “more artists, more curators, more everything”, says Oliver Kielmayer, Director of Kunsthalle Winterthur, Switzerland, who spoke at the Hub about cultural budgets, politics and time for contemplation.

In the art world itself there has been an explosion, says gallerist Prateek Raja, experimenter. “Though this does not necessarily mean that the number of exhibitions has increased exponentially, it does mean that because of 14 october 2013

technology I can see an artwork being exhibited simultaneously in Macau as well as Milan... In addition, art itself is occupying all kinds of spaces from design, [to] fashion, to architecture.”

“The curator gives us eyes,” says Raja, “letting the audience see things, and not letting them see things. A balance has to be maintained; too much control is also not a good thing.” For instance, Raja recalls an exhibition a few years ago which used for its theme a line from the popular Star Trek franchise—‘Beam me up, Scotty.’ “To somebody unfamiliar with the movie, it might seem silly. But this is the job of a curator. To put together a body of art, to bring a twist to the phrase, to give it context, and to write about it— these are the layers the curator brings in,” he says.

“A curator,” says Nancy Adajania, “bears witness to the complex realities of cultural practice, shifts in expressive culture. To curate is to commit oneself to an inquiry into culture” The layered nature of the curator’s work is what Adajania calls a “constellation”, as opposed to the one-dimensional act of putting together a display of artworks. “An exhibition does not simply constitute a display of art works. Rather, I treat the exhibition as a complex organism that can and must expand to include conferences, pedagogical workshops, research archives and publications. As a curator, I do not simply put up an exhibition; rather, I work to create a constellation of provocative forms and questions around the phenomenon of art.”

Sometimes curators can become roadblocks for artists as well; curators, like anybody else, can get information overloaded, Raja points out.

He cites the 55th Venice Biennale (2012) curated by the New York-based Massimiliano Gioni. Two of the biggest criticisms of the event were that

it was called ‘Il Palazzo Enciclopedico’ (The Encyclopaedic Palace), implying that Gioni didn’t want to take any positions, and that the mix of artists there was broadly the same as the artists in the Gwanju Biennale in 2010, also curated by Gioni.

Naturally, the same explosion is being mirrored in all aspects of life.

The world has entered an era of information overload, with everything from your Twitter feed to what cuisine to serve at a dinner necessitating selection and omission, says Raja.

“Curation is about informed selection; the curator is the person with knowledge and familiarity with the subject,” he adds.

In a neo-liberal world, a “range of experiences are curated for the consumer”, adds Adajania. “A curated experience is perceived as a capital-generator and a value addition in a hyper-consumerist economy, thus we witness the ubiquitous presence of curated lists in the online and offline world,” she says. Buzzfeed, a website that puts together lists of various kinds (from funny owl photos to the best Woody Allen one-liners), has figured out that going viral is just a curatorial click away.

The term now has a certain cachet, an unmistakable glamour. It’s also a glamour that’s easily accessible—lowcost travel, the internet, Facebook, and a host of compact curatorial courses offered at Bard College, De Appel and the New Yorkian Independent Curators International—as Barragán’s article points out.

The flipside to this, says Adjania, is a “vulgarisation” through over-usage.

“The problem with the word being used so loosely and freely is that everyone becomes a curator. The term has become so accessible that it dilutes the actual act,” says Raja.

Like everything in the world of open-source, curation could well become a euphemism for ‘anything goes’. As Barragan concludes, despite the great resources offered to participants, ‘most exhibitions at De Appel curated by these ‘strongly motivated participants’, according to a De Appel press release, really suck.’ n open www.openthemagazine.com 55

CINEMA A Quiet Revolution Salim-Javed’s Zanjeer case and the good turn it may do Hindi film scriptwriters Shaikh Ayaz

Writer Salim Khan’s apartment, Bandra, Mumbai Date: 20 September 2013

“D

ekho bhai (Look, brother),” Salim Khan says over the phone, guiding me with directions to his makeshift flat near Carter Road in Bandra, “Main rehta toh Arabian Sea ke saamne hoon, par building ka naam Pacific Heights hai.”

(Although I live in front of the Arabian Sea, the name of the building is Pacific Heights.)

