Ask any passerby on the streets about Russia, and the response is predictable. It was a great nation, most powerful in the world at par with USA, but now much reduced in size, and shrunken in terms of power and prestige. This is the usual response. Yet, is this completely true? Has Russia slid from being the world’s most glorious power to now being a mere trifling? Let us examine this theory.
At the time of the ‘greatness’ of USSR, all the ‘republics’ within the Soviet were to have their own SSRs, thus the nation was an amalgamation of all these ‘local’ units. But while Ukraine, Belarus, Uzbekistan and all the other ‘republics’ have their own authority, Russia was denied an SSR. There was only one reason for this, and that was to deny another rival body to the supreme communist party. Russia contained 90 per cent of the land area of the Union and 72 per cent of the population. A local Russian body could easily oppose the centre. And most of these policies were framed at the time of Stalin’s Comradeship, clearly explains this fear, as he himself was a Georgian. The Russian people constantly faced discrimination of a sort in their own country. Crimea was Russian till as long as recorded history exists, yet it was ‘given’ over to Ukraine in order to appease the Ukrainians, now proud possessors of a naturally very prosperous piece of land. Russians also lost the land of their forefathers in the Steppes, as the Kazakhs were distributed highly fertile cotton growing soil, while the original tillers were packed off as slave labour in Siberia. Many were even transported to the Baltics or elsewhere as part of a ‘melting pot’ strategy. And to crown all this, the Russian Orthodox Church, the lifeline of the Motherland was stripped down naked, people forbidden to worship their gods. Yes, Russia may have been at the head of a powerful empire, yet the people may not have been colonizers.
We now come to the present scenario. Siberia produces oil, Oligarchs travel the world’s capitals as some of the richest men on earth, Russian ‘beauties’ are now amongst the luminaries of the fashion world and what’s more, Russians are even good at Lawn Tennis, a traditionally upper class sport. Under Putin’s leadership, the country is showing signs of an economic improvement from the doom and gloom of the nineties. St. Petersburg, barring the Cyrillic script on the sideways, actually appears a modern version of Detroit. And all this somehow makes the situation a bit scary.
Russia is a wounded nation. Misguided young people may want to change their nation’s destiny, and want to reclaim the imagined glory the nation possessed barely 20 years back. The situation is somewhat reminiscent of Germany in the 1930s. Now I shall not go so far as to suggest such cataclysmic a consequence for the whole world, yet Russia’s recent military manouvres near the western border and its claim to the North Pole, suggests a growing self-belief. The self-belief may not always have the best desired results.
The world requires Russian oil. And Russia requires the foreign wealth to keep pouring in. And the nation’s future is still in the hands of the people themselves. Russia may end up once again churning out deadly weapons as its primary focus. Or she could prove to be a glorious chapter in the history of free enterprise.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
To remove or not to?
The word ‘socialist’ is these days creating a massive ruckus in public. People all over the country are debating the validity of the inclusion of this S word in our Preamble, and thus its significant presence in our constitution. Powerful politicians and ‘liberal’ journalists are clamouring for the word to be dropped from the great document altogether. However, now that we are in this position, let’s just explore the meaning of the word ‘socialism’.
Does this word only mean an economic principle in which the means of production are owned by the public? Did Karl Marx himself have this narrow definition of this rather old word? Thus, is a socialist also necessarily a communist? Can a capitalist never work for the society and be termed a socialist entrepreneur?
To me, the word has utopian connotations. A socialist state is one where every individual strives for his/her own betterment at the same time benefiting society around. A capitalist owning vast swathes of personal wealth thus qualifies as a socialist if he/she invests in products deemed procurable by people while the workers too enjoy at least reasonable working conditions with some amount of personal social security. Our country is now experiencing growth as never known before, surely soon to touch the remarkable double digit growth figure. The dream socialist state which Nehru envisaged never came to fulfillment. Instead, Manmohan Singh’s dream economy based on individual enterprise is apparently working better. But this to me does not render the word socialist as anything dangerous, to be confined to the dustbin.
