tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9822482237056941472024-03-06T11:43:18.762+05:30Not Too RandomUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-12905555726810935482024-01-01T20:28:00.001+05:302024-01-02T07:23:41.367+05:30Dreaming of Ladakh
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY85ZUvlK1QdIOJZgYhcOknfW94MGzB_DU8BTqM8fxq5fKvKeqQ88y6yL3Cl87Mv9_E0dkkgsKLil1yxl4vcs1-8Cjbcms1oFkLkEaLBxXKXicXG8UmDGHUVre2_cYNSCVnK_cC0CWZ2mHH2K318hSfT7Te55eo__yYFJncxJjlXB7N8DsOVg2L8yw3bI/s2592/1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="2592" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY85ZUvlK1QdIOJZgYhcOknfW94MGzB_DU8BTqM8fxq5fKvKeqQ88y6yL3Cl87Mv9_E0dkkgsKLil1yxl4vcs1-8Cjbcms1oFkLkEaLBxXKXicXG8UmDGHUVre2_cYNSCVnK_cC0CWZ2mHH2K318hSfT7Te55eo__yYFJncxJjlXB7N8DsOVg2L8yw3bI/w400-h299/1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">Ladakh is a
place of distances. Not just because of the time it can take to get from one
place to another, but also because it’s a place that can challenge you to
expand your mind. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">It’s a place of
varied vistas — snow, rock, dust, greenery, sand, water. And everywhere,
mountains. And the expansive sky. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKJx8pYYMfUHVsKBwkUuN6zjEN_Vd9oJyUH9pxoK_HT8J3eXCUmjtBnvqpKKHQA1JjXIvG1k_Wi2YOOGVn75m0mSbR6Tb84rBQy1u2qpFUFq2FJNROImRWDmslNuy5XVnELdu0eJmfzB6kupNioCXtI-jNYnR3aA9ke6NctYUsYaJYpYqjB35R2zTQ6Y/s2592/3.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="2592" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKJx8pYYMfUHVsKBwkUuN6zjEN_Vd9oJyUH9pxoK_HT8J3eXCUmjtBnvqpKKHQA1JjXIvG1k_Wi2YOOGVn75m0mSbR6Tb84rBQy1u2qpFUFq2FJNROImRWDmslNuy5XVnELdu0eJmfzB6kupNioCXtI-jNYnR3aA9ke6NctYUsYaJYpYqjB35R2zTQ6Y/w320-h238/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Once you leave
the main settlements — towns like Leh and Kargil or villages like Nimoo and
Alchi — Ladakh often feels boundless, perhaps as vast as the universe. But it’s
a companionable vastness; a bit like being in a pub full of friendly strangers.
</span></span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKw46aAMT0Cdd-Qw5IhEvlXzKwx05WyEAlxX6M3uUDDWlBl4-09hJIxTilFhxhmTJD9N5FmqI0AfTKYu75pWJItWWKAYXSRK16Vkv6-an-E0vL_SmAZ5E58XAW6zejEDQLviqFc5eFFm3Al7WWke4jPdE1h0XptecVLMvcZ6-r5ArIaisn5N5hz9yzGII/s1936/2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="1936" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKw46aAMT0Cdd-Qw5IhEvlXzKwx05WyEAlxX6M3uUDDWlBl4-09hJIxTilFhxhmTJD9N5FmqI0AfTKYu75pWJItWWKAYXSRK16Vkv6-an-E0vL_SmAZ5E58XAW6zejEDQLviqFc5eFFm3Al7WWke4jPdE1h0XptecVLMvcZ6-r5ArIaisn5N5hz9yzGII/w320-h320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">
</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">On some journeys
you’re sandwiched in a snaking convoy of olive green; army trucks carrying
people and supplies across the region. On other roads you can go for an hour or
more without encountering another human. Sometimes, it’s unclear where the road
is and you decide it’s wherever your vehicle is! </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">Often, it all
feels very profound. The immense never-ending sky, the chortens, the
monasteries perched far up the side of a mountain, the ever-present
five-coloured prayer flags snapping in the wind, lines of prayer wheels, the
Indus or one of its tributaries meandering alongside the road. So much so that
you begin to believe that in a moment or two the meaning of life will be
revealed to you and that eternity is around the corner. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">And then, around
the corner, is an egg yolk-yellow road sign that declares ‘Be gentle on my
curves’.<span> </span></span></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_BwBKGQ9kfL_d3cM0JSzBH5OF2v3cxSmwaMjehBIcb1rwWMsDfitWhtAgLTRvdq5u5etYhgT5xzy7Jq2kfa5nAfy8cF2NdP8IsSm85bQNk1ISQybMD7Dm8L95vKHx7UMsi30sOqDtrV1Up6nMKqKNqw2vDrRJvjF0LWKBsL4Dnjjn9MrZK4ZAidi47Y/s2592/4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1936" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_BwBKGQ9kfL_d3cM0JSzBH5OF2v3cxSmwaMjehBIcb1rwWMsDfitWhtAgLTRvdq5u5etYhgT5xzy7Jq2kfa5nAfy8cF2NdP8IsSm85bQNk1ISQybMD7Dm8L95vKHx7UMsi30sOqDtrV1Up6nMKqKNqw2vDrRJvjF0LWKBsL4Dnjjn9MrZK4ZAidi47Y/w239-h320/4.jpg" width="239" /></a></div> <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">But as Robert
Louis Stevenson wrote in a 1878 essay titled <i>El Dorado</i>: “Little do ye
know your own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to
arrive, and the true success is to labour.” </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">So, it’s best to
suspend all thought and luxuriate in Ladakh. In its people, food, history,
culture and those vistas that bridge distances.<span> </span></span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><style><span style="font-family: arial;">@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</span></style></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-80084799422684125652023-12-31T17:36:00.004+05:302024-01-02T07:22:34.926+05:30Lessons?<p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDUVca34k619-Xnq014j_40DpHOygdZ5FK09M7atrTOhDwVkrtCfwBK30eSj5H2n_gZ2UKr72fzNlcjKqZM_AuQOxhDATxGwNLWG5A1XBibmy_wyYjgKW1l1vCxMoMYMa08Vn2b-jgUmnXKn-tdemVp2TqBrnHGG30FM7f6OYjGwUHCqFcS1yj0xnDD4/s1323/1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1323" data-original-width="1260" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdDUVca34k619-Xnq014j_40DpHOygdZ5FK09M7atrTOhDwVkrtCfwBK30eSj5H2n_gZ2UKr72fzNlcjKqZM_AuQOxhDATxGwNLWG5A1XBibmy_wyYjgKW1l1vCxMoMYMa08Vn2b-jgUmnXKn-tdemVp2TqBrnHGG30FM7f6OYjGwUHCqFcS1yj0xnDD4/w305-h320/1.jpg" width="305" /></a></span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Sleep was
elusive. But daybreak was still some way off. And counting sheep has never
worked for me. So, I let my mind wander. And as it flitted from thing to thing,
I found myself wondering “have I learnt anything this year.” And then, I
drifted off into Somnus’ embrace once more.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">In the morning,
I found myself returning to the question: “What have I learnt this year.” My
instinctive response was “not much.” But the more I thought about it, the more
I realised that I had learnt — relearnt rather — a few things this year. Most
of these are rather mundane, the sort of mental and physical housekeeping that
fills our lives. Two ideas stand out though because they were reinforced this
year. There’s nothing original about them, but they are my top lessons of the
year.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"><b>Know where you
are:</b> It’s important to know where we are. And it’s desirable to know where we’d
like to be. And I don’t mean this in a cartographic or geographical sense
alone. This is not to say we should keep evaluating ourselves or our lives
every moment. But it is useful to take stock once in a while. And if we find
that where we are is where we’d like to be, I guess that would be as close to
heaven as we can get on earth.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"><b>Change doesn’t
have to be sweeping:</b> Change may be the only constant in life. And occasionally,
drastic change may be required. Much of the time though, </span><span>the aggregation of marginal gains can be just
as revolutionary.</span> <span>Small continuous
improvements or changes can achieve much — often unnoticed —</span> <span lang="EN-GB">without the trauma and uncertainty that typically accompany a forced,
sweeping move. The key is to keep responding to our environment, making the
tweaks required to make things better.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Finally,
learning is not a destination but a process, a journey. As is relearning. <span></span></span></span></p>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"><span></span></span></span></span><div>
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{page:WordSection1;}</font></style></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-25131404613706944912022-12-28T11:12:00.003+05:302024-01-02T07:24:18.975+05:30Form with function <div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoRNYjqJlj2XcyyNhXa68KlwlsaXysKl57VfJEnT5D5l_CBcgSD1i-Zjt8AiiuTD_sY2q6JZ85hW4F8ZLi_b9X0vvIbHbkufhEs4l2z7UXP6uV8fFbiZHWbbsIGYun0wEkbIr7wlH-pdJhGNkEoJ8bVO_DecQ6nlfB2LZ8X40JtTH0eC1yqx7iRFb/s2321/1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2321" data-original-width="1659" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoRNYjqJlj2XcyyNhXa68KlwlsaXysKl57VfJEnT5D5l_CBcgSD1i-Zjt8AiiuTD_sY2q6JZ85hW4F8ZLi_b9X0vvIbHbkufhEs4l2z7UXP6uV8fFbiZHWbbsIGYun0wEkbIr7wlH-pdJhGNkEoJ8bVO_DecQ6nlfB2LZ8X40JtTH0eC1yqx7iRFb/w143-h200/1.jpg" width="143" /></a></div>I’m not an expert in design. But I’ve always believed that design should be about <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Form_follows_function">form <b>and </b>function</a>. Though I’m also fine with function being a heartbeat ahead of form.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">It is, of course, helpful if the things we use are pleasing to look at. And it certainly helps with product differentiation — and a company’s sales figures — to design things that are attractive. But should this be at the expense of the product doing what it is meant to?</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Something that looks fantastic, but does not do what it is supposed to with a minimum of fuss is, in my book, not very useful.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Some weeks ago, I received a <a href="https://www.fabindia.com/">Fabindia</a> gift card, which was a thoughtful gesture since I use the company’s products. In fact, I’ve found these gift cards to be the perfect present, particularly when I know the recipient enjoys the Fabindia aesthetic.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">These gift cards were rectangles of elegantly designed thick-ish paper, with the card’s value printed on one face. On the same face, the date on which the card was bought and the date on which it expired — usually one year from the date of purchase — was either handwritten or stamped with an ink stamp. And on the reverse were the ‘terms and conditions’ for using the card. It was all very straightforward: with a glance you knew how much each card was worth and exactly when its validity would end.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoEtO_1YYlTBBZUeA-_JZ1BrQdmTpAYTuEnCvzoEJvHPaTJKveXOHc65cgEM_19Gq0qfOucG-ixUMD9N0JH_tFQ4phElNxIuKsRrmasPa6wWHBQRuiRq2E-Y42w4i5wHvLcZChO5eT3DH21_Sh_lGUpxIsWwpqnCbCrz6-ymqVslF2FQF_WRbiLXN/s2732/2.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2732" data-original-width="1831" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoEtO_1YYlTBBZUeA-_JZ1BrQdmTpAYTuEnCvzoEJvHPaTJKveXOHc65cgEM_19Gq0qfOucG-ixUMD9N0JH_tFQ4phElNxIuKsRrmasPa6wWHBQRuiRq2E-Y42w4i5wHvLcZChO5eT3DH21_Sh_lGUpxIsWwpqnCbCrz6-ymqVslF2FQF_WRbiLXN/w134-h200/2.jpg" width="134" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">But the FabGift Card, as it’s called, I recently received is very different. It’s a carton that’s slightly larger than a matchbox, and comes with a little ribbon loop. You pull on the ribbon to open the box and inside is a credit-card sized rectangle of cardboard topped by sliver of buttery paper with the Fabindia logo. One face of the card has a design with the FabGift logo worked in and on the other is a five-point list of ‘terms and conditions’, a number and barcode and a scratch strip (that I later discovered hides a code you need to enter when you use the card).</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">It looks very nice and compact.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">There is one problem though. You have absolutely no idea how much the card is worth and till when it is valid. The ‘terms and conditions’ declare it can be used for a year from the date of purchase. But then you have no idea of the date on which it was bought. So…</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">The only way to figure out how much the card is worth and when it expires is to ask the person who gave you the gift or to go to a Fabindia store and get the staff to unearth this information for you. Rather complicated!</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">It could, perhaps, be argued that we really don’t need to know much the card is worth or exactly when it expires, since we know it’s valid for a year. But I believe this information matters.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Most of us aren’t going to rush off to the Fabindia website or a store and buy something the moment we get the card. Chances are we’ll put it away, intending to use it later. But with memory being a slippery character, we could forget about it or forget when we got it. However, if we know exactly when it expires, setting up a specific reminder becomes so much easier. And it’s always useful to know how much money there’s on the card so we can plan our shopping expedition. Also, knowing how much is on the FabGift Card and till when it’s valid means we can even gift it to someone else.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuUjTectN0wsTnbLhGTiXdpQXr0QwzIdyQATppoWX_1qdf8HwOTqeItmPoaZPdq2uskJRcM2-sgsejdFLT6YlvZc2J2oL9EM1gekRCReUtiHMuXfifjhmXklLrEcpYwdvROibSiNbolZ-E3y3R97fnlmNH7HfCMZIC0DWdMIjaly6g9qjeRyPC80J/s3264/3.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuUjTectN0wsTnbLhGTiXdpQXr0QwzIdyQATppoWX_1qdf8HwOTqeItmPoaZPdq2uskJRcM2-sgsejdFLT6YlvZc2J2oL9EM1gekRCReUtiHMuXfifjhmXklLrEcpYwdvROibSiNbolZ-E3y3R97fnlmNH7HfCMZIC0DWdMIjaly6g9qjeRyPC80J/w142-h189/3.jpg" width="142" /></a></div>I initially wondered whether I’d received a one-off or customised card. But from what I can discern, this is the new incarnation of the Fabindia gift card.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Of course, the card’s new avatar does have some advantages. For one, it possibly offers a certain flexibility in terms of how much can be loaded onto it and it can be used both in stores and on the website. It’s also probably easier to manage for the company.</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">I assume — always a tricky thing to do — that the gift card’s redesign process was so focused on form that it glossed over function, the card’s utilitarian aspect. However, I suspect that Fabindia can fix this if they want to. Something as simple as repurposing the buttery paper insert to display both the card’s value and validity and inserting this at the point of sale will probably work. The question though is whether Fabindia will do it. </span></span><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-62597765269451578762021-01-31T22:16:00.001+05:302021-01-31T22:16:15.905+05:30Looking back<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jevcNMNWcMgVWx49fi9KonJL508TEwbfZJQ7NazPgw7yVltdUdQSWYdZsPbUh6TRVa9rdliEDo_xra-pEbMm5FR2jz_0_QbRDV_w2iCjstdaMFGngl1u39zHlTQZNY2htTQDGVzxW1A/s1790/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1176" data-original-width="1790" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0jevcNMNWcMgVWx49fi9KonJL508TEwbfZJQ7NazPgw7yVltdUdQSWYdZsPbUh6TRVa9rdliEDo_xra-pEbMm5FR2jz_0_QbRDV_w2iCjstdaMFGngl1u39zHlTQZNY2htTQDGVzxW1A/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">There’s much that is fascinating about Kerala. What I find — or should I say used to find — especially captivating though is how many of the state’s traditional retail spaces were designed. <br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Visiting Kerala in the 1970s and early 80s, and living in Trivandrum from the mid-1980s, it was refreshing to see these unfussy, classic buildings. With their tiled roofs and verandahs that offered protection from the sun and the rain, and often a place to pass the unrelenting hour, these buildings brought a certain character to their neighbourhood.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKXxLIEJHqv4Wwn-axyZZJ9bTDaGTCAvhzor8MsiSJJ5utSYnfeltamtmrXTKdvHu74zY4SHHcJNsf_nbe_J5ocMHgTeX1KorpEH3wd24o5EFveaGpttEtCjlkP5gNqGqUejbYvlNP8Y/s1782/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1169" data-original-width="1782" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKXxLIEJHqv4Wwn-axyZZJ9bTDaGTCAvhzor8MsiSJJ5utSYnfeltamtmrXTKdvHu74zY4SHHcJNsf_nbe_J5ocMHgTeX1KorpEH3wd24o5EFveaGpttEtCjlkP5gNqGqUejbYvlNP8Y/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not all were old, tiled buildings — there were more recent, art deco-ish structures that sprouted among the more traditional-looking ones. But they all radiated a certain charm, despite the odd monstrosity.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz46K9Ri9qSVy_Is7YEC7YO4jZbQJZ7DZljGbGtB2glr11KoTBwtib8AX7HPipzXYZ7qSVwoi_k43VUA7EibzogJc5C0HSF-KU8RzTxosYMmHaqgyPk5Hg8_WWmgOOksx0kEGK7HSgYk/s1636/2a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1147" data-original-width="1636" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbz46K9Ri9qSVy_Is7YEC7YO4jZbQJZ7DZljGbGtB2glr11KoTBwtib8AX7HPipzXYZ7qSVwoi_k43VUA7EibzogJc5C0HSF-KU8RzTxosYMmHaqgyPk5Hg8_WWmgOOksx0kEGK7HSgYk/s320/2a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Especially alluring were the doors that some of these buildings had: Numbered planks of wood that were — at closing time — slotted into a groove and pushed along till they clicked into place and formed a wall of timber. All held together by an iron rod or bar, secured with a padlock.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZYsBBVY8ixhSbzgGzmjFZomn1cyxHx9uWeSgh8ZZ_pOQ_G5EWsazdLjoAmUnscRClXXrrr9tdLtwYdnR2nI-3sAjdkcBjifwR4-Y8YT-u6QZjOGZQCorVfKAsTHWGOaXR7aqw7T6xps/s1766/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1178" data-original-width="1766" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZYsBBVY8ixhSbzgGzmjFZomn1cyxHx9uWeSgh8ZZ_pOQ_G5EWsazdLjoAmUnscRClXXrrr9tdLtwYdnR2nI-3sAjdkcBjifwR4-Y8YT-u6QZjOGZQCorVfKAsTHWGOaXR7aqw7T6xps/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">But change is almost inevitable; arguably the only constant in life. And by the late 1990s, there was much more concrete and mirrored glass across Kerala’s retail landscape.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dt1r1SpN5tm0hGwf14sV6Tx1XFyvuAIbf4A7lp1gzV0J5A0V5l_lcN8rAOBeYfthInhDMWD1hHdiLtMDRg0wMUtR1xwM-xM1yR2d6va42rendhP_6u182__rg-O3Ih1XgC_9-ogzgWE/s1428/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="1428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dt1r1SpN5tm0hGwf14sV6Tx1XFyvuAIbf4A7lp1gzV0J5A0V5l_lcN8rAOBeYfthInhDMWD1hHdiLtMDRg0wMUtR1xwM-xM1yR2d6va42rendhP_6u182__rg-O3Ih1XgC_9-ogzgWE/s320/4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;">Today, many familiar names remain, but in new clothes and sometimes in new locations. And here and there some holdouts linger, with their tiled roofs, jigsaw-puzzle doors and glass jars, enveloped in the faint aroma of time.