The meeting was arranged for personal reasons but we couldn’t resist discussing the recent Zanjeer case, in which Khan along with former writing partner Javed Akhtar had filed a suit at the Bombay High Court asserting copyright over the story, script and dialogue of Prakash Mehra’s 1973 hit Zanjeer. Its remake, which opened to lukewarm response on 6 September, is based on the original script authored by Salim-Javed and stars the Telugu heartthrob Ram Charan Teja in Amitabh Bachchan’s breakthrough role of Inspector Vijay.

“We had given [our] blessings to make the film but not permission,” Khan told The Economic Times on 24 January. He says that Prakash Mehra’s sons, Amit, Puneet and Sumeet, had visited him (separately) to seek his blessings. The film was made under their late father’s banner, Prakash Mehra Productions. At first they tried to make an ‘emotional’ appeal to Khan, claiming that they were reviving their family banner. “I told them it’s not an emotional issue, it’s a commercial issue. They were remaking Zanjeer to make money,” says Khan, who has so far maintained that it wasn’t the lure of monetary compensation that prompted the lawsuit. It is, in fact, a question of what’s “legitimately ours”, he says.

“Both Javed saab and I are in a com56 open

fortable financial position in our respective lives,” Khan says. “Aapko kya lagta hai itni bhagham-daudi kyun ki humnein? Paise ke liye?” (Why do you think we ran around so much? For money?) The Mehra brothers, Puneet and Sumeet, producers of the new Zanjeer, offered Salim-Javed a chance to settle the matter out of court. Though

they declined the offer, they eventually did end up calling for a truce out of court on the advice of the division bench of Justice DY Chandrachud and M S Sonak. Khan doesn’t see this as a setback: “We were sure that if we went entropy “If everybody is earning in crores,” says Salim Khan, “what’s stopping the writer?”

yogen shah/india today group/getty images

to court and the ruling came in our favour, it will become a precedent and other writers will also [benefit]—even those whose fathers had worked for as low as Rs 5,000 on scripts that became jubilee hits.”

Akhtar, who like his embittered fictional creation Vijay has emerged as an activist for the writers’ movement—though some detractors point to his leaning towards the cause of lyricists and musicians—knew that if Zanjeer fared well, it would do so on the strength of their powerful script. ‘They are willing to spend huge amounts on everyone and everything—stars, locations, costumes, choreographer, action director—but they won’t spend money on a script,’ Akhtar protested on Rediff.com on 10 April, convinced that ‘the super-hit Hindi films that are made into Telugu get up to Rs 3 crore. So we feel we too deserve a compensation of Rs 3 crore.’

Khan says the arithmetic of the Zanjeer redux is simple. “Ram Charan is a major attraction in Andhra Pradesh.

It was almost certain that the Telugu version would do well, if not the Hindi one.” As an aside, he says of the original Zanjeer, “Uss picture ko star ki zaroorat nahin thi (That film did not need a star). In fact, it made Amitabh Bachchan a star.”

A random man (presumably a friend or relative), among the many who crowd Khan’s ‘open house’ says from somewhere, “Salim saab, the Telugu version was sold for Rs 55 crore. That’s profit on the table.”

At his prodding, Khan says, “Today, a film’s budget is Rs 50-60 crore and the recovery is Rs 100 crore plus. If everybody is earning in crores, what’s stopping the writer?”

What’s stopping the writer—well, many things.

Writer Anjum Rajabali’s apartment, Juhu, Mumbai 14 September 2013

A

clear sunny day. Anjum Rajabali, whose screen credits read such politically-conscious films as Drohkaal, Raajneeti and Satyagraha among oth-

14 october 2013

ers, is slouched over the sofa. He shuts his Mac and starts off with the Zanjeer dispute. Calling it a “tricky” case, he says, “Salim-Javed showed tremendous integrity and insisted on a legal route.

If they had won, it would have become a landmark case. Unfortunately, it did not quite work out that way.”

Rajabali feels the Zanjeer imbroglio, both the obstacles it had to face and its poor response, turns the spotlight on the contentious questions of copyright in Hindi cinema and the very wisdom of remakes. “When you create something original, by the law of natural justice and logic, it is yours,” says Rajabali, who, under Javed Akhtar’s guardianship, has been at the forefront of the movement that seeks recognition for writers.