To an extent, the apathy of today’s policy makers and the free press can be understood. Communism was perhaps the biggest lie of the 20th century. Human beings were denied basic liberty and instead of enabling the labourer to rise, it expected all people to behave as labourers. We all know about the Gulag camps in Siberia, the forced hunger deaths of the 3 million Kulaks in Ukraine, the liquidation of all the Russian church personnel in Russia and indeed a lot more. Yet, organized communism definitely served one good purpose. The former capitalist nations could no longer remain as ‘capitalist’ if you like as before. They had to modify in fear of a labour uprising on Leninist lines. Thus, the working classes in America and Western Europe experienced reforms as never before. The labour class was now coerced into a coalition ironically to protect the interests of the largely well established liberal economies.
Thus, let us not totally abandon the word socialism from our lexicon. Our industrial growth and Forex reserves might be at an all time, the rupee might well be gaining ground, but this does not qualify us as anti-social. One would like to believe that the rise of India is not exclusive of any group in the country and benefits everybody. In that case, we might as well still swear by our preamble, and continue to include the word ‘socialist’ along with the so far less controversial ‘sovereign’.
Does this word only mean an economic principle in which the means of production are owned by the public? Did Karl Marx himself have this narrow definition of this rather old word? Thus, is a socialist also necessarily a communist? Can a capitalist never work for the society and be termed a socialist entrepreneur?
To me, the word has utopian connotations. A socialist state is one where every individual strives for his/her own betterment at the same time benefiting society around. A capitalist owning vast swathes of personal wealth thus qualifies as a socialist if he/she invests in products deemed procurable by people while the workers too enjoy at least reasonable working conditions with some amount of personal social security. Our country is now experiencing growth as never known before, surely soon to touch the remarkable double digit growth figure. The dream socialist state which Nehru envisaged never came to fulfillment. Instead, Manmohan Singh’s dream economy based on individual enterprise is apparently working better. But this to me does not render the word socialist as anything dangerous, to be confined to the dustbin.
To an extent, the apathy of today’s policy makers and the free press can be understood. Communism was perhaps the biggest lie of the 20th century. Human beings were denied basic liberty and instead of enabling the labourer to rise, it expected all people to behave as labourers. We all know about the Gulag camps in Siberia, the forced hunger deaths of the 3 million Kulaks in Ukraine, the liquidation of all the Russian church personnel in Russia and indeed a lot more. Yet, organized communism definitely served one good purpose. The former capitalist nations could no longer remain as ‘capitalist’ if you like as before. They had to modify in fear of a labour uprising on Leninist lines. Thus, the working classes in America and Western Europe experienced reforms as never before. The labour class was now coerced into a coalition ironically to protect the interests of the largely well established liberal economies.
Thus, let us not totally abandon the word socialism from our lexicon. Our industrial growth and Forex reserves might be at an all time, the rupee might well be gaining ground, but this does not qualify us as anti-social. One would like to believe that the rise of India is not exclusive of any group in the country and benefits everybody. In that case, we might as well still swear by our preamble, and continue to include the word ‘socialist’ along with the so far less controversial ‘sovereign’.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
The Fanatically Unfanatic!
The 20th century was easily the bloodiest ever. The World Wars and many more squabbles over territories, and all the by-products of war killed half a billion people over the hundred years. As a result, we have been left with an eternal scar marking our own generation. The conflicts were all racial, or religious, with an absolute intolerance for the other. And so, our generation is veered towards being, tolerant and politically correct. We are trying to be tolerant towards each other.
And what a virtue that, is. People of different colours creeds now sit together in an office enclosure and share their ideas to make the ends better. People of different nationalities embrace each other in sporting competitions where they may be part of the same team geared towards the same end. And indeed, America may soon vote for a female President.
But are we overdoing things? Has political corrected ness become a malign, a disease? So much so that a buffalo may not be called buffalo, because it may feel bad. A tigress will complain of being called so, and in an equal world, both male and female should simply be called a tiger. A well fed domestic dog may not be called gorgeous lest the street ranger of a dog may feel slighted.
And indeed this malign has another face to it. A face where the so-called oppressed in society can prick the somewhat stronger ones in any which way, but the ‘strong’ dare not say a word. So, Hindi films can show the ‘white man’ in any trashy way. Americans are often portrayed as ignorant people, obsessed with sex, with no regard to a family life. However, any slight mischief on the other party’s part, and up goes the media, ‘racism’. Poor little Shilpa Shetty can’t protect herself from the slurs against
her!