</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-74156978521281676192020-06-26T07:58:00.003+05:302022-12-28T11:20:23.971+05:30Inside the novel factory <div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"><i>A version of this was in</i> <b><a href="https://www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/books-grime-in-the-factory/303367" target="_blank">Outlook</a></b></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AOquujxYxskvhS_pnxzcWJEMFjN4GWr6kUb-JgS3Muj9203NSbMo_8Up2lstGXsGI_1Zsu3uihBVcilHwKtUuSCJvpb6IKDKhl7nGKo-XaTQ_wTU1-F8GKAchFEmadsXfykb45Q3ICw/s1600/All.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_AOquujxYxskvhS_pnxzcWJEMFjN4GWr6kUb-JgS3Muj9203NSbMo_8Up2lstGXsGI_1Zsu3uihBVcilHwKtUuSCJvpb6IKDKhl7nGKo-XaTQ_wTU1-F8GKAchFEmadsXfykb45Q3ICw/s320/All.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">For over half a century, the ‘Gulf’ has been
Eldorado for the people of South Asia, particularly Kerala. As the narrator in <a href="https://www.juggernaut.in/books/al-arabian-novel-factory" target="_blank"><i>Al Arabian Novel Factory</i></a> reflects, “God
blesses some small Arab country with petrol dollars. And then a tiny sliver of
land far away gets to enjoy some of those blessings… There was a long and
lonely road between the two lands, and it could tell many stories of
sacrifice.</span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">It is these stories of sacrifice, toil,
humiliation, deprivation, loneliness, despair and alienation of the ‘Gulf
Malayali’, and the wider immigrant community, that Benny Daniel — who writes as
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benyamin_(writer)" target="_blank">Benyamin</a> — chronicles in much of his writing. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Over the years, especially in Malayalam,
there have been books and films on the Gulf immigrant experience. But few of
these capture the granular details of immigrant life in the region with
authenticity. And it’s these granular details that Benyamin writes about with
authority, perhaps because he was, himself, a Gulf Malayali for over two
decades. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">With almost a score of books across genres
to his name, Benyamin explores a world that is familiar to Kerala, but also
alien, especially the darker side of that world. He received widespread
recognition with his award-winning 2008 Malayalam novel <i>Aadujeevitham,</i> translated into English as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Goat_Days" target="_blank"><i>Goat Days</i></a>, and soon to be a Malayalam film. Since then, he’s
returned regularly to his known turf<span> </span>— facets
of immigrant life in the Gulf and the complicated relationships that entwine
the locals and the ‘guest’ workers who keep Arab nations ticking. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">At first glance, <i>Al Arabian Novel Factory</i> seems to have a simple narrative. Pratap,
an Indian-Canadian journalist, travels to a West Asian country known only as
the ‘City’, ruled by an authoritarian regime<span style="color: #3366ff;">.</span>
He’s ostensibly there to helm a research project. But his real objective is to
reconnect with Jasmine, his onetime lover, who lives in the City and is an
elusive but constant presence through the book. In the City, his life tangles
with the lives of his team members and also with the tortuous journey of <i>A Spring Without Fragrance</i>, a mysterious
manuscript written by Sameera Parvin, a radio jockey who once lived there. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">But appearances can be deceptive: Though a
standalone novel, <i>Al Arabian Novel
Factory</i> is also a companion volume to Benyamin’s <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jasmine_Days" target="_blank"><i>Jasmine Days</i></a> (<i>Mullappoo
Niramulla Pakalukal</i> in Malayalam). Positioned as <i>Jasmine Days’ </i>sequel, it could just as easily be a ‘prequel-sequel’
hybrid. So intensely interwoven are the narrative strands and devices that
connect the books that it does get a little convoluted at times. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Both novels though, are set against the
backdrop of the Arab Spring, with this one focusing on the period immediately
after. It captures the immigrant experience, but the immigrant here is mostly
the comfortably off one. The sort who sings praise songs for the City’s
despotic ruler while hosting a workshop on ‘socialism-driven freedom in
Kerala’; the immigrant who is a ‘socialist’ at heart, but lives a capitalist
life.<span> </span></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Translated from the Malayalam by Shahnaz
Habib, the book also tackles other themes including freedom of speech, thought
and action; minority rights; and women’s rights. And looming over everything
that happens is the all-seeing City, a character in itself. Habib’s translation
is always competent and occasionally exquisite, capturing the nuances and
cadences of the original; I must confess that I could occasionally visualise
the original Malayalam line as I read the English version. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Sometimes, in factories, things can go out
of kilter and so do things in this novel factory — not seriously awry, though.
The narrative tends to meander occasionally. Also puzzling are some sections,
particularly those in which Pratap behaves somewhat naively despite his
journalistic experience. You could attribute it to the pangs of love, but one
method he explores to trace Jasmine is far-fetched, stupid even, if not
downright dangerous. Perhaps it was intended as a narrative device, but it seemed
rather off.<span> </span></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">What is disconcerting is the depiction of
some female characters. They’re portrayed as unaware of and uninterested in
little beyond their immediate surroundings and passions. Knowing the many
informed, opinionated and worldly-wise women around us, even among the
demographics presented in the novel, this characterisation seems baffling.
This, even as several male characters, at times, appear misogynistic.</span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">Perhaps, it is all a pointer towards one of the
book’s takeaways — that we are all flawed beings. Or that glittering facades
often hide messy secrets and disguise dreary, grasping lives where
self-interest reigns supreme. As Pratap says: “I have always been curious about
the City, how it rose out of dust like an enchanted land in a fairy tale.” More
than anything else, <i>Al Arabian Novel
Factory</i> reminds us that there are no fairy tales.
</span></span></span></div>
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{page:WordSection1;}</font></span></style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-52263331402727651422020-06-24T21:53:00.002+05:302022-12-28T11:21:01.756+05:30The bells of St Clement’s <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw84m-1I4CElUwWWycrjc2nRL9lMvOYCFPy58ewvQt0i_9p8MR3imG5EwM48xQFGhSGrCd53MgV46Srwndm5HEK1EKo-pPwrfQ6J3if6z82E5h3RmoZZH-H5RjGoZIRKbGH05-SEYf-ts/s1600/1.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw84m-1I4CElUwWWycrjc2nRL9lMvOYCFPy58ewvQt0i_9p8MR3imG5EwM48xQFGhSGrCd53MgV46Srwndm5HEK1EKo-pPwrfQ6J3if6z82E5h3RmoZZH-H5RjGoZIRKbGH05-SEYf-ts/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">It seemed appropriate. Commemorate the
anniversary of my father’s passing in a place associated with aviation —
something he devoted much of his adult life to, while in the Indian Air Force
(IAF) — that was also a place of reflection and spirituality. <a href="https://www.raf.mod.uk/our-organisation/units/st-clement-danes-church/" target="_blank">St Clement Danes</a>,
the central church of the Royal Air Force (RAF), in London was the perfect spot
to be in.</span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">I stumbled across St Clement Danes several
months earlier, on the website of the <a href="https://www.rafmuseum.org.uk/research/online-exhibitions/lest-we-forget/st-clement-danes-the-central-church-of-the-royal-air-force.aspx" target="_blank">RAF Museum</a>, and realised that I’d passed the
church several times without noticing it. Perhaps I’d overlooked it because of the
scaffolding that cocooned it then. Or perhaps it was its location on an island,
buffeted by streams of vehicles, just where the Strand and Fleet Street meet. </span></span></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKS5xjSFgF0nQivehQk-xJW6fM92D5_UYFV746Dwyjq6IZ9vMJWfraUXqPocfg5jbMBHT_4X3V21ieR5HVwMJqLhQv9v32OGhCDS0Q_iP3r9K8aCtw6G0M8pH72OWX2-jAkjwaAJYeZI8/s1600/2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKS5xjSFgF0nQivehQk-xJW6fM92D5_UYFV746Dwyjq6IZ9vMJWfraUXqPocfg5jbMBHT_4X3V21ieR5HVwMJqLhQv9v32OGhCDS0Q_iP3r9K8aCtw6G0M8pH72OWX2-jAkjwaAJYeZI8/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Inside, though, the sounds of modern-day
London fade and the hush enfolds you. On a sunny early spring morning, it’s a glorious
sight — light pouring in through the windows, including the magnificent stained
glass one behind the altar; the white vaulted ceiling with its gilded
flourishes; the radiant golden ceiling of the apse; the slate floor inlaid with
several hundred unit, squadron and other formation badges stretching up the
nave to the altar; colours and squadron standards displayed in various places;
and the gleaming pews with cartouches (of various Chiefs of the Air Staff) fixed
at their ends. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIjjSgavARSCeZGSQHz8A9tHg4Gq5-ZcRxJ8kXIwcNzSdOPHe8XLwy-30TI0Biw4QGOCw8zhyx-F-cfuekE3drXKta0zpxaSEZFmFcVk2-mYvAq1v1AI4UxdZxGq9IWPrNyTblyXQaUw/s1600/3.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIjjSgavARSCeZGSQHz8A9tHg4Gq5-ZcRxJ8kXIwcNzSdOPHe8XLwy-30TI0Biw4QGOCw8zhyx-F-cfuekE3drXKta0zpxaSEZFmFcVk2-mYvAq1v1AI4UxdZxGq9IWPrNyTblyXQaUw/s200/3.jpg" width="200" /></a><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">A church has stood on the site for centuries;
with the first one reportedly established by Danes living in the area. The
present building, by Sir Christopher Wren, was completed in 1682, but was
terribly damaged during the <a href="https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/the-blitz-around-britain" target="_blank">Blitz</a>. By the late 1950s, St Clement Danes was restored
and became the RAF’s central church. It is also believed to be the church
referred to in the English nursery rhyme “Oranges and lemons/ Say the bells of
St Clement's.” And indeed, the church’s bells do ring the tune through the day.
</span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">On the floor, as you enter the nave, is a
ring of badges of eight Commonwealth air forces around the insignia of the RAF.
And one of those eight badges is of the Indian Air Force. Other references to
India can be found across St Clement Danes, especially in the unit badges laid
into the floor. There is, for instance, the 152 ‘Hyderabad’ Squadron, with a turban
in its insignia. According to the squadron’s <a href="http://www.152hyderabad.co.uk/html/history.html" target="_blank">tribute website</a>, 152 was the gift
squadron of Hyderabad and took as its badge the headdress of the erstwhile
Nizam of Hyderabad. Formed in 1918, the squadron was disbanded in 1919, but
reformed in 1939 and operated in India between 1943 and 1947.</span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKnk9CXp8aeDgvZE5zFf1-sMsEIsC3gpNOsxYDGMqEgcc2CVMB9pD24k3KQSrTS7Q6-7OVtC8IDrRa7cQfSC5cr318lt5tQA-w-ituJYKo4lB41G3L0ubq_n-hzgJ4UpOL1sgt6YPUp4/s1600/4.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKnk9CXp8aeDgvZE5zFf1-sMsEIsC3gpNOsxYDGMqEgcc2CVMB9pD24k3KQSrTS7Q6-7OVtC8IDrRa7cQfSC5cr318lt5tQA-w-ituJYKo4lB41G3L0ubq_n-hzgJ4UpOL1sgt6YPUp4/s200/4.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">St Clement Danes also remembers those who
lost their lives while serving in the RAF through the Books of Remembrance that
start from 1912 and continue to the present. Around the church are memorial
boards for RAF personnel who have died on various operations and plaques with
the names of those who have won the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victoria_Cross" target="_blank">Victoria</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Cross" target="_blank">George Crosses</a>. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: arial;">
<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">As I emerged from the church, to the rhythms
of the Strand, it was impossible to miss the statue of William Gladstone,
flanked by those of Arthur Harris and Hugh Dowding, wartime leaders of the RAF.