He bridles at the ignorance of writers on how copyright works. Some don’t

Most writers agreed on one thing: nothing is original, so what’s the fuss about? “Only a fool can be absolutely original,” Salim Khan says.

Originality “is the art of concealing the source” even know what it means. Ordinarily, he says, copyright ought to operate this way: “Anybody who wants a piece of work written by somebody else needs to take the creator’s permission. You have to pay the person because when a producer is taking somebody’s work, he is monetising it. So long as he pays up, it’s a fair deal. The writer is happy, the producer is happy and everything is fine.”

But that’s not how it has been happening, Rajabali alleges. “Instead,” he says, “all the writer’s rights were being taken away by the producer with the underlined subtext that, ‘Boss, I am doing you a favour by purchasing your work.’ Unfortunately, artists and writers are treated like people who are helpless and needy.”

As Javed Akhtar, also a Rajya Sabha member, put it in his plaintive speech

for the Copyright Amendment Bill in Parliament: “Jis mulk mein sangeet ke aur shayari ke itne charagh roshan hain, unkein neeche dekhiye toh andhera hi hai, jis andhere mein Hindustan ke writers ki aur musicians ki zindagi barson se laachaar aur bebas bhatak rahi hai.” (In a land that has produced leading lights of music and poetry, there is only darkness for these artistes, a darkness in which they have spent their lives for ages, wandering aimless and helpless.) Then HRD Minister Kapil Sibal, who introduced the Bill, cited Ustad Bismillah Khan’s poor condition as an example of a striving artiste and said he had helped the late shehnai maestro financially.

Bollywood abounds with Bismillah Khans. However, some insist their condition was far worse in the pre-corporatised era of cinema. The producer would hand a one-time fee to the writer for his services, and he had to forgo all other rights, including that to regular royalty. Typically, the last instalment was never paid if the film tanked. “‘Loss gaya’ (It’s a loss)’’,” Rajabali says, mimicking a stereotypical Bollywood producer, “‘Mera nuksaan ho gaya aur tumko paise chahiye? Tumhari story nahin chali’ (I suffered a loss and you want money?

Your story didn’t work). What would the writer do then? He had no power.”

Barring Salim-Javed, most writers were at the mercy of producers. There was no precedent of contracts. Instead, an oral understanding existed between the producer and the writer, and that was the status quo for long. Says Rajabali, “The producer would ask the writer, ‘Bhaiyya, kitne paise loge? Achcha, yeh loh aur jab jab zaroorat padegi aap mujhse maangte rehna’ (Brother, how much will you charge? Ok, take this much for now and whenever you need money ask me.) Slowly, the producer became the mai-baap (mother-father).

And the writer had no option but to say, ‘Haan sir aap jo kaho’ (Yes sir, whatever you say).”

In their heyday, Khan says, when they started demanding Rs 1 lakh for a script, “The industry was shocked. But our price raise benefited other writers as well. I personally know of writers who went from charging Rs 25,000 to a few lakh [for a film script].” open www.openthemagazine.com 57

Not that Salim-Javed had it easy. In the early 1970s, what they earned was nothing to crow about. Khan chuckles as he recounts, “For Haathi Mere Saathi we got Rs 10,000. For Andaz and Seeta Aur Geeta we got Rs 750 per month because we were on the Sippys’ story department. For Yaadon Ki Baaraat, it was Rs 25,000 and Rs 55,000 for Zanjeer.”

Asked how they would have fared, had they worked in Hollywood, “We would be millionaires,” Khan says, smiling at the wishful question. “Today, we have flats. If we had [scripted] as many hits in Hollywood, we would have owned islands off Bombay’s shores—probably even in Hawaii.” Forget islands and flats, most Hindi film writers cannot even afford a snug suburban existence, even after years of sweating it out. Khan describes them as minor players in a plot they themselves create for films.

Justifiably, Akhtar, Rajabali and Co have lobbied aggressively to swing crucial amendments of the Indian Copyright Act, 1957, and were successful in getting the Copyright Amendment Bill passed by the Rajya Sabha in May last year. Khan is particularly heartened with the ‘moral rights’ amendment, which states that an author’s work cannot be distorted in such a crude manner that it brings him/her infamy. “We never wrote a single line with a double entendre. Neither did we ever write a sex scene or bathroom scene. This amendment will deter people from misusing good scripts,” he says. By Rajabali’s account, the key amendments include an emphasis on written contracts and the right to receive royalty, which the writer shall inalienably hold.