At the end of the day, I concede that at the ground level, the ‘oppressed’ actually have a point. Casteism is still rampant in India, with the lower castes often having to feed on scraps. Exploitation still continues. And the condition of women at a ground level is often deplorable. However, these wrongs are being taken up as excuses by certain groups of people. A man accidentally born into a Brahmin family can thus never call himself so, but a person who happens to be a…..can always be proud of his ‘roots’. In an educated, intelligent assembly, invariably the topic has to switch to how weak the weak are. An objective view is thus never possible these days where all sides are taken into consideration. Subalternism rules!
So, perhaps a clinging to one’s own roots may not be too bad after all. After all, it isn’t an individual’s fault, when the whole society clings to a ‘wrong’.
And what a virtue that, is. People of different colours creeds now sit together in an office enclosure and share their ideas to make the ends better. People of different nationalities embrace each other in sporting competitions where they may be part of the same team geared towards the same end. And indeed, America may soon vote for a female President.
But are we overdoing things? Has political corrected ness become a malign, a disease? So much so that a buffalo may not be called buffalo, because it may feel bad. A tigress will complain of being called so, and in an equal world, both male and female should simply be called a tiger. A well fed domestic dog may not be called gorgeous lest the street ranger of a dog may feel slighted.
And indeed this malign has another face to it. A face where the so-called oppressed in society can prick the somewhat stronger ones in any which way, but the ‘strong’ dare not say a word. So, Hindi films can show the ‘white man’ in any trashy way. Americans are often portrayed as ignorant people, obsessed with sex, with no regard to a family life. However, any slight mischief on the other party’s part, and up goes the media, ‘racism’. Poor little Shilpa Shetty can’t protect herself from the slurs against
her!
At the end of the day, I concede that at the ground level, the ‘oppressed’ actually have a point. Casteism is still rampant in India, with the lower castes often having to feed on scraps. Exploitation still continues. And the condition of women at a ground level is often deplorable. However, these wrongs are being taken up as excuses by certain groups of people. A man accidentally born into a Brahmin family can thus never call himself so, but a person who happens to be a…..can always be proud of his ‘roots’. In an educated, intelligent assembly, invariably the topic has to switch to how weak the weak are. An objective view is thus never possible these days where all sides are taken into consideration. Subalternism rules!
So, perhaps a clinging to one’s own roots may not be too bad after all. After all, it isn’t an individual’s fault, when the whole society clings to a ‘wrong’.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Last Man Standing
The year 2007 brings to us a number of anniversaries. It is exactly 400 years since the foundation of the first British colony in the New World, Virginia named after Queen Elizabeth I, with its capital at Jamestown, named after her cousin James I. It is 300 years since the Union between England and Scotland. And, it is 300 years since the last indigenous King ruled North India, like a true monarch. On March 3, 1707, Aurangzeb, the son of Shah Jehan and Mumtaz Mahal, slid into the final throes of life unto death itself, leaving the entire subcontinent open to foreign domination. And now that it is 300 years, we look back at the legacy the last Great Mughal left on our lives.
Born on November 3rd, 1618, when Shah Jehan was governor of the south in Dahod, Maharashtra, Aurangzeb was a somewhat sickly child. He hardly possessed any of the martial qualities which had been endowed in his family for generations. However, he possessed a cunning which would go onto serve him extremely well later in life.
Aurangzeb was comparatively dour and dispassionate. He was the complete anti-thesis of his visionary father, who was dreamer first and a romantic at heart. The father was much more inclined to the brilliant scholar that Dara Shikoh, the eldest son was. In fact Dara was the best scholar that this branch of Temur’s clan produced. Dara was liberal, Aurangzeb was orthodox. In fact the latter was extremely pious in many ways and followed the Quran to the hilt. It had its advantages, but proved more to be a calamity for the nation which he ruled, where the vast majority of the population was Hindu, as far as religious affiliation is concerned. Unlike some of his forebears who led lives full of women, and alcohol, he completely abstained from alcohol and considered sex as only a regrettable necessity in life. He was also, somewhat kind to his courtiers, servants and soldiers, never reveling as an emperor with pomp and show. But, his biggest failing may well have been his imposition of the Jaziya or the Tax on non-Muslims. This and his other destructive elements completely undid all his otherwise mild mannered demeanour.