Pausing for a moment in Gladstone’s shadow, I told myself that I needed to ask
my mother if she and my dad had ever been to St Clement Danes when they lived
in the UK. I never did. And seven months later, she too was but a memory. </span></span></span></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
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div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</font></span></style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-58453312239336811962020-05-21T07:48:00.001+05:302022-12-28T11:23:53.156+05:30Celebrating Tree Walk <div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">An early memory is of scrambling halfway up
the guava tree in the backyard of our house in Bangalore. And of the joy and
sense of accomplishment that came from making it that far up. I didn’t realise
it then, but I was fortunate to belong to a generation of urban Indian children
who had unfettered access to trees, yards and the outdoors.</span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">Trees are especially on my mind because <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/115646138581706" target="_blank">Tree Walk Thiruvananthapuram</a> celebrated its eighth birthday last week. It was on 12
May 2012 that the first tree walk was held along the city’s Vanchiyoor ‘green
corridor’. </span></span></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">
</span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3YkhdxTEaon9RPinJnHW_DnYCzoJjoOr8hilDAZOnq4h7H4foCINpqEje1Hj7y-37CbwPo02jBosMrXBdqDs4E3nb-kdOqh4xoPgLls-EhG-6U0ompuYO0gW6F1UOplc4nGiGe9x-SPY/s1600/TW1.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3YkhdxTEaon9RPinJnHW_DnYCzoJjoOr8hilDAZOnq4h7H4foCINpqEje1Hj7y-37CbwPo02jBosMrXBdqDs4E3nb-kdOqh4xoPgLls-EhG-6U0ompuYO0gW6F1UOplc4nGiGe9x-SPY/s320/TW1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring the city's Museum complex</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">While it’s often described as an “environmental
collective,” I’ve always seen Tree Walk as a group of people who are interested
in and care about trees. A group that comes together to observe, understand, protect
and document Thiruvananthapuram’s tree cover.<span>
</span></span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">Membership of Tree Walk is largely informal,
and sometimes transient, but at its core is a committed group helmed by Anitha
Sharma and her sister Santhi. Set up in memory of botanist and tree-lover Dr C.
Thankam, who was also Anitha’s and Santhi’s mother, Tree Walk traces its roots
to Harithakootayama, a group that was formed in 2008 to discover how people in
the city viewed trees and the equation between trees and road development. For
in the early 2000s, Thiruvananthapuram — like many cities across the country — embarked
on a ‘development’ journey focused on bolstering built infrastructure; a
journey that often hinged on cutting down trees. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">Early on, Tree Walk was largely about walks
to understand and explore trees in different parts of Thiruvananthapuram. Most
of these walks — over a hundred till now — were on Sunday mornings in the
city’s public green spaces such as parks and along roads, but also in
semi-private areas, including school and college campuses. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">Preserving the city’s green pockets has
always been a part of Tree Walk’s <i>raison
d’etre</i>. But this aspect took on a special urgency in 2013 when the city
authorities decided to take over a large part of the </span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attakulangara_School" target="_blank">Attakulangara Central High School</a> campus in the heart of Thiruvananthapuram to construct a
bus terminal and shops. A project that would require scores of trees to be
axed. </span></span></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXobPTmehWoID73sz5DlQiNCgUF-VanKVuqBQn1vumo-OAScbKDQaou5PK5RVkYXDaI4ZMmNeW6qaUZQRH9Sygo2_Kj5967hqZ-qfSBVCzLcvzC__EzG_7oly0RiMPRrWV2DufJuEy1I/s1600/TW2.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1096" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXobPTmehWoID73sz5DlQiNCgUF-VanKVuqBQn1vumo-OAScbKDQaou5PK5RVkYXDaI4ZMmNeW6qaUZQRH9Sygo2_Kj5967hqZ-qfSBVCzLcvzC__EzG_7oly0RiMPRrWV2DufJuEy1I/s320/TW2.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Handout from a walk in the East Fort Heritage Zone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">This action saw Tree Walk evolving into a
pressure group that worked with other civil society groups on a spirited
<a href="https://www.countercurrents.org/anithas161115.htm" target="_blank">campaign to save the school </a>— established in the late 1880s — and its green
campus. Across several months, the group organised various activities, including
several walks and a tree survey to create awareness about how the planned bus
terminal would obliterate a significant slice of the city’s irreplaceable
natural heritage.</span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">Ultimately, sense prevailed within the State
Government. The bus station project was redesigned and the decision to use <a href="https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Thiruvananthapuram/128-year-old-school-gets-to-keep-its-land/article17023864.ece" target="_blank">the school’s land was scrapped</a>. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">Alongside, Tree Walk also embarked on
several other projects — a butterfly garden on the premises of the State Central
Library or Public Library, special walks for school students, collaborating
with nature clubs in the city’s schools to document the biodiversity on school
campuses and, just a few months ago, an intervention to ‘heal’ a badly
mutilated jasmine tree that stands outside the Saphalyam Complex on the city’s
arterial MG Road. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">Early this year, during the <a href="https://www.mbifl.com/activities/treewalk" target="_blank">Mathrubhumi International Festival of Letters</a>, Tree Walk held a series of walks designed to
introduce the lit-fest’s authors and speakers to some of the city’s special
trees. A friend I’d recommended the walks to declared, “It was a fabulous
experience.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAiJhih0SUOLvWJMv8RCuQW9d_aZ7_Mif2oKDvFWzYa4wJlPGdcV-RckIDjqopdRnjgNyBuM8NhuyeUsCOnE4QBXbJqoiVx7ffm1FF9pKSOIoMFRZRvZJjoD4VKMWU8SD7UOSZSYUguns/s1600/TW3.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1317" data-original-width="1600" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAiJhih0SUOLvWJMv8RCuQW9d_aZ7_Mif2oKDvFWzYa4wJlPGdcV-RckIDjqopdRnjgNyBuM8NhuyeUsCOnE4QBXbJqoiVx7ffm1FF9pKSOIoMFRZRvZJjoD4VKMWU8SD7UOSZSYUguns/s320/TW3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thiruvananthapuram's natural and built heritage harmonise in East Fort</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">And that’s a sentiment I can relate to. As I
wrote in <b><i><a href="http://sankarrad.blogspot.com/2015/07/on-sunday-in-trivandrum.html" target="_blank">National Geographic Traveller</a></i></b> some years ago, </span><span lang="EN-GB">I’ve found these freewheeling walks to
be a great way to discover facets of the city that would otherwise pass right
by us. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span lang="EN-GB">As Tree Walk embarks on its ninth year, it
is a period of uncertainty; a time when humanity is facing an existential
crisis of the sort that no living person has experienced. Even in the midst of
this gloom, I can’t help but hope that this crisis we face will give us all at
least a sliver of understanding about how vital the natural world’s health is
to our own health and wellbeing. </span></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: arial;">
</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span lang="EN-GB">And since I haven’t been on a tree walk for many
months now, I look forward to a Sunday — any day for that matter — when we can
embark on one. For Tree Walk is quite simply one of my city’s gems; not always in
the public eye, but a gem nonetheless. </span></span>
</span></span></div>
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div.WordSection1
{page:WordSection1;}</span></font></style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-91945405969668395782020-05-19T07:29:00.000+05:302020-05-19T21:40:38.802+05:30Exiting the lockdown <div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">A
version of this article was in </span></i><span lang="EN-GB"><b><a href="https://www.outlookindia.com/website/story/news-analysis-india-is-currently-observing-coronavirus-lockdown-heres-what-we-can-do-post-shutdown/350129" target="_blank">Outlook’s</a></b><i> online edition in early April. This piece
was written in collaboration with <b>Dr
M.I. Sahadulla</b>, Chairman and Managing Director, KIMS Healthcare Group and
the author of </i>Vital Signs: Reflections on a Life in Medicine and Management<i>.</i></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Pandemics are not particularly new. In fact,
Covid-19 is simply the latest in a long line of pandemics. But this one has a
rather modern streak. For the SARS-CoV-2 virus that causes Covid-19 has used
the connectedness of our globalised world to spread. And spread with such speed
and stealth, that containment — keeping the virus out — has proved to be almost
impossible.</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjVcwCaSHp2yHaC6BS1pw96MxsVKS95nKzQ_cVmMLxCStVGbMkNrPJeqsjdHuFFIlF_e6RNgFAYJm2uEe_tzUPVS3urPTfSRNhyphenhyphenbOmOCxtIbMThy8UKZgb6O9BBeHofPGviSIcwmiA9cM/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjVcwCaSHp2yHaC6BS1pw96MxsVKS95nKzQ_cVmMLxCStVGbMkNrPJeqsjdHuFFIlF_e6RNgFAYJm2uEe_tzUPVS3urPTfSRNhyphenhyphenbOmOCxtIbMThy8UKZgb6O9BBeHofPGviSIcwmiA9cM/s320/1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clouds of uncertainty, but rays of hope in the distance...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Most nations have largely turned to
variations of a shutdown — what Singapore’s Prime Minister, </span>Lee Hsien Loong,<span lang="EN-GB"> evocatively called “a circuit breaker” — to reduce the spread of
Covid-19. The intention behind these shutdowns is to try and prevent, or at
least curtail, the spread of the virus by limiting social interactions. This is
because social interaction typically influences the rate at which a pandemic,
especially a respiratory virus pandemic, spreads. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">In India, the 21-day shutdown that began at
midnight on 24 March has involved closing workplaces, shutting most public
transport systems, shutting educational institutions, severely curtailing
movements and gatherings of people and asking everyone to stay at home. But
effectively implementing a shutdown in a country of over 1.2 billion people,
from diverse socio-economic conditions, comes with its own set of challenges.
Overcoming these challenges calls for coordinated, empathetic action by
governments across the country, even as we throw everything we have at
controlling the virus. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Yet, we also need to think about the future
— not just medium or long term, but also the next few weeks and months. We need
an exit strategy or post-shutdown plan that protects our wellbeing even as it
bolsters our economy. Here are some options to consider:</span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Continue
mobilising public health resources:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> Over the coming
weeks — during the lockdown and even after it’s eased — we must use all our
public health resources, including more testing, to curtail the spread of
Covid-19 and ensure that the infection rate stays very low. At the same time,
we need to recognise that the virus could probably linger in pockets for some
time to come. Therefore, we must be part of the global effort to develop
preventive vaccines or medicines that treat Covid-19. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Launch
a massive education campaign:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> It’s not easy to
change our behaviour in the best of times. But at this moment, behavioural
changes such as adopting basic hygiene practices or staying away from one
another are vital to control the spread of Covid-19. Of course, given the
conditions that large sections of our population live in, adopting these
practices isn’t easy; so we need to create alternatives where possible. But
adopt them we must. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">This is why we need to invest more in
campaigns to advocate responsible practices — cleaning hands, physical
distancing from other people, staying at home when asked to and so on. Such
behaviour needs to become second nature; something we all do on our own,
without any coercion. While governments have already launched such campaigns
fronted by celebrities, perhaps it’s time we considered innovative options
including applying behavioural insights to these initiatives. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Gradual
easing of the shutdown:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> India’s national lockdown
is scheduled to end on 14 April. Even if all goes well and the number of
Covid-19 cases in the country stays relatively low, it makes better sense for
the government to lift restrictions only gradually and cautiously. This is
important to ensure there is no immediate resurgence of the virus from
increased social interactions. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Controlled
resumption of economic activity:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> The pandemic’s
impact on the global economy is already being felt. Some of us can work from
home. But India has millions of people who do not have that option. So in the
weeks ahead, it’s important to consider ‘reopening’ key sectors of the economy —with
strict physical distancing, hygiene norms and other controls in place. This
reopening has to be carefully planned and even more carefully executed. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Make
public health a focus area:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> Any investment in
public health helps to prevent diseases and leads to the improved overall
health of the population. But in India, healthcare, and public health in
particular, has not received the governmental attention and financial support
it merits. This must change immediately. India needs to view public health not
as crisis management, but as a long-term priority. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">We also need to make the ‘one health’
approach an integral part of our public health strategy. This involves
recognising that our health is connected to the health of animals, plants and
the environment that we all share. It, therefore, emphasises that efforts to
prevent disease should focus not just on human, but also on animal, plant and
environmental health. We really can’t afford to ignore this idea, given that
SARS-CoV-2 is believed to have animal origins. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Pay
special attention to mental health:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> The upheavals
caused by Covid-19 are affecting every aspect of our lives. All of us are,
understandably, beset by worries about money and about our own health and that
of our loved ones. Bereft of our usual coping mechanisms such as social
gatherings or even regular work routines, this anxiety could very easily spiral
into mental health issues. So we need to allocate resources to mental wellness
programmes. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
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{page:WordSection1;}</span></font></style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-24285786794911180572020-02-18T20:44:00.001+05:302020-06-26T08:00:20.570+05:30Portrait of a servant leader <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">A version
of this was in </span></i><b><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="https://www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/books-a-man-worthy-of-his-cap/302762" target="_blank">Outlook</a></span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">In the final weeks of 2019, as protests
against the Citizenship (Amendment) Act swept India, I found myself wondering
how Lal Bahadur Shastri would have managed the situation. Would it have been a
muscular, combative, shape shifting response or would it have been considered,
inclusive and humane, geared towards reconciling differing perspectives.
Chances are it would have been the latter. For Sandeep Shastri’s new book, Lal
Bahadur Shastri: Politics and Beyond, quotes India’s second Prime Minister as
saying: “I can carry everyone along with me. That is much better… This approach
may delay decisions a little, but that does not bother me at all. It is a price
worth paying.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">”</span></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rWn6WgADSUaxYKYXStOgHAIxRlm6Rs7zbgwdiWYatdCFquv33NZs1CTCE4qWEPyNsBtm0jyfYIUZrhttyigj6JFQwyEfbGFh-Yk4rk0HUSslg_xMFAenihirv7rQOsNiJQA6-Zzjqus/s1600/LBS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rWn6WgADSUaxYKYXStOgHAIxRlm6Rs7zbgwdiWYatdCFquv33NZs1CTCE4qWEPyNsBtm0jyfYIUZrhttyigj6JFQwyEfbGFh-Yk4rk0HUSslg_xMFAenihirv7rQOsNiJQA6-Zzjqus/s1600/LBS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1046" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rWn6WgADSUaxYKYXStOgHAIxRlm6Rs7zbgwdiWYatdCFquv33NZs1CTCE4qWEPyNsBtm0jyfYIUZrhttyigj6JFQwyEfbGFh-Yk4rk0HUSslg_xMFAenihirv7rQOsNiJQA6-Zzjqus/s320/LBS.jpg" width="209" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Positioned as an attempt to assess Shastri’s
political career and legacy, the book is fuelled by the author’s conviction
that the former Prime Minister has not received his due. And that it is a
disservice to India if leaders like him are not given their rightful place in
the national narrative. The author possibly has a point when he declares that
Shastri, unlike some of his contemporaries, does not capture the Indian
imagination. While some of his contributions, including his decisive leadership
in the 1965 war against Pakistan, the Tashkent Declaration of 1966 and the
evocative ‘jai jawan, jai kisan’ slogan are occasionally referred to, their
true worth is seldom recognised in the country.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">A political scientist, writer and political
commentator, Sandeep Shastri is currently the Pro Vice Chancellor of Jain
University and Director of its Centre for Research in Social Sciences and
Education. In his introduction to the book, he writes that he has long been
fascinated by Shastri’s leadership.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Shastri was — as Sandeep shows, drawing on
newspaper articles and books — a leader cast in a different mould, with an
unshakable faith in democracy and the importance of individual freedom.
