JS's posterous

The story of Indian politics

While walking down the street one day a 'Member of Parliament' is
tragically hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is
met by St. Peter at the entrance.
'Welcome to heaven,' says St. Peter. 'Before you settle in, it seems
there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts,
you see, so we're not sure what to do with you.' 'No problem, just let me in,' says the man. 'Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is
have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose
where to spend eternity.' 'Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in heaven,' says the MP.
'I'm sorry, but we have our rules.' And with that, St. Peter escorts
him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors
open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the
distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his
friends and other politicians who had worked with him.
Everyone is very happy and in evening dress. They run to greet him,
shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while
getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game
of golf and then dine on lobster, caviar and champagne. Also present
is the devil, who really is a very friendly & nice guy who has a good
time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that
before he realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty
farewell and waves while the elevator rises... The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St.
Peter is waiting for him. 'Now it's time to visit heaven.' So, 24 hours pass with the MP joining a group of contented souls
moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a
good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and
St. Peter returns.
'Well, then, you've spent a day in hell and another in heaven.
'Now choose your eternity.'
The MP reflects for a minute, then he answers: 'Well, I would never
have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think I
would be better off in hell.' So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down
to hell. Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren
land covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his friends, dressed
in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more
trash falls from above. The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. 'I
don't understand,' stammers the MP. 'Yesterday I was here and there
was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank
champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there's just a
wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. 'What
happened?' The devil looks at him, smiles and says, 'Yesterday we were
campaigning... Today you voted.' Good luck

IAC Public Meeting, Bangalore

Public Consultation of Jan Lokpal Bill in Bangalore

India Against Corruption - Koramangala 1st May 2011 8 pm.

The notice was short, but we had about 50 people show up. Strong and growing!

An Alternate View of Sathya Sai Baba

First: I never was a “follower” of Sathya Sai Baba as in religious matters.

When I was about 32, I too was quick to categorise him as a fake as many who question the trickery in his magical powers. This video making the rounds has, similarly, many people belittling the spiritual leader. Most are ‘educated’ and ‘rational’ people, like me. Except that since those “young” days and in the 32 yrs that have followed since my first exposure to Sai Baba, I seem to have learnt a lesson that the young Raju (Satya Sai Baba’s original name)  born in Puttaparthi learnt as a kid. This blog is about that lesson. It’s not about Sathya Sai Baba as a miracle man, but about him as an emancipated human being who served the very people who showered their love on him.

The educated need rational explanations to begin to understand and then, perhaps, follow a path. That is both the strength and the curse of the educated. My views on this subject of “belief” are in my blog: “This is God” and I do not wish to elaborate here. However, in order to understand the context of this piece, a mention of that blog is relevant. Do browse it.

The uneducated need another kind of explanation to understand and follow a path. Since they are not schooled in formal logic and scientific methods, they adopt a simple test: WYSIWYG – what you see is what you get. I dare say, many who consider themselves educated are also not quite the scholars of scientific method that they’d like to be and in reality, follow just the crowd.

The masses fall into category 2 in India: Uneducated. When the masses are ‘attracted’ by means that they relate to, they follow. When masses gather, the ‘educated’ soon follow, if only at first to fathom the Guru’s power of attraction. Soon, the mass hysteria takes over and then the ‘educated’ become followers too. When celebs follow (for their own reasons!), everyone is interested. That’s the commonly held phenomenon that Sathya Sai Baba was.

The real-world Sai Baba is worth emulating for his deeds.

Most people with a mass following use it for self-aggrandisation, accumulating wealth and seizing power. The examples are so many that I don’t need to list any.

But what did Satya Sai Baba do? He set up hospitals, schools, colleges, and provided drinking water for the very people who worshipped him. He gave it all back. He left it all in a trust rather than in his personal wealth. That is the real phenomenon of Satya Sai Baba.

That is why I consider him an emancipated soul, one worth emulating.

It is also my opinion that, like me in my early days, the ‘educated’ miss the woods for the trees when they are fixated with the magician’s trade that Satya Sai Baba used to bring together millions of people who heeded his words.

This is one case where the majority is right. Where common wisdom is indeed that: wisdom.

Shri Shri Shri Sathya Sai Baba, may your soul rest in peace.

@jsvasan

FB: http://www.facebook.com/jsvasan

The Fallacy that Democracy = A better life

The falacy that democracy = freedom is best illustrated by India. I point to the naxal movement as also to the tsunami of corruption scandals exposed these last 2 years and rest my case.

How different is India from Egypt?

Only in ONE way – freedom of speech. When that was abbrogated briefly during India’s “Emergency”, it led to a revolt just like the one in Egypt; except India dealt with it in an election. Everything else remains comparable with the situation in Egypt.

The irony is human beings aren’t actually looking for democracy; People looking for equity, fair play & justice and the freedom & opportunity to aspire for a better life. Thats what all the hoopla boils down to.

This isn't my own theory; it's Maslow's hierarchy of human needs I was taught at IIMA. The only exception is he postulated it in the context of marketing management!

The public needs a "simple" and "single" idea to get transfixed upon and then chase mindlessly. That's why they termed it as "democracy" - and made it marketable. And like all marketing, they spin the benefits and not the duties & drawbacks.

Actually, dictatorships (aka Kingdoms) which ensure that the aspirations of it’s people are met enjoy a great deal of harmony and progress even though their freedom of speech is delicately limited: UAE, KSA, China, etc. apart from the whole history of Indian Kings over a thousand years!