The Film Writers’ Association (FWA) had also formed a copyright management and royalty collection organisation. It is currently working out an appropriate deal template that will serve as a model for the Indian film and television industries. Currently, the minimum basic contracts drafted by the FWA for film and TV writers respectively is being negotiated with producers and broadcasters, a move that Rajabali says will go a long way in delivering “some regulation, safeguards 58 open

and equity in the professional status of screenwriters”.

He continues: “We make 1,200 films a year and have about 600 channels.

You can imagine the amount of writing that goes in, and in what ways writers can benefit.”

“Kuch khaas improvement nahin aaya hai writers ki life mein (there has been no significant improvement in the life of writers),” Khan says, though acknowledging that writers are catching up and are generally smarter than before.

When did the Poor, Neglected, Jhola-Carrying Writer get this smart? In Rajabali’s view, the Indian Screenwriters’ Conference convened in 2006 at the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII), Pune, was the eureka moment. “We were expecting 60-70 people at most. But we got over 275. Right from Shekhar Kapur and

Well into the 2000s, we were ripping off both obscure and popular Hollywood films.

When the Big Brothers of California turned their eye on us, we could no longer sell knockoffs with lame excuses Shyam Benegal to Jaideep Sahni and Anurag Kashyap—everybody landed [up]. We kept the last session to discuss writers’ problems.”

“Oh, man,” he exults. “You should have seen the anger and bitterness that writers expressed. Paragraphs of contracts were read out—which was pathetic. That was the time we decided something had to be done.” He insists that the Zanjeer case should be viewed in this light. The case will probably have a long-term impact.

“It’s only the beginning,” says Khan.

A Writer at the Leaping Windows Café Versova, Mumbai 13 September 2013

R

emake. Senior filmmakers and actors see the ‘R’ word as the cancer of cinema. Many are on record about

why classics shouldn’t be fiddled with.

When Ram Gopal Varma was making Aag based on Sholay, he had to deal with so much pressure that he felt like a criminal. “I am only making a film, not committing a crime,” he pleaded.

What is a crime is actually stealing.

In which case, isn’t remaking better than stealing? Director Rohan Sippy argues that remakes aren’t necessarily a bad thing but “bad remakes” are.

“There is a famous saying: ‘Good artists copy, great artists steal’,” Sippy says, quoting Picasso’s line justifying his generous borrowings from great masters. “I am not saying classics are sacrosanct,” Sippy says, switching the subject back to cinema. “The point is once you do it, ensure you do a bloody great job,” he says, suggesting that there is a delicate line between inspiration and plagiarism and a filmmaker must walk that tightrope.

He recounts a story related to his father Ramesh Sippy’s hit comedy Seeta Aur Geeta (1972), a playful nod to Dilip Kumar’s Ram Aur Shyam (1967).

Talking about how they gave a canny twist to an old idea, he says, “Instead of a male protagonist, Salim-Javed and Dad decided to cast a woman (Hema Malini) as the hero. They created new scenes and situations and made an entirely fresh scenario. After the film became a hit, Ram Aur Shyam’s original producers persuaded Dad to sell them the rights. Dad was like, ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s something we took from your film.’” This echoes the bizarre case of Subhash Ghai selling the rights of Karz (1980) to Himesh Reshammiya for material that wasn’t even his own. Karz was, in euphemistic Hindi film terminology, ‘inspired’ by The Reincarnation of Peter Proud.

Never mind that getting ‘inspired’ was once Bollywood’s favourite pastime. Till as late as the noughties, we were cheerfully ripping off material from both obscure and popular Hollywood films. And then something strange happened. The Big Brothers of California who had never taken any interest in the Third World suddenly turned their lenses on us. Now, you could no longer sell Hollywood knockoffs citing lame excuses.