Humility, sincerity and inclusiveness were his hallmark, as was a belief in
secularism and the fundamental goodness of all religions.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Shastri’s approach to solving problems and
making decisions was to calmly consider and understand all points of view,
before arriving at a resolution based on consultation and consensus. He chose
his words carefully and spoke in simple language, with no hyperbole, no
theatrics. He possessed the rare ability to bring people together, rather than
divide them. And as Sandeep emphasises, Shastri was known for his strong
personal integrity and high ethical standards. Not for him, the trappings of
power for he viewed them as a sign of arrogance.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">This, of course, isn’t to say that Shastri
was naive or untutored in the intricacies of politics. But as the book
explains, the challenges of his early years, including the death of his father,
ensured that he was grounded, down to earth and rooted in Indian realities.
This shaped his values and vision and laid the foundation for his later years
as a leader.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">As I travelled with Shastri, from his early
years in Mughalsarai to his sudden death in 1966 — about which doubts still
linger — I often found myself wondering where the book’s editor had
disappeared. For one, there’s too much repetition; Shastri’s qualities are
hammered into the reader’s mind when a few deft taps would have been enough.
Then, there are issues of syntax, typos and a couple of factual errors. There
is, for instance, on page 76 a reference to “Madras state (now Chennai),” which
is incorrect. For Madras state became Tamil Nadu, while it’s the city of Madras
that is “now Chennai.”</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Such wrinkles apart, Lal Bahadur Shastri:
Politics and Beyond certainly adds to existing literature on this unassuming leader.
It throws up interesting nuggets of information about Shastri and about the
times he lived in; details that may not quite figure in our collective
consciousness today. For instance, his rather contemporary perspective on
business and its ‘social responsibility’ from a speech delivered in 1965, in
which he said that businessmen had an “even greater role than that of an
economist and the politician. Too often, the community views the businessman’s
aim as selfish gain… (That) impression can be removed only when (a) business
becomes fully alive to its social responsibilities.”</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">The book, in a sense, distils the essence of
Shastri’s qualities as a leader and a human. Reading its final section, on his
legacy, I was struck by how much he resembles the present-day idea of a
‘servant leader’ anchored in ideas of compassion, passion, equality,
inclusivity and consultation. Shastri’s approach to life and leadership was not
about flamboyance, wordplay or spin, but centred on humility, earnestness and a
commitment to principles. It is a reminder that leadership does not always have
to be of the ‘in your face’ variety and that nice people can also be great
leaders.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">Admittedly, Shastri lived in a different
India but perhaps India itself would have been a different place had he lived
longer. We can but wonder. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span></span><style><font size="3"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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{page:WordSection1;}</span></font></style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-35578577359651385862019-12-31T11:23:00.003+05:302019-12-31T11:26:05.893+05:30Beginnings and endings… <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDusl6KiknLMbDrFd83eZZ6PNDGggxUBLQYBsounBuRvK7mz7cqWRepeOHaDQiBNrhpDS4NpC9KybgBxBmtx4DldB4k5vc99xWg_CJfBi5HRChLNPn37uhnaisKPNFkuMp6y8sjYBXng/s1600/Sky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1331" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDusl6KiknLMbDrFd83eZZ6PNDGggxUBLQYBsounBuRvK7mz7cqWRepeOHaDQiBNrhpDS4NpC9KybgBxBmtx4DldB4k5vc99xWg_CJfBi5HRChLNPn37uhnaisKPNFkuMp6y8sjYBXng/s400/Sky.jpg" width="332" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">… or endings and
beginnings? Or both? </span></span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-57292379436066105582019-12-30T21:31:00.000+05:302019-12-30T21:31:07.872+05:30Discovering Fromagerie Marie-Ann Cantin
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUtfoeeWKxrnYkYdi4lKe7Kt0gx6WwEJ_30hCJcvHa03VL-ohzlGp4g-OJJYxnnBMEmMYvX5xDs4S0eRrmnxMOsDWtX-hSocn428lXHpVZfVdqCyz5EV6otPU6f8OxKrbX0o-7sc347VM/s1600/Cantin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1551" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUtfoeeWKxrnYkYdi4lKe7Kt0gx6WwEJ_30hCJcvHa03VL-ohzlGp4g-OJJYxnnBMEmMYvX5xDs4S0eRrmnxMOsDWtX-hSocn428lXHpVZfVdqCyz5EV6otPU6f8OxKrbX0o-7sc347VM/s200/Cantin.jpg" width="193" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">I’ve never been very fond of Camembert. But earlier this year I rather tentatively nibbled on a wobbly sliver of Marie-Anne
Cantin’s Camembert de Normandie and I changed my mind. It had the bite I
associate with Camemebrt, but it was a mellow bite that was slightly fruity and
creamy. The rind was chalky, but tolerably so.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So an expedition to <a href="https://www.cantin.fr/" target="_blank">Fromagerie Marie-Anne Cantin</a>
on rue du Champs-de-Mars is on my list of must-dos in Paris. What’s wonderful
is that a range of her cheeses including Comté, Tomme
de Savoie, Saint-Nectaire <span lang="EN-GB">and, of course, that </span>Camembert
de Normandie are available
in select Monoprix supermarkets. </span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div>
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</style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-86737283025274037882019-12-22T20:26:00.000+05:302020-05-19T21:37:54.146+05:30Understanding strangers <div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">A version of this was in
</span></i><b><a href="https://www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/books-pop-goes-the-physic-for-you/302516" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-GB">Outlook</span></a></b><i><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">We live in what’s often described as the
digital age. When technology is supposed to be transforming lives and bringing
people together. And perhaps it does. Yet, we still tend to see the stranger as
the ‘other’, the bogeyman we must fear. So why is it that humans, despite the
‘advances’ we have made and the technology we have at our fingertips, are so
bad at understanding other humans, especially those we do not know.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4t-jBXumMA6Kbb5VvhM2-2_vy3Ds11hkQVmzswiX3DEuZfqKKDnC38AxLBEUhstO617yHadwUaBHSANybJYke9cJE9bBXzHr_VW90JlHdE80UtiLJaCdyQNczOVyCx85fuzZe3lzKX2Q/s1600/Talking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4t-jBXumMA6Kbb5VvhM2-2_vy3Ds11hkQVmzswiX3DEuZfqKKDnC38AxLBEUhstO617yHadwUaBHSANybJYke9cJE9bBXzHr_VW90JlHdE80UtiLJaCdyQNczOVyCx85fuzZe3lzKX2Q/s320/Talking.jpg" width="208" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">This is the question that Malcolm Gladwell
tackles in his new book, <i>Talking to
Strangers: What We Should Know about the
People We Don’t Know</i>. In its search for answers, the book — Gladwell’s
sixth and first in six years — engages with some deeply disturbing issues such
as race and its ties to police misconduct; gender and campus rape; and the
sexual assault of children. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Central to the narrative, and perhaps what
triggered the idea for the book, is the tragic story of Sandra Bland. In July
2015, the 28-year-old African-American woman was found hanging in her jail cell
after she was detained following a traffic offence. As Gladwell writes: “<i>Talking to Strangers </i>is an attempt to
understand what really happened by the side of the highway that day in rural
Texas.” </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">A staff writer at <i>The New Yorker</i>, Gladwell is the author of bestsellers such as <i>The Tipping Point</i> and <i>Outliers</i> and co-founder of the company
that produces the Revisionist History podcasts.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">His articles and books typically meld pop
science, psychology, arresting insights drawn from academic research in the
social sciences and anecdotes with elegant writing to arrive at intriguing
hypotheses. And whether it is his writing or his public speaking engagements,
Gladwell is most often giving a performance. And this book is no different,
with writing that is mostly understated but lucid and a bazaar of anecdotes —
from Sandra Bland’s death to the encounter between Aztec ruler Montezuma II and
Spanish Conquistador Hernan Cortes, from Sylvia Plath’s suicide to Bernie
Madoff’s Ponzi scheme and the <i>Friends</i>
television series. And there are some extremely Tweetable lines such as,
“Alcohol isn’t an agent of revelation. It is an agent of transformation.” </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">In 1938, with the threat of war looming over
Europe, British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain did what few world leaders
had done; he went to Germany to meet Adolf Hitler. Across three meetings, he
looked the German leader in the eye and spoke to him for hours. And when Hitler
said that the only part of Europe he wanted was the Sudetenland, Chamberlain
believed him. As he later wrote to his sister: “… I got the impression that
here was a man who could be relied upon when he had given his word.”</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">However, others like Winston Churchill, who
had never met Hitler, firmly believed that he was a “duplicitous thug.” And as
subsequent events demonstrated, the people who’d never met Hitler or spent time
with him were the ones who got it right. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">So why is it that people who are reasonably
intelligent and worldly-wise end up being deceived and unable to understand
people they do not know? </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">One possible explanation, Gladwell believes,
is our tendency to “default to truth”; our assumption that the people we deal
with are honest. There’s also the “illusion of transparency”, the idea that the
way people appear and behave is a reflection of what they feel on the inside;
that conduct and appearance offer us a window into the stranger’s soul. And on
top of these, Gladwell suggests that we do not ‘get’ strangers because of the
absence of “coupling”, the idea that behaviour can be linked to very specific
circumstances and conditions. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Therefore, what should we do to read
strangers correctly? This is an especially relevant question at a time when the
world over, trust in leaders and public institutions is under tremendous strain
and the ‘other’ is blamed for the world’s ills. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Disappointingly, Gladwell offers no real
solutions. All he recommends is, “We should also accept the limits of our
ability to decipher strangers… What is required of us is restraint and
humility… There are clues to making sense of a stranger. But attending to them
requires care and attention.” But he doesn’t quite spell out how we could do
this. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Also, Gladwell’s anecdotes and the research
that underpins his theories are drawn almost exclusively from the west. While
some of these ideas are, possibly, universal and could be applied across
cultures, it seems the book is essentially about ‘talking to strangers in the
US’. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Of course, this isn’t to say that <i>Talking to Strangers</i> isn’t thought
provoking. Some of the insights thrown up by the research Gladwell draws on are
fascinating, as are some of the entries in the notes section and the pointers
they offer people interested in the social sciences. But if you’re expecting a
revelation, don’t quite hold your breath. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-35830452626722447662019-06-01T21:39:00.002+05:302024-01-01T20:23:16.752+05:30Journeys with AK Ramanujan<i><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">A
version of this was in </span></span></span></i><a href="https://www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/books-grace-touched-loneliness-of-the-artist/301694" target="_blank"><b><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Outlook</span></span></span></b></a><i><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-QG95sLDG3Tj9ZGlHu8Ybq9dp7S7a5saz_xPPebSorb7Kl8uFpDhRZ-VDfEU-ewizfq2XNksfF1LrwCOZOKRcpzFZ8aN_5RPp1He7ncd7WiDvIz11WlyXJMVsAuyWiKqO6CiNAaaQ50w/s1600/AKR.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: arial; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="255" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-QG95sLDG3Tj9ZGlHu8Ybq9dp7S7a5saz_xPPebSorb7Kl8uFpDhRZ-VDfEU-ewizfq2XNksfF1LrwCOZOKRcpzFZ8aN_5RPp1He7ncd7WiDvIz11WlyXJMVsAuyWiKqO6CiNAaaQ50w/s320/AKR.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">Fascinating and illuminating. These are the
words that come to mind even as I’m just about a quarter-way through <i>Journeys: A Poet’s Diary</i> by A.K.
Ramanujan, and edited by Krishna Ramanujan and Guillermo Rodriguez. Fascinating,
because reading this book is almost like watching a live-stream from within a
creative, brilliant mind, seeing thoughts as they form and evolve or dissipate.
Illuminating, because it offers tantalising glimpses of the author's inner
world while also reinforcing, as it were, that our humanity is shared; that
genius or not, labourer or scholar, the things we worry about, obsess over and
obtain joy from are largely the same. </span>
</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">Pioneering poet, translator, folklorist,
essayist and scholar. For the past five-odd decades Ramanujan has been all
these, but also a beacon for India’s literary community. Growing up in Mysore,
he taught English literature in colleges across southern India before traveling
to the US in his early 30s as a Fulbright Scholar, going on to pursue a career
as an academic at the</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;"> University of
Chicago. </span><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">He wrote in Kannada and English and
translated, primarily, from Tamil and Kannada into English. During his
lifetime, he published several poetry collections in English and Kannada, translations
of ancient Tamil poetry and medieval Kannada poetry and a translation of U.R.
Ananthamurthy’s <i>Samskara</i>, besides
editing a collection of folk tales from across India. Recognition for his work
includes a Padma Shri and </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: arial;">a MacArthur Fellowship. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span><span lang="EN-GB">Ironically, as the book reveals, despite his
significant accomplishments, Ramanujan seems to have been ridden with
self-doubt and existential angst through much of his adult life. It is
fascinating to see how someone who was so prolific and, dare I say, successful,
write in 1978, “Feel imprisoned in the role of teacher/writer – the former
comes easier than the latter.” Or — heartbreakingly — write after winning the MacArthur
Fellowship, “One also wishes that with the money came also a package of more
talent, intelligence.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">There’s also an often expressed yearning to
belong, beset in equal measure by the desire to be different. As he writes in an
early version of the poem ‘Self-portrait’, published in his first collection <i>The Striders</i>: </span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">“I resemble everyone</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">but myself, </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">and sometimes see</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">in mirrors</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">the portrait of a stranger,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">date unknown,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">despite the well-known laws</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">of optics.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">But it’s not as if Ramanujan was unaware of
his self-doubt and dissatisfaction and also, perhaps, how baffling it was. As
he writes in March 1989, “Though I’ve been amply rewarded and befriended, was
never truly poor, lonely, or worked in places or with people that didn’t
appreciate me… Yet why did I feel miserable, as I’ve done all through these
years, while all along I worked very well, read and wrote, had friends?”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">Ramanujan possibly never expected others to
be reading his journal and encounter his innermost thoughts. But it is these intimate
thoughts — the self-doubt; the search for meaning, purpose, acceptance and
acclaim; the creative process; and so on — that humanise this literary colossus
and help us relate to him as a human being. And that, I believe, is the book’s
primary success. </span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">With an affectionate foreword by Girish
Karnad, who knew the writer as a mentor and friend, and introductions by the
two editors, one of whom is Ramanujan’s son, <i>Journeys</i> is an eclectic selection; not just in terms of form, but
also in terms of the emotions explored and ideas expressed. Based on the A.K.