Conversely, when people find that the only access to prosperity and a good life are the preserve of a few, while the majority are left to face an unresponsive administration and justice & equity is only available to the few connected, rich & famous, their experience is one of denial of ‘freedom’ even if their laws theoritically grant them the ‘freedom’ – equity, justice and a good life.

This is India’s situation. And growing worse with an inept and corrupt ruling clan.

Since this realisation is slow to dawn, so will the pressure be slow to build to a bursting point. But when it does, and I dare say it will, the events of Egypt will look like a low tidal wave against the tsunami that will be witnessed.

The Egyptian revolution is credited to the youth using the internet/social media as a tool to communicate and gather in the streets. Even though they “feared” the authorities would swoop down on them for their anti-establishment posts.

Yet, in India, we do NOT see people expressing themselves freely, even though we “enjoy” a theoritical freedom of speech. Why?

It’s the fear and selfishness of the middle class, not the regime that is their worst enemy.

For that to change, the middle class must reach the depths of the “experience” of life as the rural poor did -  like the Naxals. Till then, the pressure will continue to grow in the cooker with no outward signals of an impending explosion.

@jsvasan

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes. - Marcel Proust

Hot Chocolate

God teach me how to be a good dad

The wife handed him the sealed envelope and stood aside.

The small crowd at the funeral stood in pin drop silence when the son read out the man’s last will and testament.

It was just one sheet and the took just a few minutes to read out. It said:

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I went to great lengths to search and adopt him when he was but a baby in a cradle, abandoned by a mother who didn’t want him.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I brought him home by 1^st class air when I had but travelled by 2^nd class sleeper train till then.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I took him to the best doctors to ensure he received the attention he needed so that he would be a healthy man when he grew up.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I spent every weekend at the park with him till he was six and only wanted his friends.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I bought him nice gifts every birthday and had all his friends to sing when he cut the cake, till he ran away from home.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I admitted him to the best schools in town and dropped and picked him up, every single day.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I bought him any toy he wanted, though they never lasted more than a few days.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I only admonished him softly when he kept stealing from my purse.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I brought him to a hospital and had the best surgeons fix his broken bones when his car hit a train and smashed it to smithereens.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I picked him up from the local bar when he was lying on the footpath and had him sober up in comfort.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I picked him up from the smashed car when he hit a pole and nearly dies and took him to the hospital.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I paid up for the half-way-home when he had to sober up again and again.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I took him in when he ran away time and again only to show up torn and tattered at the gate in the wee hours of the morning.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I set him up in furnished accommodation, even though he’d lose it all again and again.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I made excuses for him and protect his name when he was the only no-show at my 60^th birthday party.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I paid up the credit cards when they came looking for him at my house when he was nowhere to be found.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I lie to my friends when they ask me about him. He has a life to live while mine is but over.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why I suffer in silence when I don’t know what’s happening to him or where he is.

My son says that I don’t love him.

That’s why when I die, I’ll ask God to teach me how to be a good dad.

-       Author unknown.

Just Stay

A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside.
"Your son is here," she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man's hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile. He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital - the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.

Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her.

"Who was that man?" he asked.

The nurse was startled, "He was your father," she answered.

"No, he wasn't," the Marine replied. "I never saw him before in my life."
"Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?"
"I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn't here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I just stayed."

I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His Son was Killed in Iraq today, and I was sent to inform him. What was this
Gentleman's Name?

The Nurse with Tears in Her Eyes Answered, "Mr. William Grey............."

The next time someone needs you ... just be there.
Just Stay

Let’s put tax cuts in terms everyone can understand

Suppose that every night, ten men go to their favorite bar for beer. The tab for all ten 

comes to $100 for ten pitchers. If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like 

this:

The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.

The fifth would pay $1.

The sixth would pay $3.

The seventh $7.

The eighth $12.

The ninth $18.

The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59.

So, that’s what they decided to do. The ten men drank in the bar every night and seemed quite happy with the

arrangement, until one day, the owner threw them a curve. 

 

“Since you are all such good customers,” he said, “I’m going to reduce the cost of your nightly tab by $20.”

 

So, now drinks for the ten only cost $80. The group still wanted to pay their tab the way we pay our taxes.  So, the first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free. 

But what about the other six, the paying customers?

How could they divvy up the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his ‘fair share’?

The six men realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted that from everybody’s share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being ‘PAID‘ to drink beer!

So, the bar owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man’s bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay. 

 

And so:

The fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100% savings).

The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33% savings).

The seventh now paid $5 instead of $7 (28% savings).

The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% savings).

The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 (22% savings).

The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% savings).

 

Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to drink for free. But once drunk and outside the bar, the men began to compare their savings.

“I only got a dollar out of the $20,” declared the sixth man. He pointed to the tenth man “but he got $10!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” exclaimed the fifth man. “I only saved a dollar, too. It’s unfair that he got ten times more than me!”

“That’s true!!” shouted the seventh man. “Why should he get $10 back when I got only $2? The wealthy get all the breaks!”

“Wait a minute,” yelled the first four men in unison. “We didn’t get anything at all. The system exploits the poor!”

The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.

 

The next night the tenth man didn’t show up at the bar, so the nine sat down and drank without him. But when it came time to pay the tab, they discovered something important. They didn’t have enough money  between all of them for

even half of the tab!

And that, boys and girls, journalists and college professors, is how our tax system works. The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up to pick up the tab anymore.

David R. Kamerschen, Ph.D.

Distinguished Professor of Economics

536 Brooks Hall

University of Georgia