14 october 2013

mechanical reproduction Salim Khan says the arithmetic behind the remake of Zanjeer is based on the massive popularity of its hero, Telugu sensation Ram Charan Teja. The original, he points out, had a strong script so did not need a star. Indeed, it made a star express archives

By most estimates, David Dhawan’s 2007 Salman Khan-Govinda starrer Partner was a cause célèbre. The producers of Will Smith-starrer Hitch, by which Partner was more than just ‘inspired’, threatened the film with legal action. Similarly, the makers of My Cousin Vinny charged filmmaker Ravi Chopra with plagiarism for Banda Yeh Bindaas Hai and were successful in getting an injunction on it. Some wondered why not a soul objected when David Dhawan pinched the Jim Carrey comedy Liar Liar for his Kyo Kii... Main Jhuth Nahin Bolta in 2001.

“That’s because Hollywood wasn’t aware of what was happening in India.

We were just a small pie in the global movie business,” reasons a screenwriter who worked on an official remake of a Hollywood hit last year.

14 october 2013

Drawing an analogy, he says, “If some people in Africa are stealing from Bollywood, how would we know?”

But things changed with 2007’s Saawariya, which marked the entry of Sony Pictures, one of the early studios to set up shop in India. Hindi films were now on Hollywood’s radar. “They started subscribing to trade magazines and followed film advertisements closely to see who is getting ‘inspired’,” says the screenwriter who asked not to be named.

Once that happened, Bollywood fell in line. ‘Official remake’ replaced ‘inspiration’. The deals were fairer than before. For instance, in 2012, AbbasMustan directed Players, an official remake of The Italian Job. One writer, tongue firmly in cheek, describes that to me as a classic case of ‘Sau choohe khaa ke billi Haj ko chali ‘(Having eat-

en a hundred mice, the cat goes on pilgrimage)—a reference that doesn’t require subtitles for those aware of the duo’s notorious reputation for lifting Hollywood thrillers.

Nevertheless, according to the unnamed writer, here’s how the authorised Hollywood remake model works: “Most Hollywood studios have a vast library of films, including American and foreign blockbusters. Whenever they tie up with an Indian studio, they offer them access to their library. Like, Viacom 18 has a Paramount Pictures connect, while UTV merged with Disney, so it is bound to have access to Disney titles. Whenever the studios think an American hit can be remade successfully into Hindi, they pitch it to directors who either work with them regularly or share a close working partnership.”

A swift glance at the Viacom 18 website’s ‘about’ section confirms that. It reads: ‘Paramount Pictures Corporation provides audiences access to a huge library of top films through brands like Paramount Pictures, Paramount Vantage, MTV Films, Nickelodeon Movies, DreamWorks and Paramount Home Entertainment.’

However, most writers I spoke to agreed on one thing: nothing is original, so what’s all the fuss about? “Only a fool can be absolutely original,” Khan declares. Originality, he adds, “is the art of concealing the source”.

“For Deewaar, we took Gunga Jumna’s plot and On the Waterfront’s background but not a single scene was a straight lift.” Likewise: “Hollywood made The Magnificent Seven out of [Akira] Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai. We took a bit from The Magnificent Seven and came up with Sholay.”

There is also no formula for anything—“except in the case of Coca-Cola and Pepsi, which produce one bottle and keep producing the same bottle from the same formula” for years.

“You cannot apply the same formula to films,” Khan says.

“And there is an example in front of us,” he concludes, referring to the Zanjeer debacle. Be that as it may, it looks like Bollywood is ready for a shake-up—with or without formula. n open www.openthemagazine.com 59

science

electric eels These freshwater predators can generate an electrical charge of up to 600 volts— five times the power of a standard US wall socket—in order to stun prey and keep other predators at bay

Size Matters Why men with large testicles are poor parents

A New Genus of Electric Fish

A

new study has found that the

size of a man’s testicles has an influence on how good a father he tends to be. According to the study, which was conducted by researchers of Emory University in Atlanta, US, and published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, those with smaller testicles tend to be better parents than those with large ones. The researchers argue that this occurs because of an evolutionary trade off—either focus on mating or put that energy into raising children.

A total of 70 men were studied for this research. They were all living with their partners and had children aged between one and two. The researchers probed the men on details of their parenting. They also showed the men photographs of their children and analysed their brain activity while they were doing so, by using an MRI scanner. The researchers then measured the participants’ testicles, and from their blood samples measured their testosterone levels. The sizes of their testicles varied considerably—from those that were a little more than a tablespoon in volume to those as large as a quarter cup.