Ramanujan Papers maintained in the University of Chicago, it covers the
writer’s life from the mid-1940s to the weeks before his death in July 1993.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">The book includes unpublished prose including
diaries, journals, dreams, short stories; unpublished poetry ranging from
experimental lines and rough drafts to revised and polished drafts; and
published poems, in an effort to show how Ramanujan worked and how his ideas
led to finished poems. As Rodriguez writes in his introduction, it “brings
together for the first time a selection of the unpublished diaries and journals
that trace a <i>journey</i> - in his own
voice – as a writer and poet, and his maturing as a unique intellectual
luminary.” </span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">Understandably, poetry is a constant. A thread
that runs through the book. There are familiar, published, poems like ‘The
Striders’ from his eponymously titled book or ‘Extended Family’ from <i>Second Sight</i>. But there is equally
powerful unpublished work such as the ‘Soma’ series believed to have been
inspired by Ramanujan’s mescaline encounter or the 1978 draft of the ‘Alvar
poem’ or these lines from ‘A First Flight to New York’: </span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">“… New York – lines of fire, like </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">an electric heater and </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">green dot configurations – </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">vast – oceans of stars of </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">red yellow green, sparse,</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">clustered and guided into</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">lines, with caravans</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">slowing through them -</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">gradually plotted into</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">squares – as if somebody’s</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">nerve impulses were diagrammed</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">and translated into flickers</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">and paths and ganglions -…”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">Translation, Ramanujan’s other major
contribution to literature, is also a presence through the book, perhaps a
slightly muted presence though. Possibly the most thought-provoking section on
translation is an October 1992 entry, filled with striking thoughts such as, “Each
translation creates an original; supplants and extends and often subverts what
is in in another language.” </span>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">As its name implies, the book is also about Ramanujan’s
journeys, some internal and some external. And compelling as they are, the
internal journeys are sometimes eclipsed by the external expeditions. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">Even before we get to the formal section
called ‘The journey’, Ramanujan’s journal entries on his travel within India
are entertaining. But it is in ‘notes towards a journal: The journey’, a typed,
unpublished document; the travel diary that covers his voyage from India to the
US; and the section on<span style="color: blue;"> </span>his first weeks in the
US that his writing is at its most delightful. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">In these pages, he is a keen observer with
an eye for detail, humorous (sometimes wickedly so) and filled with curiosity about
the world around. And there is the ever-present poetry. The ability to make
pictures with words, like this passage from his time in Paris: “The sun-tanned
man in deep blue jersey and fawn corduroys standing before a huge modern
painting and fitting into the quilt-work composition as if he were born for
that moment, to stand before that piece which was born with a gap in the
composition.” The writing here is perhaps not just an exploration of new
places, cuisines, experiences, cultures and ways of thinking, but also an
attempt by Ramanujan to find and situate himself in this new world. </span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">Expectedly, thoughts on writing as a discipline
come up through the book. From the universal writerly gripe on the eternal
search for new ideas, to more structured thoughts on writing, Ramanujan’s views
are occasionally challenging but always stimulating. Like the conviction that
writing and re-writing are part of the same process or that creation and self-criticism
are not opposites. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">Even as Ramanujan’s writing sparkles, what
adds additional zing to this book are the photographs scattered through it. They’re
also the source of my sole quibble — some captions are tough to read for they’re
in colours that bleed into the black and white images. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><span><span lang="EN-GB">What makes <i>Journeys: A Poet’s Diary</i> truly remarkable is that it is, in a sense,
Ramanujan with few filters, for which his family must be appreciated. Equally,
the book matters because it traces the author’s course through life, as his
thoughts and writing evolve even as the person himself seems to stay relatively
unchanged. It offers readers a tasting menu of his potent writing, especially
his poetry, and flashes of the even more compelling ideas and thinking that crafted
this writing. This is a book as much for first-time readers as it is for those
who are familiar with Ramanujan’s work. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
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</style> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-28717992503123498732019-05-01T08:27:00.000+05:302019-05-01T08:27:30.177+05:30Memory: Wayanad <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHAlcWYNyxXPyBxENrQ_7syBVg7dszjgMjVL0HGgy17XzlQG0TvSvpajR-XzDjJt4odBEYt0x37Yh3w5NdMfNNQv5wgvN-SfVRdwHiA5qBRxuEkyIGTUOKQ3GI6lxhyyglEAtBhNfZTY/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1540" data-original-width="1600" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHAlcWYNyxXPyBxENrQ_7syBVg7dszjgMjVL0HGgy17XzlQG0TvSvpajR-XzDjJt4odBEYt0x37Yh3w5NdMfNNQv5wgvN-SfVRdwHiA5qBRxuEkyIGTUOKQ3GI6lxhyyglEAtBhNfZTY/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Getting to <a href="http://wayanadtourism.org/" target="_blank">Wayanad</a> can be an experience in
itself. The first hour or so of the journey from Kozhikode is relatively
unremarkable. Just the endless games of chicken, that are the new normal on
roads in Kerala, by an assortment of vehicles. And to spice things up, the odd
carcass or two of vehicles that have lost a game of chicken. <span></span> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Where things start to get really interesting
is at the base of the </span><span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thamarassery_Churam" target="_blank">Thamarassery churam</a>, or Thamarassery mountain pass, through the Western Ghats. Here, the narrow
road to </span><span lang="EN-GB">Wayanad</span><span lang="EN-GB"> starts snaking up, often doubling back on itself. The traffic can be
pretty crazy here too, but then there’s always the view to focus on, which is mostly
appealing and often breathtaking.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWC4lzPk3fEjbTl5_yBzwDDu-1YsgcsOowce8z0j_d6mtXMOVrMs2428R_-eK6hbcWjjDv_hDv9TbjROA8oX5mRu8DY5HHTyu1ZuNLsArwM2H1ju9UQVjb4PP8zqyCqlzqrbnL5s-Em20/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWC4lzPk3fEjbTl5_yBzwDDu-1YsgcsOowce8z0j_d6mtXMOVrMs2428R_-eK6hbcWjjDv_hDv9TbjROA8oX5mRu8DY5HHTyu1ZuNLsArwM2H1ju9UQVjb4PP8zqyCqlzqrbnL5s-Em20/s200/0.jpg" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEm0_2ie_T8Xlfuv38EbBajBGYGBQZhHuKDXgo2E5BjcnIb3fOCzMBvqMs-op6vHdCpZXlu2gbUx0MnI6Dh3V12II-RtTJfoGJuxy7pNOs6kVQdH8ff-S_066b1KyOeyjDfpL0tkPsJ8I/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEm0_2ie_T8Xlfuv38EbBajBGYGBQZhHuKDXgo2E5BjcnIb3fOCzMBvqMs-op6vHdCpZXlu2gbUx0MnI6Dh3V12II-RtTJfoGJuxy7pNOs6kVQdH8ff-S_066b1KyOeyjDfpL0tkPsJ8I/s200/3.jpg" width="149" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">You will, like me, probably be a little short
of breath when you scramble up to the entrance to the <a href="http://wayanadtourism.org/explores/edakkal-caves" target="_blank">Edakkal caves</a>, about
1,200 feet above sea level. At a moderate pace, it takes about 40 minutes to
walk from the base of the hill to the caves. They’re not quite what comes to
mind when you think of a cave, but the engravings on the inner walls of these
stone structures take you back across the centuries — all the way back to the
Stone Age. And if you go very early in the morning, just when the caves open for
the day and there aren’t too many other visitors around, you can, for a fleeting
second or two, feel a tenuous connection to the early humans who sought shelter
there.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjfrPWu1PuZX7kmMQwccFdvwrmGrSQRlomSDge8horOMUfTQY0YDgdQ5ECu-8ISk8EIVHjJInH7uIvrZyEh-pOK8S5kNuFUtmYhwk_I5zqjL3i3GnfihMjusQiajIfLBY5IZw111I6pU/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOjfrPWu1PuZX7kmMQwccFdvwrmGrSQRlomSDge8horOMUfTQY0YDgdQ5ECu-8ISk8EIVHjJInH7uIvrZyEh-pOK8S5kNuFUtmYhwk_I5zqjL3i3GnfihMjusQiajIfLBY5IZw111I6pU/s320/5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">There are more reminders of the inhabitants —
early, but also more recent<span> </span>— of the
region in the <a href="http://wayanadtourism.org/explores/wayanad-heritage-museum" target="_blank">Wayanad Heritage Museum</a> in Ambalavayal. It’s a useful
introduction to the area’s history and culture, including that of its large tribal
population.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwr1RO7gKBPJG2AFybwj2x28hLvtI2DInQq7NvKytYurCsEAlnwTA02oV6THcwhhbKMLNnM45955PBg6Jg8TQpo91_Xzutk1Vg3EGlsWxXEXC8M4kEqyAKisoFoNCvSsmRgy0IwUCZtA/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="1600" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwr1RO7gKBPJG2AFybwj2x28hLvtI2DInQq7NvKytYurCsEAlnwTA02oV6THcwhhbKMLNnM45955PBg6Jg8TQpo91_Xzutk1Vg3EGlsWxXEXC8M4kEqyAKisoFoNCvSsmRgy0IwUCZtA/s320/7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span></span>There is, of course, much more to experience
in Wayanad. But for me, the caves and the museum were a tasting menu, just about
enough to take in on my first visit. More fetching was the prospect of heading
back to the wonderful <a href="http://www.peppertrail.in/" target="_blank">Pepper Trail</a> — cocooned in a coffee and spice plantation
— with its 140-year-old bungalow and soothing views, all cloaked in solitude
embellished by birdsong. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxgcgXRWs87PVOm2KmLrut1Mdp_0NBJTY2-x_z7lRX07B9yssTldt9Y7XdsYuFx6LtTniIn6ig1Uj2pKWerGLQJdNrNHu-Yv_pIeYVQoa8Ag2FwM-hLue6A1drMLKB_T85L_ipj4Ltx0/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1196" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxgcgXRWs87PVOm2KmLrut1Mdp_0NBJTY2-x_z7lRX07B9yssTldt9Y7XdsYuFx6LtTniIn6ig1Uj2pKWerGLQJdNrNHu-Yv_pIeYVQoa8Ag2FwM-hLue6A1drMLKB_T85L_ipj4Ltx0/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">And that’s just what I did; luxuriate in silence serenaded
by the call of a hornbill.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><style><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><font size="3">
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</font></span></style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-9376274403246647422019-04-18T11:15:00.000+05:302019-04-18T11:16:54.323+05:30Memory: Our Lady of Paris <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Q0Ewpy_HIycueEMkrLcHE80XP4jRZiyBZB7p7EIXtN9RM0sP15I5SrKXarn2TeV8KdF4fJTFjMfs94zSvSZMmTMQJvz16SqhRwVR8JqH1YH5mPZS9VXGbnb87Fbu7VNlaKUmqrC05MI/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1047" data-original-width="1196" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Q0Ewpy_HIycueEMkrLcHE80XP4jRZiyBZB7p7EIXtN9RM0sP15I5SrKXarn2TeV8KdF4fJTFjMfs94zSvSZMmTMQJvz16SqhRwVR8JqH1YH5mPZS9VXGbnb87Fbu7VNlaKUmqrC05MI/s400/4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">When I first got to Paris, it was twilight
on a warm Saturday in July. A delayed flight, a missed connection and the
detritus of a cold had left me drained. All I wanted was a shower and a bed. But
as RER B swept from Charles de Gaulle airport to Gare du Nord, it was impossible
to miss the <a href="https://www.toureiffel.paris/en" target="_blank">Eiffel Tower</a>, suffused in blue and gold, in the distance though my weary
mind didn’t quite process it then.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vWlPV-RWmm9MUmJ-3MpzmMjMGtSo-BOfzlZdpclKzu-UA6CXTpNmdpxcZuRI3MfArqVvhfaneSfg_3_FPI6Nj22tohYcT7OQIjVrRPOWz41bocrx1vGr24nCUEQtJ-zpcafQEL6qi4Y/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vWlPV-RWmm9MUmJ-3MpzmMjMGtSo-BOfzlZdpclKzu-UA6CXTpNmdpxcZuRI3MfArqVvhfaneSfg_3_FPI6Nj22tohYcT7OQIjVrRPOWz41bocrx1vGr24nCUEQtJ-zpcafQEL6qi4Y/s320/3.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">The next morning, as we exited the Metro onto
Quai Saint-Michel, there was <a href="http://www.notredamedeparis.fr/en/" target="_blank">Notre-Dame de Paris</a> across the Seine. My first proper
sight of Paris or, to be pedantic, a Parisian landmark. This, perhaps, is why
for me Notre-Dame immediately spells Paris; as much as the Eiffel or the <a href="http://www.paris-arc-de-triomphe.fr/en/" target="_blank">Arc deTriomphe</a> or the <a href="https://www.centrepompidou.fr/en" target="_blank">Centre Pompidou</a> does. </span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinczHkmDHFAzlTFMCFRTyxODXq8oJpcguGcZ6-3kZBV-Fhyphenhyphenk8M2sGwkVoefu3cqAY35jPgxBqbS5L7f_ghOlR2fuNEGmNatW9Bxqoprf91ezsM69Xs8o31CHjcCd4TKo8erHIMYygacCk/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinczHkmDHFAzlTFMCFRTyxODXq8oJpcguGcZ6-3kZBV-Fhyphenhyphenk8M2sGwkVoefu3cqAY35jPgxBqbS5L7f_ghOlR2fuNEGmNatW9Bxqoprf91ezsM69Xs8o31CHjcCd4TKo8erHIMYygacCk/s200/2.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Crossing the road and the Pont des Coeurs
we were soon part of the jostling line of visitors entering the cathedral. And
on that Sunday, even as we walked in and looked around, we were reminded by the
soaring voices of a choir celebrating Mass that we were in a living, breathing
place of worship. A place of beauty, but also one that offered tantalising
whiffs of timelessness; the sort of timelessness I sometimes felt in the sanctum
sanctorum of Trivandrum’s <a href="http://www.sreepadmanabhaswamytemple.org/" target="_blank">Padmanabhaswamy</a> temple in the quiet, un-crowded hours
before dawn.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfftUbgHjN8kS1L0inbaXKcms8VKg8uA_bOcwU9nc2xD1z6tyVPVLoVRqG1OhxyXJUbIbHeStFLH9IO_4GqB7nkqU-WoRL4sTogumrDKjw60FX2V48x8KqUReVwUkDQIjgqc0434beZVM/s1600/6a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="714" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfftUbgHjN8kS1L0inbaXKcms8VKg8uA_bOcwU9nc2xD1z6tyVPVLoVRqG1OhxyXJUbIbHeStFLH9IO_4GqB7nkqU-WoRL4sTogumrDKjw60FX2V48x8KqUReVwUkDQIjgqc0434beZVM/s200/6a.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Since that first visit, we’ve been back a
few times, browsing the artists’ and booksellers’ stalls along the Quai
Saint-Michel and the Quai de Montebello, scanning the racks at Shakespeare and
Company on Rue de la Bucherie or just watching the world go by along the banks
of the Seine, and Notre-Dame was always a reassuring presence, exuding grace.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And that’s a presence we’ve carried with us.