Aurangzeb has often been thought of as a great conqueror and military general who didn’t posses the nuances to rule by the pen. But that was hardly true. Yes, he ruled over an area of land greater in area than any previous Indian born emperor, but most of his military victories may simply be considered Pyrrhic. Victories where the winner lost as much as the vanquished. He led a campaign to unite the whole of India under the Mughal sword, where the primary target was the deep south. However, the south could never be tamed by Islamic armies in India the way the north was. Much is often said about the martial culture existing in the north. But it was the south where Aurangzeb’s army met defeat after defeat. The conditions were absolutely alien to the Pathans and Rajputs from the north. The army was in fact a gargantuan unit, too large and unmanageable, a far cry from Babur’s efficient compact unit. The units were boosted by numbers of camp followers, and servants. Each year, he kept losing about a 100,000 troops. It was a huge strain on the nation’s treasury. Towards the end of his reign, Aurangzeb had himself lost the plot, and the meaning of the ongoing war. He considered himself to be a sinner for having been the cause of so many deaths and for ruining the work of his family. The administration had broken up and corruption was rampant.
And yet, Aurangzeb remains one of the greatest emperors of India ever. He was the last true Indian to rule over this vast area for so long. And as long as he was there, the British could never rove their eyes towards the vast riches as means of conquest. India’s colonization by foreign powers was still a long way off.
And, so ultimately, on a March morning, he passed way and in the town of Khuldabad in Maharashtra remains his tomb. A quiet sepulcher, a far cry from the glorious jewel encrusted tombs of his fathers. Indeed, an austere end, for a man forever committed to simple living.
Born on November 3rd, 1618, when Shah Jehan was governor of the south in Dahod, Maharashtra, Aurangzeb was a somewhat sickly child. He hardly possessed any of the martial qualities which had been endowed in his family for generations. However, he possessed a cunning which would go onto serve him extremely well later in life.
Aurangzeb was comparatively dour and dispassionate. He was the complete anti-thesis of his visionary father, who was dreamer first and a romantic at heart. The father was much more inclined to the brilliant scholar that Dara Shikoh, the eldest son was. In fact Dara was the best scholar that this branch of Temur’s clan produced. Dara was liberal, Aurangzeb was orthodox. In fact the latter was extremely pious in many ways and followed the Quran to the hilt. It had its advantages, but proved more to be a calamity for the nation which he ruled, where the vast majority of the population was Hindu, as far as religious affiliation is concerned. Unlike some of his forebears who led lives full of women, and alcohol, he completely abstained from alcohol and considered sex as only a regrettable necessity in life. He was also, somewhat kind to his courtiers, servants and soldiers, never reveling as an emperor with pomp and show. But, his biggest failing may well have been his imposition of the Jaziya or the Tax on non-Muslims. This and his other destructive elements completely undid all his otherwise mild mannered demeanour.
Aurangzeb has often been thought of as a great conqueror and military general who didn’t posses the nuances to rule by the pen. But that was hardly true. Yes, he ruled over an area of land greater in area than any previous Indian born emperor, but most of his military victories may simply be considered Pyrrhic. Victories where the winner lost as much as the vanquished. He led a campaign to unite the whole of India under the Mughal sword, where the primary target was the deep south. However, the south could never be tamed by Islamic armies in India the way the north was. Much is often said about the martial culture existing in the north. But it was the south where Aurangzeb’s army met defeat after defeat. The conditions were absolutely alien to the Pathans and Rajputs from the north. The army was in fact a gargantuan unit, too large and unmanageable, a far cry from Babur’s efficient compact unit. The units were boosted by numbers of camp followers, and servants. Each year, he kept losing about a 100,000 troops. It was a huge strain on the nation’s treasury. Towards the end of his reign, Aurangzeb had himself lost the plot, and the meaning of the ongoing war. He considered himself to be a sinner for having been the cause of so many deaths and for ruining the work of his family. The administration had broken up and corruption was rampant.
And yet, Aurangzeb remains one of the greatest emperors of India ever. He was the last true Indian to rule over this vast area for so long. And as long as he was there, the British could never rove their eyes towards the vast riches as means of conquest. India’s colonization by foreign powers was still a long way off.