60 open

MRI scans revealed that those with smaller testicles tended to display a greater response in the reward area of the brain than those with larger ones upon seeing their children’s faces. The interviews with the men and their partners also revealed that those with smaller testicles were more active in carrying out parenting duties. The men with bigger testicles had a relatively hands-off parenting style. They also tended to have higher testosterone levels.

The researchers claim that larger testicles are linked with higher testosterone levels and sperm counts as well as increased promiscuity.

Thus some men are biologically predisposed to being poor fathers.

They argue that their findings suggest that humans are subject to an evolutionary principle called Life History Theory. This theory states that males tend to make a trade-off between investing their effort in fertilising females and helping rear offspring. The study, however, assumes that testes size does not change after becoming a father.

However, many people believe that men’s testicles shrink with age and their testosterone levels go down once they become fathers. n

According to a study in the journal Zoologica Scripta, a new genus of electric fish has been identified in a remote region of South America by a team of international researchers. The Akawaio penak, a thin, eel-like electric fish, was discovered in the shallow, murky waters of the upper Mazaruni River in northern Guyana. ‘Like other electric knifefish, Akawaio penak has a long organ running along the base of the body that produces an electric field. The electric field is too weak to stun prey but is instead used to navigate, detect objects and to communicate with other electric fish. This trait is advantageous given the murky habitats of the fish,’ says the report. The species is named in honour of the Akawaio Amerindians who live in the upper Mazaruni. n

Toxic Childhood Stress

A UCLA-led study published online by Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences claims that there is a significant link between reports of childhood abuse and multisystem health risks. And those who reported higher amounts of parental warmth and affection in their childhood had lower multisystem health risks. The researchers also found that individuals reporting low levels of love and affection and high levels of abuse in childhood had the highest multisystem risk in adulthood.

They suggest that toxic childhood stress alters neural responses to stress, boosting the emotional and physical arousal to threat and making it harder for that reaction to be contained. They, however, note that the findings do not prove causation. n

14 october 2013

ethernet The run length of individual Ethernet cables is limited to roughly 100 metres, but Ethernet networks can be easily extended to link entire schools or office buildings with the use of ‘network bridge’ devices

tech&style

HP Envy Rove 20 This is a portable desktop—an all-in-one PC that doubles as a giant tablet gagandeep Singh Sapra

Casio Edifice w Watch ERA-200

Rs 14,995

Rs 69,990

The new ERA-200 is an addition to Casio’s Edifice Active Racing Line series. It has a direction sensor, wherein with a press of its compass button, the second hand immediately points north, no matter what mode the watch is in. It also has a bearing memory that saves a preset destination bearing; a full range of stopwatch functions, including a 1/100-second stopwatch and split time mode. The results are displayed in both digital and analog formats. n

W

ith a 20-inch display , HP’s Rove can be called an oversized tablet or a portable all-in-one PC that weighs about 6 kg. In a day and age where we have more than one such device, having an all-in-one that works as a portable tablet too may not seem like the most compelling idea, but when you use it, you start thinking of various uses for it.

The Rove has a sturdy hinged popup stand that also works as a handle. You can flatten it down to 180° on your dining table and play ping-pong till dinner is laid, or put it back on the stand and make a Skype call or use it as a desktop PC. You can operate for about three hours on its internal battery, so this desktop is portable and does not require a UPS. Using an Intel 4th generation Core i3 CPU that uses a fanless design, the Rove manages to accomplish most of the operations you want with a computer, though this is not the most powerful desktops out there and its 4 GB of RAM may stagger a few applications. Rove also features 3 USB 3.0 ports, a headphone/microphone 14 october 2013

jack and a volume control rocker. There is an SD card slot, and just like an Apple iPad, it also has a button that lets you change the orientation of the display. There is no optical drive or Ethernet port. It has 1 Terabyte of storage using a hybrid drive that gives you a much higher speed than conventional ones. Stereo speakers with Beats Audio ensures that you get rich audio.

The 20-inch display is an HD+ display, with a 1600 x 900 LED resolution. The display has rich colours and sharp graphics. It also supports 10-point touch, and has Intel HD graphics to power all this.