For Our Lady of Paris watches over us from the walls of our home, even as her gargoyles
crouch on another wall, keeping an eagle-eye on me as I write this.</span></span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-4130000951483783482018-12-31T17:18:00.001+05:302018-12-31T17:18:16.620+05:30New York memory <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyRymHThmRuODRnZ-P0P3E-u6uz6PDPI7WM3-RO3YdHpoRNc7qtgur5ZtiKmFLplxWpMiuqiGeDtM-xOFadOPPBQaEQKI-xmYdTVLKs2xUvbGq2bEvjiNlQtHziEsZu4Y4uhQwXwt4Jc/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1245" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLyRymHThmRuODRnZ-P0P3E-u6uz6PDPI7WM3-RO3YdHpoRNc7qtgur5ZtiKmFLplxWpMiuqiGeDtM-xOFadOPPBQaEQKI-xmYdTVLKs2xUvbGq2bEvjiNlQtHziEsZu4Y4uhQwXwt4Jc/s320/1.jpg" width="249" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">New York is a city of possibilities;
infinite possibilities. And for me, nothing captures that feeling more
perfectly than a view of the city from up above.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZkW01G4bXbJJHCAQDbfzL4YmQ9AVFxrTIE0rMAI1SNk3E0kt_pdVXIgboxAn9j7gwS2FHHY3sKcOIygI3nRgeZBt3tWtvDCuTPSc4h1I1FxYnPojofCeWOugC39ztb_92aH_o4zTuPs/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWZkW01G4bXbJJHCAQDbfzL4YmQ9AVFxrTIE0rMAI1SNk3E0kt_pdVXIgboxAn9j7gwS2FHHY3sKcOIygI3nRgeZBt3tWtvDCuTPSc4h1I1FxYnPojofCeWOugC39ztb_92aH_o4zTuPs/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1o06YaFmfBB6QSayVqWc5b0vdFbJBpuCq56dJf0sjpaHfdrdxlRX9Tbz9AihGNYTcM_VwZ5-0c1aNTcMDGJTZFyjSw_0RBgEIj3GSDclcVwyeCmtd8efX07zv2yRuNvf9qdI-P_g2qM/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1o06YaFmfBB6QSayVqWc5b0vdFbJBpuCq56dJf0sjpaHfdrdxlRX9Tbz9AihGNYTcM_VwZ5-0c1aNTcMDGJTZFyjSw_0RBgEIj3GSDclcVwyeCmtd8efX07zv2yRuNvf9qdI-P_g2qM/s320/2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Whether it’s a leaden morning, with almost
no memory of the sun, or a day stuffed with sunshine and blue skies, the city
mesmerises from above. And to round off the year, three favourite aerial views
of New York, a city that’s grown on me; well, sort of. <span> </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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</font></span></style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-13277124277825548572018-12-19T21:20:00.001+05:302018-12-19T21:20:42.913+05:30Vital Signs
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWEaBmqWFH7Sqd1c6fmFoqilpcyUkrex4Uog6ZqeepKbsdc5clcYKFLUWge-6jXDuQVIhOA7pd3VIPd9kEQMqtnK_9BPDSG43JZZSoOSE3UjuU2l5zMnOCw5DywIM3KIoC-V97YC8V-A/s1600/Vital+Signs+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1526" data-original-width="973" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKWEaBmqWFH7Sqd1c6fmFoqilpcyUkrex4Uog6ZqeepKbsdc5clcYKFLUWge-6jXDuQVIhOA7pd3VIPd9kEQMqtnK_9BPDSG43JZZSoOSE3UjuU2l5zMnOCw5DywIM3KIoC-V97YC8V-A/s320/Vital+Signs+.jpg" width="204" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; tab-stops: 140.75pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Turning your own ideas into words that count
can sometimes be a bit of a challenge. So it can get really tricky when you
need to turn someone else’s ideas into their own words. But for a writer and
editor, I think that’s a challenge worth accepting.<span> </span> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">And so it proved to be, working with Dr M.I.
Sahadulla on his memoir <i><a href="https://onlinestore.dcbooks.com/books/vital-signs-reflections-on-a-life-in-medicine-and-management#;" target="_blank">Vital Signs: Reflections on a Life in Medicine and Management</a>.</i> The most obvious benefit of working
on the book was the insight it offered into the process through which a young
person from Murukkumpuzha, a village (now a small town) near
Thiruvananthapuram, evolved into one of Kerala’s most successful entrepreneurs.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">A more important reward was the opportunity
to see an outstanding clinician at work; and, of course, the lessons in
entrepreneurship, managerial problem solving and professionalism that happened
as Dr Sahadulla went about the routine business of running <a href="http://kimsglobal.com/" target="_blank">KIMS</a>. And then,
there were the master classes in thoughtfulness and warmth as he bumped into
patients, doctors, nurses, paramedical staff and others in the hospital’s
corridors, leaving each person feeling a little better and happier for the
encounter.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">All these opportunities to learn and the
pleasure of spending time with a leader who is both warm and inspiring were,
without a doubt, the best part of working with Dr Sahadulla. And somewhere
along the way, turning his ideas into his words stopped being a challenge. </span></span></span>
</div>
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</font></span></style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-73245934840064890872017-12-28T19:33:00.001+05:302017-12-28T19:33:55.917+05:30The cheesemakers of Canterbury
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMGqlfhkTVeNPs5FqkzGtu7h0eJHB0wN_f5XGADBVDPdZ2H_vSlSqkesRZBsUuhMafaF2cZ4-5TtEkLlD92HK-n3sFfq11S1zkFps2mcvX5EhVHyH_7vkqQ8y6PzIaN29szgPYFT_FDY/s1600/Cheese.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1386" data-original-width="1600" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMGqlfhkTVeNPs5FqkzGtu7h0eJHB0wN_f5XGADBVDPdZ2H_vSlSqkesRZBsUuhMafaF2cZ4-5TtEkLlD92HK-n3sFfq11S1zkFps2mcvX5EhVHyH_7vkqQ8y6PzIaN29szgPYFT_FDY/s320/Cheese.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Cheese-wise, 2017 was a good year. I returned to several old
favourites and discovered a couple of outstanding new cheeses, including a vintage
cheddar (strength 5) from Tesco. My cheese discovery of the year, though, has
to be <a href="http://www.cheesemakersofcanterbury.co.uk/" target="_blank">Cheesemakers of Canterbury</a> and their range of artisanal cheeses.</span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">It was impossible to miss the Cheesemakers of Canterbury counter on
my first visit to <a href="https://thegoodsshed.co.uk/" target="_blank">The Goods Shed</a> farmers’ market and food hall in Canterbury. I
returned soon, for a chat with <a href="http://www.cheesemakersofcanterbury.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/team-george-ward.jpg" target="_blank">George</a>, who manages the counter, and a taste of several
of their cheeses including Ashmore Farmhouse, Ashmore Smoked, </span><span>Ancient Ashmore, </span><span lang="EN-GB">Gruff and </span><span>Canterbury Cobble. While I enjoyed them all, the Farmhouse,
Canterbury Cobble and Ancient Ashmore stood out, especially the slightly
intense Ancient Ashmore. They were the cheeses that found their way into my bag
and the sliver of Kent I took back home with me. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-45396360968006135722017-09-30T20:51:00.002+05:302017-09-30T20:54:55.869+05:30Quintessential Kerala <style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/_ND8UE4ycdY/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_ND8UE4ycdY?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Just saw <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ND8UE4ycdY&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">A Reading Room With a View</a>, <a href="http://www.stark.in/" target="_blank">Stark Communications’</a> recent ad
film for <a href="http://www.keralatourism.org/" target="_blank">Kerala Tourism</a>. And I’m captivated.</span><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Arguably Kerala Tourism’s best film since <a href="http://sankarrad.blogspot.in/2010/09/your-moment-is-waiting.html" target="_blank">Your Moment is Waiting</a> was
made seven years ago, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ND8UE4ycdY&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">A Reading Room With a View</a> is a quiet film; there’s no
in-your-face drama, but it deftly grows on you. It captures all that Kerala is
— the vividness, harmony, quirkiness, medley, ordinariness, eclecticism, contradictions
and enchantment. </span></span></span>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-83694289518067606622017-09-11T11:48:00.001+05:302017-09-11T11:48:29.031+05:30Along the Crab & Winkle Way
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdgtvWQ0zB6j_fE1kRiuDKlfpzXfI0i3cCLDbsqnI7urpOKMoPxMDw1cFU4f40fnZau8CZInC0EzeSpR6tw9I9Su64qipM8aIptj4oOsgJplLitH0wCVi1Zgtj-zvpJaNFUeSFioz9a7g/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdgtvWQ0zB6j_fE1kRiuDKlfpzXfI0i3cCLDbsqnI7urpOKMoPxMDw1cFU4f40fnZau8CZInC0EzeSpR6tw9I9Su64qipM8aIptj4oOsgJplLitH0wCVi1Zgtj-zvpJaNFUeSFioz9a7g/s320/1.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A section of the way in Clowes Wood</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">A version of this was in <a href="http://www.livemint.com/Leisure/SaF3PjvwpcsNdTjFmiuoxI/Experience-the-English-countryside.html" target="_blank">Mint Lounge</a></span></span></span></i></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s quiet but for the rhythmic crunch of
gravel beneath my boots. </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: black;">There’s</span><span lang="EN-GB"> a nip in the air, partly offset by
the spring sun on my face. The monkey in my mind decides to take a nap. Suddenly,
a portly squirrel waddles across my path and the spell is broken. I’m back to
earth on the Crab & Winkle Way, somewhere between <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canterbury" target="_blank">Canterbury</a> and Whitstable
in England. <span> </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Canterbury is famous for its <a href="https://www.canterbury-cathedral.org/" target="_blank">cathedral</a> and,
of course, Geoffrey Chaucer’s <i>The
Canterbury Tales</i>. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, the cathedral is certainly the
centre point of any visit to Canterbury. But the city is also an excellent base
for exploring the surrounding countryside, with many walking and cycling
routes. And though I don’t usually venture into the great outdoors when I
travel, I was drawn to the English countryside I’d read so much about. With several
options to choose from, the Crab & Winkle Way, at around 12 km, seemed the
most doable and intriguing, because of its history. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">The <a href="http://crabandwinkle.org/" target="_blank">Crab & Winkle Way</a> gets its name from
the railway line that once ran between Canterbury and the nearby seaside town
of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whitstable" target="_blank">Whitstable</a>. Inaugurated in 1830, the Canterbury and Whitstable Railway was among
the earliest in England and was engineered by George Stephenson — considered
the ‘father of the railway’ — and his son Robert. The Stephensons also designed
the Invicta locomotive initially used on the line, and now on display in the
<a href="https://canterburymuseums.co.uk/heritagemuseum/" target="_blank">Canterbury Heritage Museum</a>. Arguably the world’s first to run regular passenger
services and issue season tickets, the railway was operational till 1952. It
was nicknamed the Crab and Winkle Line in honour of the seafood Whitstable was
famous for. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6mTO8t9wLEPqe2DmfPXVjorineSJX10IymadI7sySSFcNMh_0WLZU5-a-JiLCu89AloByM-3K9B6Y7TR2db2STAvl3o55v4qhwPKLRswR-e4RRzijuTVUIh5anOW6YY20O7P8Mi7Sqh0/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1196" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6mTO8t9wLEPqe2DmfPXVjorineSJX10IymadI7sySSFcNMh_0WLZU5-a-JiLCu89AloByM-3K9B6Y7TR2db2STAvl3o55v4qhwPKLRswR-e4RRzijuTVUIh5anOW6YY20O7P8Mi7Sqh0/s200/3.jpg" width="149" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">In October 1999, the abandoned railway was
reborn as the Crab & Winkle Way, a mostly traffic-free cycling and walking path
between the two towns. Part of England’s national cycle network Route 1, it
uses only about a third of the course of the old railway line, of which little
remains. In Canterbury, the path begins from the Canterbury West railway station,
a listed building, and wends its way through the town’s suburbs and the
University of Kent campus from where it enters the countryside. I cheat a
little and begin my trek from the university, skipping the rather steep climb
out of Canterbury. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">I pause at the 13th-century church of St
Cosmus and St Damian in the Blean. The Salt Way Seat — a bench and one of
several artworks along the path — outside the church is perfect for taking in
the view: fields and orchards, a young stoat scurrying through a patch of early
bluebells and the occasional cyclist whizzing past. I’m mildly paranoid about
losing my way but I soon realise that following the cycle network’s markers
will see me through. The colourful, intricately carved Crab & Winkle
signposts at strategic spots bolster my confidence. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Along the way, I pass meadows with grazing
horses and cattle, barns, greenhouses and farms with names like Walnut Tree. Signs
ask cyclists to give way to horses, a reminder that farm animals are part of
everyday life in the region. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Then, I plunge into the mysterious-sounding
Clowes Wood. There’s a stillness punctuated only by the burbling of unseen pigeons
and the intermittent knock of a woodpecker. Deep in the wood is the Winding
Pond</span><span> picnic area. I catch my
breath at the Winding Wheel seat fashioned out of what appear to be old wooden
railway sleepers. Water from the pond was used by the steam engines that pulled
the train up the gradient in Clowes Wood. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span>In fact, most of the line
was powered by two static, steam-driven ‘winding engines’ that hauled carriages
using a cable system. The </span><span lang="EN-GB">Invicta</span><span> locomotive</span><span lang="EN-GB"> was not
powerful enough to cope with the gradients and was used only on a section of
the line, till it was replaced in 1836 by a third winding engine. And by the late
1840s, the winding engines were replaced by more powerful locomotives. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbMhMoM-3fctT7l4NEPgv0bg0hOS5uJGMdEHB5usGUSyqNcMNBQLXWahx0FS-XhujUpYZ1aBIV-BbXpuDnvFeRvtyfrWGBlCcCeHqpN2xipm0V-n0DuzMcC7zI1SqMwXuMQ5wTVV9DNrU/s1600/2+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1419" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbMhMoM-3fctT7l4NEPgv0bg0hOS5uJGMdEHB5usGUSyqNcMNBQLXWahx0FS-XhujUpYZ1aBIV-BbXpuDnvFeRvtyfrWGBlCcCeHqpN2xipm0V-n0DuzMcC7zI1SqMwXuMQ5wTVV9DNrU/s200/2+copy.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Crab&Winkle mosaic in Whitstable</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">From the Winding Pond, it’s straight on
through the wood and down a gentle slope. Soon, I’m in Whitstable’s suburbs,
keeping a wary eye out for vehicles since part of this on-road stretch of the route
has no pavements. I trudge along, making my way towards the harbour where the railway
ended. My journey though ends at the Crab & Winkle mosaic where Albert and
Harbour Streets meet. A little over two-and-a-half hours after I started out, I’ve
made it to Whitstable. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">As I tuck into succulent, battered fish and chunky
chips in the Tudor Tea Rooms on Harbour Street I feel content. For I’ve ventured
out of my comfort zone for a slice of the </span><span lang="EN-GB">English
countryside. </span><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Vitals</span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Access:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> Canterbury is well connected by rail to London and other parts of
England. There are frequent buses between Whitstable and Canterbury, with
one-way adult fares starting at around £4.7 (<a href="http://www.stagecoachbus.com/">www.stagecoachbus.com</a>). </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Route:</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> The Crab & Winkle Way can be accessed from both Canterbury and
Whitstable. It takes about one hour to cycle the entire route without stops and
about three-and-a-half hours to walk without stops. For more, including
detailed maps and events, check out Explore Kent (<a href="http://explorekent.org/">http://explorekent.org</a>) and the
Crab and Winkle Line Trust (<a href="http://crabandwinkle.org/">http://crabandwinkle.org</a>).</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-58850872357380801852016-12-04T14:52:00.001+05:302016-12-04T14:52:38.752+05:30If we are to go cash-light…
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9yVNTdc9R8OdmyUm95gWLp5rQA4_ImR5JGjzalqWtZnXgYTPTcfqTIBImn-7sX65ZXb9MvYjNuZeXQPBS73XCdTP-Esg3qMlks4C5BikvSIxUeqFi9eq-gC5sBVHPke6PjFYg1DA-6mI/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9yVNTdc9R8OdmyUm95gWLp5rQA4_ImR5JGjzalqWtZnXgYTPTcfqTIBImn-7sX65ZXb9MvYjNuZeXQPBS73XCdTP-Esg3qMlks4C5BikvSIxUeqFi9eq-gC5sBVHPke6PjFYg1DA-6mI/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Credit: Street art in Fort Kochi by GuessWho!</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">An India that uses no cash; as ideas go