And, so ultimately, on a March morning, he passed way and in the town of Khuldabad in Maharashtra remains his tomb. A quiet sepulcher, a far cry from the glorious jewel encrusted tombs of his fathers. Indeed, an austere end, for a man forever committed to simple living.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
A Piece of My Heart!
Bill Shankly, the authoritarian patriarch of Liverpool Football Club, had once commented that football was more important than life and death. Perhaps that is true. For romantics like me, that’ll always be true. But even for the hard core pragmatists, of late two events have stirred, which have particularly touched my heart, and might as well, soften those of that camp.
Iraq mired in one of its severest political crisis ever, has risen from absolutely nowhere to reach the Finals of the so called, Asian Championships. The best national teams from all over Asia have gathered in their droves here. The traditional giants from the continent like The Korean Republic, Japan, Saudi Arabia and Iraq’s neighbours Iran along with newcomers Australia were expected to do battle, with the others merely making up the numbers. And Iraq, who would have thought, the players could hardly train, with the fear of a car bomb forever lurking near their bases. No other sport could have fuelled this possibility. Other sports are expensive, and most never arouse the community feeling which, this simple and beautiful team sport makes up.
Now we travel northwards to Spain where yet again Atletic Bilbao could ward off the threat of relegation and survive in the Premier Division. Super rich clubs like Barcelona and Real Madrid remain the only ones to have achieved this feat of forever being in the top flight of Spanish football. And while Real and Barca, have achieved this success through their huge power bases, their enormous wealth and government backing at least in the case of the former, Bilbao have achieved all this through their unique Canterra policy. To understand this, we first need to travel a little back in time. After Franco took over power in Spain in 1936, the language of Madrid, Castilliano was deemed the sole official language of the extremely diverse nation. The persecution of the Basques then went on headlong. Basque ethnic pride could no longer be openly displayed, so the Atletic Bilbao football club’s ground the historic San Mamez became the vent for this patriotism. And thus, the club only ever played Basques in the club’s team. No foreigner, not even a non-Basque Spaniard. In fact, some French Basques like Lizarazu have played for them, but no other Spaniards. Such sentiments can be understandable in an earlier age, but to think of the fact that the programme continues to be a success well into the 21st century tells us something about both he people and the sport. It is as I say such a common-man’s game, that passion alone over rides so often.
Tomorrow is I guess the day when Iraq plays the Asian finals against the Saudis. No offence to the boys from the Arabian Peninsula, but I will cheer all my heart out for Iraq. These men, their fathers and their sons, have suffered for so long, bombings, poverty, migration, that our sympathies reach out to them. And as for, the policy at Bilbao, I believe after the flirtations with near relegation over the last two seasons, perhaps the time for change may have come. Or has it? Is so called success, more important than regional pride? Answer lies with the readers. Tell me what you all think!
Iraq mired in one of its severest political crisis ever, has risen from absolutely nowhere to reach the Finals of the so called, Asian Championships. The best national teams from all over Asia have gathered in their droves here. The traditional giants from the continent like The Korean Republic, Japan, Saudi Arabia and Iraq’s neighbours Iran along with newcomers Australia were expected to do battle, with the others merely making up the numbers. And Iraq, who would have thought, the players could hardly train, with the fear of a car bomb forever lurking near their bases. No other sport could have fuelled this possibility. Other sports are expensive, and most never arouse the community feeling which, this simple and beautiful team sport makes up.
Now we travel northwards to Spain where yet again Atletic Bilbao could ward off the threat of relegation and survive in the Premier Division. Super rich clubs like Barcelona and Real Madrid remain the only ones to have achieved this feat of forever being in the top flight of Spanish football. And while Real and Barca, have achieved this success through their huge power bases, their enormous wealth and government backing at least in the case of the former, Bilbao have achieved all this through their unique Canterra policy. To understand this, we first need to travel a little back in time. After Franco took over power in Spain in 1936, the language of Madrid, Castilliano was deemed the sole official language of the extremely diverse nation. The persecution of the Basques then went on headlong. Basque ethnic pride could no longer be openly displayed, so the Atletic Bilbao football club’s ground the historic San Mamez became the vent for this patriotism. And thus, the club only ever played Basques in the club’s team. No foreigner, not even a non-Basque Spaniard. In fact, some French Basques like Lizarazu have played for them, but no other Spaniards. Such sentiments can be understandable in an earlier age, but to think of the fact that the programme continues to be a success well into the 21st century tells us something about both he people and the sport. It is as I say such a common-man’s game, that passion alone over rides so often.