Rove does not have the most powerful graphics or processing capacity, but Windows 8 apps work seamlessly, and average day-to-day work is easily done on this machine. The advantages of a 20-inch tablet become evident here: you get a full-sized machine that can work as a desktop and convert to laptop mode for social and gaming applications. Also, just think of the space a desktop takes and the clunky UPS that it needs. n

Nikon Coolpix S02

Rs 8,450

One of the lightest and smallest digital cameras, the S02 features a 13.2 megapixel sensor, a high performance Nikkor Lens, and a very responsive 2.7-inch touch screen monitor. The lens offer 3x optical zoom and can shoot 1080p videos. The S02 comes with only a built-in memory of 7.3GB and there is no card to be connected or battery to be taken out to charge—it uses a USB connection to charge and transfer data back to your computer. The S02 is available in silver, white, pink and blue options. n Gagandeep Singh Sapra is The Big Geek at System3. He can be reached at gadgets@openmedianetwork.in

open www.openthemagazine.com 61

CINEMA

rapper s who refused Matt Damon was not Neill Blomkamp’s first choice to play Max in Elysium. The director first offered it to Ninja of the South African rap-rave act Die Antwoord, who didn’t want to play a character with an American accent in his first big film. He asked Eminem next, who wanted it shot in Detroit, which was not okay

Prisoners An intelligently written film that plays on a universal fear and holds your attention ajit duara

o n scr een

current

Elysium Director Neill Blomkamp cast Matt Damon, Jodie Foster,

Sharlto Copley Score ★★★★★

an, jake Cast hugh jackm gyllenhaal villeneuve Director denis

T

his is a terrifying film, not so much because of its suspense, but because of its complex morality. We often forget that the most important text for Americans is not the US Constitution but the Bible. This is a story of how one winter, on Thanksgiving, two little girls of neighbouring families are kidnapped, and the insane desperation to which one of the fathers is driven.

God, the belief thereof, is on the side of both the perpetrators and the victims. The variation is in the interpretation of the text. When the main suspect, a mentally-challenged man with the mind of a child, is released on lack of evidence, Keller Dover (Hugh Jackman) decides to take the law into his own hands; he kidnaps and tortures the suspect to find out where his little daughter and her friend are.

During this repugnant act, Keller keeps reciting verses from the text, and the tone in which he verbalises these gentle and beautifully written lines is full of anger and hatred. In parallel runs the story of the rationalist police 62 open

officer in charge of the investigation, Detective Loki (Jake Gyllenhaal), and though he follows the kidnapping trail like a ruthless bloodhound, he retains his humanity and kindness towards both victims and suspects. Only in one instance does his mind snap, and in that one act of madness a tragedy takes place that traumatises him and thwarts his search temporarily.

The disappearance of children in broad daylight, in their own neighbourhood, playing outside their own homes, is terrifying. And not just for parents. Prisoners makes full use of this universal dread, but what prevents it from turning into an exploitation film is the moral position that the script offers and the realisation that ‘evil’ is not something located somewhere far away, but often right within one’s own community.

This is an intelligently written film that features good performances by Hugh Jackman and Jake Gyllenhaal. It holds you to your seat for its two-anda-half hour duration. n

‘Elysium’ is a Greek concept of the afterlife, described in Homer’s Odyssey, and most beautifully referred to in ‘the Choral’ of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, taken from Schiller’s poem, ‘Ode to Joy’.

Here ‘Elysium’ is an expression of the brotherhood of man, and it is in this particular sense that this sci-fi film is conceived. In the year 2154, the rich live in a space station above earth called Elysium and the poor live down on our slummy planet—now a police state run by robots and managed by the Corporation that runs Elysium as an exclusive club, free of disease and poverty.

Max (Matt Damon) lives in and works at an arms manufacturing company in Los Angeles, now a distinctly unglamorous city (what happened to Hollywood?).

He comes in direct conflict with his CEO, John Carlyle, who is involved in a plot to oust President Patel of Elysium. Both names, Carlyle and Patel, are amusing, as if picked to indicate global capitalists of the future.

As a boy, Max was told by a nun that he would have an impact on the world when he grew up. Does the prophesy come true? Is he the ‘messiah’, here to establish a genuine brotherhood of man? A nicely visualised but an unconvincing and all-too-predictable film. n ad

14 october 2013

Not People Like Us

R aj e e v M asa n d

Alia’s Thing For Ranbir

After Kareena Kapoor begged out of the project months ago, it seems there may be more casting speed-bumps for the Balaji-Dharma co-production starring Emraan Hashmi.