that’s pretty seductive. And viewed from the corridors of power, it’s probably
even more captivating given the possible rewards, especially the political and
reputational capital that will accrue to whoever helms the desertion of cash. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">But the thing is, cash has evolved over
centuries into an almost perfect instrument for the exchange of goods and
services because it is instantly valuable, widely accepted and convenient. And
that’s the sort of utility it would be injudicious to discount while imagining
a cashless world. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">The other thing to remember is that grand
ideas often ignore or gloss over the devils that lurk in the details. And if
experience is anything to go by, we in India appear to have a congenital ability
to believe that the details will take care of themselves. Mostly though, they
don’t. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Given how many Indias exist, sometimes in
parallel, sometimes intersecting, it would be imprudent to embark on a single sweeping
move to a cashless economy. Instead, adopting a strategy of aggregation of
marginal gains through small but continuous improvements could get us there
just as quickly, but without the trauma and uncertainty that will obviously
accompany a forced move. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s also probably premature to talk about a
cashless India at this moment, given how many of the more evolved economies,
with fewer people, still use a fair bit of cash. Instead, it would be more
sensible to aim for — at least in the medium term — a cash-light India where
cashless transactions overtake ones that use cash. Getting there will, itself,
be a pretty significant accomplishment. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">The government has created a committee to
look at how India can go cashless, and that’s a welcome step. But as someone
who uses both cash and e-payment options, what concerns me is that a move to a
cashless economy or even a cash-light one should benefit all Indians. And if we
are to make that transition to e-payment relatively painless we may want to
address some of these issues. <span> </span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Scrap
minimum limits and transaction charges</span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Very often in India, you have to either spend
a minimum amount to use a debit or credit card or pay a transaction charge. And
sometimes, no matter how much you spend, you still have to pay a transaction
charge if you use a card. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">If we want e-payments to dominate, these
constraints on electronic transactions have to go, permanently. Of course banks
and card and e-wallet companies need to <a href="http://www.indiatimes.com/news/india/while-they-help-push-digital-payments-in-india-mastercard-visa-and-rupay-face-a-revenue-loss-of-rs-1-000-crore-266613.html" target="_blank">earn their bread</a>. So perhaps some of
the bright people in Delhi’s North Block or at the RBI can figure out a way to
scrap transaction charges on e-payments while also ensuring that the companies’
revenues aren’t hit; government subsidies or tax breaks, perhaps? And while
they’re at it, could they look at banks removing transaction charges on online
and offline bank transfers for non-premium customers too? </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Creating
the infrastructure for e-payments<span> </span></span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Some months ago, I was settling a large-ish
bill at a hotel in a slightly remote location. But my card just wouldn’t work
despite being swiped through three different machines from three different
banks. Finally, a hotel staffer gave the machine with my card in it a hard
whack and voila, the transaction went through. I’m not sure if the problem was
with my card, the hotel’s card machines or its Internet connection. But I
shudder to think of what would have happened if I’d found myself in a similar
situation over the past few weeks and whacking the card reader hadn’t worked. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">While the use of e-payments has steadily
grown over the past few years, it’s clear that the infrastructure required to
ensure these systems function flawlessly hasn’t grown as quickly. And over the
past few weeks, e-payments have shot up but anecdotal evidence indicates that
incidents of card or e-wallet failures have also increased possibly because of
the high levels of stress on the networks. In several instances, outlets that
claim to accept e-wallets weren’t actually ready to do so. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Another aspect of going cashless is the need
to address quality levels in our banking and financial infrastructure. Given
how iffy e-payments often are, we need to have laws that prescribe and enforce
minimum standards for all technology, material and other elements — cards, electronic
chips, card machines, network gear, Internet connections and so on — used in
our banking and financial infrastructure. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Yes, the RBI does have guidelines on certain
aspects of electronic transactions, but it’s unclear if they are legally binding
and what happens if banks don’t follow them. </span><span>And yes, India’s Information Technology Act has some general provisions
that can be applied to electronic financial transactions. But what we need is a
law that specifically and comprehensively covers issues related to electronic
financial and banking transactions, including oversight, processes and systems,
technology standards and equipment and material standards. </span><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Better
consumer education</span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">A few months ago, several people in Kerala
were tricked into parting with their debit card information, including the PIN,
to someone who claimed to be calling from the victims’ bank. In each instance,
the victim was defrauded of several thousand rupees. What was disturbing about
these incidents was that all those who were defrauded were mid-level government
officials who should have known better than to reveal sensitive financial and
personal information to an unknown caller. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">At first glance this seems to be an instance
of people being careless with personal information, but that’s not the entire
picture. For instance, I often get a call, ostensibly from my bank, a few minutes
after I have used my card. The caller usually wants me to confirm using the
card and then insists I authenticate my identity by revealing more personal
information — just the sort of thing banks warn customers against doing.
Occasionally, I’m even told the transaction will be cancelled if I do not
confirm my identity by answering the questions put to me. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s in these spaces where banking and technology
intersect that people, including otherwise careful people, seem to throw
caution to the winds possibly driven by the fear of losing access to their
money. And given that many of us are still not entirely comfortable with
technology, though we may use it, there’s room for things to go awry. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">The RBI and individual banks frequently
highlight the need for exercising caution, especially while revealing personal
information or using debit cards or conducting online transactions. But obviously,
this isn’t enough. While there’s certainly an element of individual
responsibility involved, it’s also important to invest in much more effective
and widespread initiatives to promote awareness of safe banking practices. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Information
security and privacy protection</span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">In India, we tend to be very blasé about
privacy. The general approach seems to be ‘what’s the big deal’, which is
reflected in the existing patchwork of guidelines, rules and laws on privacy
and data protection. We’ve even had public figures quip about privacy being
dead since people use social media, without realising that using social media
involves an element of choice that doesn’t really exist when it comes to
banking and similar transactions. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Then, there’s the issue of data security,
which has become particularly urgent over the past few months after a series of
fraudulent transactions using <a href="http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/industry/banking/finance/banking/3-2-million-debit-cards-compromised-sbi-hdfc-bank-icici-yes-bank-and-axis-worst-hit/articleshow/54945561.cms" target="_blank">stolen debit card</a> information. There’s so much of
opacity around some of these incidents that it isn’t yet publicly clear just
where and how the breaches occurred and what their impact is.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"><b>Given that researchers at Newcastle
University seem to have <a href="http://www.ncl.ac.uk/press/news/2016/12/cyberattack/" target="_blank">hacked Visa credit cards</a> in just 6 seconds can’t help wonder
how secure all these e-transactions and digital transactions really are. And I
really don’t think biometric protection offers any sustainable answers either.</b> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">What all this highlights is that it’s time
for us to get serious about protecting personal financial information,
especially if we want to promote electronic transactions. Of course there are
certain circumstances under which financial data will have to be accessed and
shared; credit reports, for instance. So what we need is to spell out very
clearly who can access an individual’s personal financial data, for what, to
what extent, what such data can be used for and what happens if there is a
security breach. And this will be possible only if we have coherent and
comprehensive privacy and data protection laws that match the best in the
world. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Ensuring
inclusive banking </span></b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Quite a bit has been done over the past several
years to reach out to those on the margins and improve financial inclusion. But
for many, banking is still extremely unfamiliar territory. So any move towards
a cashless economy needs to be preceded by meaningful efforts to help people on
the margins get comfortable with modern banking and help them learn how to use
banking and e-payment technology safely. In addition, banking technology
infrastructure across the country needs to be bolstered and those who work in
banks and financial institutions need to be trained to be more empathetic and
inclusive while attending to less-affluent customers. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-28573962835267772882016-07-15T20:14:00.001+05:302022-06-20T10:42:53.844+05:30Making cheese at Beecher’s <style>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJl3HeeJZ8jrMlNE6TcRe57DKFGRcBIfU7czuHJT96zqoyuzx-4wP9LCoH2W7lnJboDcdPLAWwEXynzqQ6MOYY2hBmpRxGTm6eht9O_noLprW361gcxGnNrUwdKoSFIQ7yylnYSPBvmpk/s1600/1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="367" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJl3HeeJZ8jrMlNE6TcRe57DKFGRcBIfU7czuHJT96zqoyuzx-4wP9LCoH2W7lnJboDcdPLAWwEXynzqQ6MOYY2hBmpRxGTm6eht9O_noLprW361gcxGnNrUwdKoSFIQ7yylnYSPBvmpk/s400/1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<i><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">A version of this piece is
in the July issue of <a href="https://natgeotraveller.in/for-the-love-of-cheese-crossing-continents-for-cheddar/" target="_blank">National Geographic Traveller India</a>. </span></span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">My gloved hands feel a trifle wobbly. The large crumbly cream-ish
loaf I’m cradling weighs only a couple of kilos, but the thought of flipping it
over makes it feel like a tonne. It looks easy, but I’m worried I’ll make a
hash of it. I take a deep breath and flip. The loaf emerges unscathed; I flip
another and another.</span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span><br />
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">I’m in the glass-walled cheesemaking kitchen of <a href="http://www.beechershandmadecheese.com/" target="_blank">Beecher’s Handmade Cheese</a> in Seattle’s <a href="http://pikeplacemarket.org/" target="_blank">Pike Place Market</a>. And I’ve been helping to cheddar cheese
— cutting curds into loaves, then stacking and flipping the loaves multiple times
to drain out all the whey.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">For as long as I can remember, cheese has been an integral part of
my life. The first cheese I tasted as a child was probably a cheddar from the
now shut Koshy’s department store in Bangalore. Since then, I’ve discovered and
enjoyed cheeses from around the world, developing a special fondness for
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roquefort" target="_blank">Roquefort</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mimolette" target="_blank">Mimolette</a> from France and <a href="http://www.cheese.com/kapiti-kikorangi/" target="_blank">Kikorangi</a> from New Zealand. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">And then, in 2013, I nibbled on a sliver of Beecher’s Flagship Raw
Milk and fell in love. It tasted like no cheese I’d sampled before. Creamy and
nutty, with a sprinkling of magic, there was something comfortingly elemental
about it. It was heaven in a wedge — the taste of home. It was also the
beginning of a quest to learn more about this artisanal cheesemaker, visit its
cheesemaking facility and, of course, sample more of its award-winning
cheese. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">On a hot summer morning, two years and many emails after my first
bite of Beecher’s, I’m in the heart of Seattle’s Pike Place Market all set to
spend a day at Beecher’s Handmade Cheese. My wife and I are early for our 9 am
appointment so we wander through the market, famous for its fresh produce and
interesting handcrafted goods. We dawdle in front of the fishmongers’ stalls
with their eye-catching displays and the flower sellers’ tables. Framed in a
window between two stalls is a swatch of the cerulean waters of Elliott
Bay. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWyQyBw2BwTzW4RYelKF4_Kp-FA9YyyhCzCf8G29g3XVVNh2l5pUnSK7e7x-0pqPvKgqKrqHXqQTJfF0a_-Alczf2k3t9f1d5_T4hqL6sml-Hgu11l4tNIH_p7WdAJ0wf1dVgmcXLo90/s1600/2.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifWyQyBw2BwTzW4RYelKF4_Kp-FA9YyyhCzCf8G29g3XVVNh2l5pUnSK7e7x-0pqPvKgqKrqHXqQTJfF0a_-Alczf2k3t9f1d5_T4hqL6sml-Hgu11l4tNIH_p7WdAJ0wf1dVgmcXLo90/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Beecher's cheesemaking kitchen in Seattle.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">As we watch, people line up in front of the Beecher’s store-café
eager to breakfast on its Mac and cheese or grilled sandwiches. Others peer through
the glass walls of the adjoining cheesemaking kitchen.</span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">We enter the store and luxuriate in the heavenly burnt-butter aroma
of sandwiches on the grill and tangy vapours of tomato soup bubbling in a pot.
While we wait for Sharif Ball, then the company’s head cheesemaker and
production manager in Seattle, I think about the Beecher’s story. It begins in
2002, with food entrepreneur Kurt Beecher Dammeier leasing space in Pike Place
Market and deciding to make great cheese, fuelled by childhood memories of
local cheeses and a passion for pure, fresh, wholesome and flavourful food. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Today, the Beecher’s store, café and cheesemaking kitchen in Seattle
is a Pike Place institution that draws tourists and turophiles or cheese lovers
alike. The company also has a second facility in New York’s Flatiron District
and cafes at Seattle-Tacoma airport and in Bellevue near Seattle.</span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Escorting us into a cramped office next to the long, rectangular kitchen,
Ball points us towards lockers where we stow our bags and change into smocks
and trousers, pull on boots, arm guards, masks and caps, and wash our hands
with warm water and soap. Just inside the kitchen, there’s a further cleansing
ritual as we pull on gloves. I feel like I’m entering an operation theatre, but
understandably, hygiene is an obsession here. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">The kitchen itself is all gleaming steel — vats, pipes, trays,
shelves — broken by swathes of white of the milk and curds. Cheesemaking in
Beecher’s is an almost 24-hour operation, beginning with the milk being tested
and pumped into the large vats very early in the morning. The store in Seattle
processes about 18,000 litres of cow’s milk, free of additives, hormones and
antibiotics, sourced from dairy farms near the city, every day. So it comes in
fresh, says Michael Staley, one of the company’s expert cheesemakers. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Beecher’s pasteurises the milk that goes into most of its cheese.