Tomorrow is I guess the day when Iraq plays the Asian finals against the Saudis. No offence to the boys from the Arabian Peninsula, but I will cheer all my heart out for Iraq. These men, their fathers and their sons, have suffered for so long, bombings, poverty, migration, that our sympathies reach out to them. And as for, the policy at Bilbao, I believe after the flirtations with near relegation over the last two seasons, perhaps the time for change may have come. Or has it? Is so called success, more important than regional pride? Answer lies with the readers. Tell me what you all think!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
19th, July
19th of July. The date rings a million memories to me. The parties, the cakes, the food, and the jingles. Indeed, it is the day when 28 years ago, my sister was born into the planet. And this year, for the first time ever, she will be beyond my reach, in some other country, a separate continent, a different time-zone altogether.
The whole week has seen a huge abyss in my life. In previous years, the entire week preceding 19th, all of us would be exposed to Didi’s constant singing ‘Happy Birthday to Me’, which may not always be so pleasant. However, nothing of that this time around.
Sayantani Dasgupta has always been a very passionate character who pursues her dreams till the end. While many other women consider meekness a virtue, she has always been more than a handful for any person around. Brilliantly intellectual, she misses nothing around.
Didi has generally mellowed down over the years. Each step in her life has lead to a change. In school, she was fiery, someone who would break her pencil if things went wrong, or tear apart all the posters in her bedroom. She changed a bit in college, perhaps St. Stephen’s provided her a perfect platform to show herself, and those may well have been her happiest years. Then, as she went to JNU, a different life emerged to her. A more Pan-India culture proved to be a bit of a shock, and she got first hand information on grass roots politics in India. But the biggest change engulfed her as she went to work in Mohali. My sister who was previously obsessed with reading on Hitler, or Saddam Hussein, was now suddenly interested in dressing up in Salwars, and hearing Sufi Music. The girl got transformed to a woman. It was during her Mohali stay that she gifted me David Beckham’s autobiography for my 17th birthday.
The lady in question is also very loyal to her family. Always gets something for every one in the immediate clan, whenever she goes somewhere. And what’s more as she now heads to middle age, a new life is what she is experiencing. In America for the last one year (nearly), she has made deep inroads into American academic life. And I am just waiting for the day when she strides into her Ivy League classroom, to deliver her lecture on the Mahabharata, her life’s ambition.
The whole week has seen a huge abyss in my life. In previous years, the entire week preceding 19th, all of us would be exposed to Didi’s constant singing ‘Happy Birthday to Me’, which may not always be so pleasant. However, nothing of that this time around.
Sayantani Dasgupta has always been a very passionate character who pursues her dreams till the end. While many other women consider meekness a virtue, she has always been more than a handful for any person around. Brilliantly intellectual, she misses nothing around.
Didi has generally mellowed down over the years. Each step in her life has lead to a change. In school, she was fiery, someone who would break her pencil if things went wrong, or tear apart all the posters in her bedroom. She changed a bit in college, perhaps St. Stephen’s provided her a perfect platform to show herself, and those may well have been her happiest years. Then, as she went to JNU, a different life emerged to her. A more Pan-India culture proved to be a bit of a shock, and she got first hand information on grass roots politics in India. But the biggest change engulfed her as she went to work in Mohali. My sister who was previously obsessed with reading on Hitler, or Saddam Hussein, was now suddenly interested in dressing up in Salwars, and hearing Sufi Music. The girl got transformed to a woman. It was during her Mohali stay that she gifted me David Beckham’s autobiography for my 17th birthday.
The lady in question is also very loyal to her family. Always gets something for every one in the immediate clan, whenever she goes somewhere. And what’s more as she now heads to middle age, a new life is what she is experiencing. In America for the last one year (nearly), she has made deep inroads into American academic life. And I am just waiting for the day when she strides into her Ivy League classroom, to deliver her lecture on the Mahabharata, her life’s ambition.
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