Now one hears Deepika Padukone, who’d committed to starring in the film after Kareena bowed out, may also make an exit. Sources in the trade reveal that Deepika had reportedly signed the film only as a ‘thank you’ gesture to her Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani producer Karan Johar, but after repeated delays in the film’s production, and her own meteoric rise to the top order, the actress now simply doesn’t have the dates to accommodate the film in her scheme of things.

There’s a very good chance she’ll be replaced by Johar’s Student of the Year discovery and Dharma Productions’ favourite in-house newcomer Alia Bhatt. The pint-sized actress, whose performance in Imtiaz Ali’s yet-to-be-released Highway has got an early buzz going, is being hailed as the Next Big Thing by Johar, who has cast her opposite Arjun Kapoor in his adaptation of Chetan Bhagat’s 2 States, and also in a new romcom opposite Varun Dhawan titled Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhaniya.

But the actor Alia reportedly has a massive crush on and can’t wait to work with is Ranbir Kapoor, who has himself been raving about her work in Highway after his Rockstar director Imtiaz Ali organised a special screening for him.

When Ranbir Met Zoya

Ranbir Kapoor, who’s completed roughly 50 per cent of the shoot for Anurag Kashyap’s Bombay Velvet, says the film doesn’t compromise the filmmaker’s trademark dark underpinnings but it will likely be more accessible than some of his recent outings. “Anurag’s films, until now, have been mostly festival movies: for Cannes, Toronto, Rome.

But he’s been saying he’s making this one for Indian festivals: for Diwali, Christmas, Eid,” quips the actor, hinting at the broad appeal that Anurag is hoping Bombay Velvet will have among local audiences.

Meanwhile, I have it from reliable sources that Ranbir, who famously turned down both Zoya Akhtar’s Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara and her next project (a planned brother-sis14 october 2013

ter drama opposite Kareena Kapoor) invited the director out for a drink when they both happened to be in London recently, and clarified that he had no problems with her whatsoever. He reportedly asked her not to be upset with or mad at him, if she was, and explained that he was in the mood for more ‘commercial’ films. Zoya Akhtar apparently insisted she’d nursed no hard feelings towards him, and said she understood his reservations.

By the time you’re reading this, Ranbir will be in New York where he’s holidaying with Katrina Kaif, his buddy and Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani director Ayan Mukherji, and Karan Johar who’s been in the Big Apple for several days.

Ranbir told me last week that the repeated invasion of his private life means he will travel more and more each year in his spare time.

The Case of a Purse Aversely Laid

At her friend’s wedding in Chennai recently, a popular star kid and upcoming actress reportedly behaved like a spoilt brat in full public view of revellers, becoming the talk of the evening. The light-eyed up-n-comer is believed to have blasted one of the groom’s friends when she came off stage after performing in the sangeet. Insisting she had left her purse with the young fellow when she went up to dance, the actress lost her temper at him when he said she hadn’t handed him her purse. “I had two iPhones in that purse. How could you be so irresponsible?” she allegedly barked at him in the presence of dozens of their friends.

Humiliated, the gentleman in question insisted he hadn’t so much as seen her purse, and asked her to think hard if she might have left it with someone else. More screaming ensued before she huffed and puffed and left the spot angrily. Friends consoled the visibly shaken victim of her temper, and before the end of the evening, the actress found her purse in the safe custody of an acquaintance with whom she’d apparently left it. The contents were intact too.

She didn’t bother making an apology to the young man she’d been so nasty to. That was left for her embarrassed friends to do on her behalf. n Rajeev Masand is entertainment editor and film critic at CNN-IBN open www.openthemagazine.com 63

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Saying Yes to Pool, No to Drugs

by r au l i r a n i

Snooker is a popular pastime among young slumdwellers of Janta Mazdoor Colony in Jafrabad, Delhi. The game has been reinvented among local Muslim youth as ‘Saifi’.

Akram Chaudhury, owner of Arman Snooker Pool Club, one of two pool halls in the colony, believes Saifi is a positive influence on the locality’s youth, helping keep them away from drugs

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14 october 2013