The pasteurised milk is then pumped into an open vat where microbial cultures
and rennet are added causing curds and whey to form. This mixture is repeatedly
cut, ‘cooked’ — stirred and heated — and pumped into another vat where the
whey is drained and cheddaring by hand begins. Salt is added and the salted
curds are packed into moulds called ‘hoops’ and loaded into a cheese press for
8-12 hours to drain out more whey. The cheese is then cut, vacuum-sealed and
aged for several months or years depending on the type of cheese being made. Of
course, not all cheese made by Beecher’s is a cheddar and the process varies
accordingly. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Even as Staley takes us through the process, I’m struck by how
physical cheesemaking is, with the effort involved in cheddaring and the hours
spent on your feet. One of the other cheesemakers quips that it’s a good way to
stay fit. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">I also notice how involved in the process Staley and the other
cheesemakers are, working with an effortless expertise, cutting the curds one
minute, washing the equipment the next, all the while checking on the
temperature, acidity and moisture levels of the milk and the curds and keeping
track of the time each process takes. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">The Seattle facility makes about 1,800 kg of cheese every day, Ball
says. Much of the cheese produced is the company’s immensely popular Flagship,
though it makes several other types. There is, for instance, the buttery but
spicy Marco Polo with lightly milled peppercorns blended in and the smoky No
Woman, infused with Jamaican Jerk spices that pack a punch. The Raw Milk
Flagship I fell in love with, though, is made just a couple of times a year,
with special precautions since it involves unpasteurised milk. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBFSKBWrIoSstsMmd72e3gzfkjw-_kWMNH6A0g_C9TndKPmryZXMxAoPxccqUP4dLQLnYPxfiUou5MFZEF4b9b4BV7p_MkkmGEDdIIX-gwz9WA3tjSHHbgxiDb1wVa7s3iYW2ZoETdJnQ/s1600/3.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBFSKBWrIoSstsMmd72e3gzfkjw-_kWMNH6A0g_C9TndKPmryZXMxAoPxccqUP4dLQLnYPxfiUou5MFZEF4b9b4BV7p_MkkmGEDdIIX-gwz9WA3tjSHHbgxiDb1wVa7s3iYW2ZoETdJnQ/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Beecher's store-cafe in Seattle's Pike Place Market.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">While we talk, I look out through the kitchen’s glass walls. It does
feel a little unnerving with the curious onlookers outside, their faces and
cameras pressed-up against the glass. Yet the glass walls bring the market’s
bustle and colour into the kitchen, giving it a shot of energy. </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">What is it that makes Beecher’s cheese special, I ask Ball. Pat
comes the reply: “Attention to detail and quality.” He thinks for a bit and
adds: “Everyone here wants to make delicious cheese. A lot of love goes into
it.”</span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"></span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">As we leave the cheesemaking kitchen and head to the café where a
Beecher’s grilled cheese sandwich awaits, I think about that. Food made with
love and joy. No wonder the cheese tastes like heaven. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB"><b>The vitals </b><b> </b> </span></span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Visitors can watch all the action in the
cheesemaking kitchens of the Beecher’s store-café in Seattle while enjoying a
meal (<i>1600 Pike Place; 9 a.m. -7 p.m. daily; mac and cheese from $5.02 and
grilled cheese sandwiches from $5.94</i>). Some Pike Place Market tours,
including </span>Savor Seattle,
stop at Beecher’s for tastings. <i><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://www.beechershandmadecheese.com/">www.beechershandmadecheese.com</a></span></i></span></span></div>
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-34628492756287982052016-01-31T18:36:00.000+05:302016-04-20T08:44:08.221+05:30For my father <div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7BoPZZM4yqfblJhhUrysAlxPZt73T8rQLWML8CKRyCaVRNyJ8UaQIQ2HydBdGDW2FYQfpQcPxyqJUqKi3yQL3IsqP3-200Yj5aVQwugHhNbUTyhPySFb4D-9Mfd46sfIyLX9uu6jDFY/s1600/RF001+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7BoPZZM4yqfblJhhUrysAlxPZt73T8rQLWML8CKRyCaVRNyJ8UaQIQ2HydBdGDW2FYQfpQcPxyqJUqKi3yQL3IsqP3-200Yj5aVQwugHhNbUTyhPySFb4D-9Mfd46sfIyLX9uu6jDFY/s320/RF001+.jpg" width="112" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">For a heartbeat, a lifetime of devotion triumphed over dementia’s
raging incursion. As the opening bars of ‘<i>Jana Gana Mana</i>’ to mark the end of
this year’s Republic Day Parade in Delhi drifted from the television, my
89-year-old father started and then attempted to stand up on legs that no
longer quite work. Somewhere inside a mind whose circuits have almost been obliterated
by dementia, the old soldier knew that this was his country’s song and that he
had to stand to attention.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">He isn't perfect. But <span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">i</span>n the 30-odd years he was an officer in the Indian Air Force and
the decades since, commitment to India and its people were the values he lived
by. And one of those values was to stand to attention for the national anthem.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Once, a few years after he retired, we were at an event in my
school. The school band struck up the national anthem, not to signal the end of
proceedings, but as part of their repertoire. And like a shot, my dad was on
his feet; this drew some strange looks, but we all followed. I squirmed then at
the unwelcome attention that came our way. But now, whenever I think about that
incident, it’s pride I feel, dusted with a pinch of shame for having squirmed
back then.</span> </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">And that is what I breathed into his ear a few
days ago. Hoping that somewhere inside what lingers of his mind a cluster of
neurons would fire and let him know how very proud I am of him and how much of
the good there is in me is largely because of him.</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-16597312251082330582015-11-11T07:57:00.002+05:302015-11-11T07:57:31.899+05:30Writing with a punch<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">Did a version of this for </span></i><a href="http://www.thehindu.com/books/literary-review/sankar-radhakrishnan-reviews-hadal/article7854728.ece" target="_blank"><span lang="EN-GB">The Hindu Sunday Magazine/Literary Review</span></a><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">In October 1994 the Kerala Police arrested a Maldivian woman,
writing the first lines of what was to become the ‘ISRO spy case’. Initially taken
into custody for allegedly staying on in India after her visa had expired, the
woman, Mariam Rasheeda, was later charged with espionage. Over the following
weeks the reach of the ‘spy’ case expanded, bringing into question the
loyalties of an assortment of individuals, including two scientists with the
Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO).</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIhThBRfrawrxcbVChva987WHUtja_gkrKCzd1BW5hVl9LyQXkx_g2Sf4EOEMO4GocOp9plNyKcBawim2bMgfOEcwGiou0EWKV1w8ZK7hVgsS8ipSQrFXQQ7zjiwzBXw5vycm4Mye16J8/s1600/Hadal+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIhThBRfrawrxcbVChva987WHUtja_gkrKCzd1BW5hVl9LyQXkx_g2Sf4EOEMO4GocOp9plNyKcBawim2bMgfOEcwGiou0EWKV1w8ZK7hVgsS8ipSQrFXQQ7zjiwzBXw5vycm4Mye16J8/s200/Hadal+.jpg" width="127" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Some months later, it became clear that the ‘spy case’ was a fairy
tale and in 1998 the Supreme Court confirmed that the case had been fabricated.
It is presumably this ‘real-life incident’ that has inspired C.P. Surendran’s
novel <i>Hadal</i>.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">So there’s Miriam Zacharias, a young-ish aspiring writer from the
Maldives, who takes a break from her life back home and heads to Trivandrum to
write a book. There, her path crosses that of the intriguingly-named Honey Bhimrao
Jaspreet Kumar, a cough syrup-swigging, oversexed police officer from Delhi on
a punishment posting as the Foreigners’ Regional Registration Officer in Kerala’s
capital. Honey, who’s terrified of falling coconuts, wants to have sex with the
luscious Miriam. And when she refuses, he dreams-up up an espionage case
against her and her Indian paramour Roy Paul, an ISRO scientist.</span><i><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">Hadal</span></i><span lang="EN-GB"> — derived from the Greek ‘hades’ or ‘underworld’ also refers to the
deepest trenches in the sea where pressure is extremely high — is not just the
Miriam-Honey-Roy story. It is interspersed with a smorgasbord of tales, some of
which seem tangential, at best, to the overall plot. So there’s the story of an
Indian couple whose son has been taken into protective care by the authorities
in Norway. Then, there’s American academic-activist Haws and the tale of his involvement
in an agitation against a nuclear power plant in a village somewhere south of Trivandrum.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">That Surendran has a way with words is undeniable. There’s a
lushness to the writing that makes <i>Hadal</i>
less of a book and more of a film. The words and the images they conjure are
powerful, often vivid, and the universe they build is sometimes surreal. Like
this line that stayed with me: “Ever since, Roy had been faithful to Old Spice,
and had developed a weakness for the lingering fragrance of the truth in small
runaway treasons in hotel rooms like this.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s equally undeniable that Surendran’s writing, like his speech,
is often self-consciously droll and occasionally smart-alecky, with characters
who echo these traits. Like the whistle-blower who says: “I’m a
whistle-blower.” Or the cast of interesting characters, occasionally with quirky
names, that populate the book — Cardinal Telespore Lobo, the church leader; Thomas
Lawrence Pappan, the crafty chief minister; and Aladi Ram Mohan, Honey’s mentor
and partner in crime.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Then, there are the pithy one-liners that pepper <i>Hadal</i>. Sample this one from the book’s
anti-hero, Honey: “The world was a crowd-sourced construct.” Or the one from
Roy: “The substance of the (sic) evil was the heart.” Clever as these
meditations on the universe are, they begin to grate just a bit after a while.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">What is slightly more disconcerting is the rather abrupt change in
pace, with the pleasing languor of the early portions giving way to haste in
the final chapters. Things happen in a rush and suddenly it’s all over, with an
ending that resembles a “crowd-sourced construct” that doesn’t quite go the
distance.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Now the extent to which a work of fiction reflects reality is
flexible. Yet, details that match reality add to the power of the narrative. But
what nags me about <i>Hadal</i> is the baffling
lack of attention to detail right through. For instance, as anyone with some familiarity
with the Indian bureaucracy knows, it’s rare to find a very senior bureaucrat
who drives himself around or waits at an airport baggage carousel to pick up
his bags. Yet, Aladi Ram Mohan does just that. And he’s supposed to be the head
of the Intelligence Bureau.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Similarly, at the risk of sounding like I’m nit picking, it is a
little strange to read about Kerala’s chief minister Pappan wearing “loose,
white linen trousers.” A Kerala minister wearing trousers rather than a mundu
or dhoti while in the State is unlikely.</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="EN-GB">Such distractions apart, Hadal is a work in
which the craft, for the most part, sparkles, dispelling some of the gloom of
the world it portrays.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-982248223705694147.post-5777628912616587982015-10-24T19:25:00.003+05:302016-01-31T18:37:12.146+05:30Celebrating Concorde<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZw1LAF2GoA1_3C2weym2KTCUbARwQYILtsdda8u59fOtJAY1zRHkBwMDArhU372RAXEbnOi_C8GNLrmthNaMbr0TpBDXYULP1yVPJKNHyP_50M3N35frdHQA7Ke2hzZLrnptVZMQBV9k/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZw1LAF2GoA1_3C2weym2KTCUbARwQYILtsdda8u59fOtJAY1zRHkBwMDArhU372RAXEbnOi_C8GNLrmthNaMbr0TpBDXYULP1yVPJKNHyP_50M3N35frdHQA7Ke2hzZLrnptVZMQBV9k/s200/1.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">In the picture to the right, is the most famous nose in the world. Well,
perhaps I should have added a qualifier like ‘arguably’ or ‘possibly’ or
‘perhaps’ in the previous sentence, but the Pinocchio-ish nose of <a href="http://www.britishairways.com/en-gb/information/about-ba/history-and-heritage/celebrating-concorde" target="_blank">Concorde</a> is
rather distinctive. Of course, Concorde itself is unique for it is one of only
two supersonic airliners or supersonic transports (SST) to have flown
commercially.</span> </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The rather distinctive nose (and the body behind it too) in the
pictures in this post is of the Concorde referred to as <a href="http://www.concordesst.com/214.html" target="_blank">‘Alpha Golf’</a>, with the
registration number G-BOAG. Now on display at Seattle’s <a href="http://www.museumofflight.org/aircraft/concorde" target="_blank">Museum of Flight</a>, Alpha
Golf was the plane that operated the final scheduled Concorde flight on 24
October 2003. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk/3211053.stm" target="_blank">12 years ago today</a> that Alpha Golf flew from New York’s John
F. Kennedy airport to London’s Heathrow airport. Or to put it a little
differently, it’s been 12 years since ‘Speedbird Concorde 002’ operated from
JFK to LHR, executing a <a href="https://forums.vatsim.net/viewtopic.php?p=137838" target="_blank">Canarsie climb</a> on take off. <span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">For 27 years, Concorde operated by British Airways and Air France
almost put ‘time in a bottle’ as they flew faster than any airliner before them
or since. They could, for instance, fly from London to New York and back in the
time it took an ordinary aircraft to fly one way. As the British Airways site <a href="http://www.britishairways.com/en-gb/information/about-ba/history-and-heritage/celebrating-concorde" target="_blank">says</a>:
“</span>Concorde’s fastest transatlantic
crossing was on 7 February 1996 when it completed the New York to London flight
in 2 hours 52 minutes and 59 seconds.” <span lang="EN-GB">And the Concorde
flew for many more years than its rival, the Russian </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tupolev_Tu-144" target="_blank">Tupolev Tu-144</a>.<span lang="EN-GB"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB">I came face-to-face — almost, since it towered over me — with my
first Concorde at the <a href="http://sankarrad.blogspot.in/2015/03/meeting-blackbird.html" target="_blank">Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum’s Udvar-Hazy Center</a> in Virginia a few years ago. My more meaningful Concorde experience was a
recent tour of G-BOAG. Among the most striking aspects of this aircraft that
defines the age of glamorous and luxurious air travel is just how cramped its
cabin is. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6yJAmNH7giDwfuz-UHz0KcDLoo9MBF0cmhLaew2Pu4TuL-7ZdgrB2yZprhP0622hU1VHnk8W6zYfL3wF1pf2QjmwVVCRQezOLltEMzXwvNK4XiZ66h5mr1eiy8_mY5hi_kx6Em-t7bM/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho6yJAmNH7giDwfuz-UHz0KcDLoo9MBF0cmhLaew2Pu4TuL-7ZdgrB2yZprhP0622hU1VHnk8W6zYfL3wF1pf2QjmwVVCRQezOLltEMzXwvNK4XiZ66h5mr1eiy8_mY5hi_kx6Em-t7bM/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">Besides operating British Airways’ last Concorde schedule, Alpha
Golf also has another record under its wings. On its very last flight to The Museum
of Flight in Seattle, on 5 November 2003, Alpha Golf set a New York to Seattle
speed record of 3 hours, 55 minutes, and 12 seconds.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">There’s some talk of getting Concorde flying again. I’m not too sure
if that’s going to pan out.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: small;">I know, though, I’ll never fly on Concorde, probably. And yet, I can’t
help wishing I had, for there’s something about this aircraft. Even something
as ordinary as <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8sKKkNjj_A0" target="_blank">a recording</a> of the final conversation between Kennedy air traffic
control and the pilots of Concorde feels special. That’s the magic of
Concorde. </span></span></div>
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