Black Money!

Our bank finally had some cash, so we got our hands on some old used dirty looking 100 rupee notes.

Looking at the soiled notes, Aloka (having heard her agitated mom going on and on about the issue for the last 2 days) turns to me and says "Is this black money mom?".

We laughed for a good five minutes, confusing the poor kid even more.

Parallel Universe!

Part 1: 

What are educated Modi fans reading that is so different from what I am reading? What are they seeing in their cities and towns that is so different from what I am seeing? What life experiences makes people spew words like "slight inconvenience" and "nation building" in the face of this totally bungled unplanned operation?

We must be living in parallel universes.

Part 2:
Honestly, I try to read what the people, who believe the whole demonetization thing is right, share. I try.

There are these articles on the deep profound progressive thought behind the act, which will result in the betterment of everyone finally. I read these articles with an open mind that is willing to believe that there is something profound that I, as a layperson, am missing. After all, I am no economist.

But then, I am jolted by a stronger thought that does not require me to be an economist, but just a sensitive kind human being, which I am sure I am.

Deep profound acts require deep profound minds to have thought them up. Can I believe that of the current government? In the face of the cruel jokes and farcical PR dramas and total lack of empathy for the pain faced by our people, can I believe that there is something profound at the back of it all?

No, I can't. Sorry I can't.

Tales from a Parallel Universe!

Once again, it's me with another WTF post from a parallel universe.

Local taxi drivers have no business. People are avoiding going anywhere unessential. Those who must take a cab have only 2000 rupee notes. No change for the transaction. So, no business.

Simple hard working people being hit badly. Yeh rozi roti ka sawaal hai bhai. Thoda soch liya hota.

Kanto's Problem!

I woke up this morning to some loud noises coming from downstairs. It was our gardner, a 70 year-old hard working man, talking to my mom and cursing the great man. Our gardner is hard of hearing and talks rather loudly, so I could hear it all. I will spare you all the details of what he said about our great PM because that's not the point of this post.

His son got married on the 8th, and he hasn't been able to pay the village folks who cooked the dhaam food, played the band, and put up tents etc. He owes 40k to them but has no way to pay them. They, in turn owe money to their staff and shopkeepers from who they arranged the supplies.

The entire fabric of rural India is based on cash. My gardner can't write them a check, assuming he has a bank account and a check book and finds someone to help him write a check, because many of those he owes money to don't have bank accounts. Everyone needs to work on their small farms right now to grow their wheat crop and don't have time to stand in bank queues to open accounts, or deposit checks, and navigate the system- just to withdraw small sums of money everyday.

It is the person at the very bottom of the chain who is most distressed and in pain.

Point to note- I stayed upstairs and did not influence or incite him. I didn't have to. The system is doing that just fine.

Have you tried operating an ATM in another language?

Have you tried operating an ATM in another language? 

In Singapore once at an ATM, I selected Malay as my language by mistake. Despite having used that ATM a thousand times, despite the language being readable due to the familiar script, I froze. I cancelled the transaction hurriedly and logged in again in English.

Now can you imagine having to operate an ATM when you can't read any language? Empathise empathise. Please.

Sheer Exploitation

This morning, I stopped at the construction site near our house and asked a few workers standing on the first floor of a new apartment building if they were all okay. They grinned and said no salary all month. I asked how they were managing and they said that the contractor gave them "kharcha" (expenses) so they were not starving.

The contractor gave them 2000 rupees for the entire month and have been eating with that. But no money has been sent home because the money is enough just for their subsistence.

Each person earns 300 rupees daily. So, they have received about a fifth of what they are owed. Can you imagine receiving a fifth of your salary any month? Will you accept it without a fight, in the name of patriotism?

That they still smile and continue to work is not an expression of their desh bhakti, but of years of oppression and helplessness, and consequent resignation to their fate. It is also a result of their lack of understanding of their basic human rights. The unorganized sector is unorganized. They have no unions or leaders to speak for them.

This is sheer exploitation. Not by their contractor, who is a mere pawn too, but by the government and its supporters.

What are you Doing beside Complaining?

I wrote this in response to some comments- almost directly to those people, but some people think it is self praise. I am embarrassed if it appears like self praise. That is not the purpose.

Quite a few people have asked me what I am doing to help the poor whose suffering I keep writing about. What is the big deal in going on and on about the issue and criticizing the govt and spewing negativity. Let me answer that.

• First of all, I am writing about those who are invisible and insignificant to most. Giving a voice to the voiceless is a big deal.
• By sharing what I see, I am showing the insulated what is invisible to them. Showing someone what they can't otherwise see is a big deal.
• I am not just forwarding what I read. I am writing original stuff too. I am a writer. Try being that. It is a big deal.
• To write, I engage with the village folks. I enter their houses and they enter mine. I am breaking barriers of class that have existed for a long time. It is a big deal.
• In engaging with them as fellow human beings, I am living my principles of equality and dignity for all human beings. No lip service but actual action. It is not a big deal for me for I am like that only, but try doing it yourself. It will be a big deal.
• If this is all too up in the air, and not concrete, here are some other things I have done since Nov 9th. I helped fill out forms for people standing in the bank queues. I lent money to those in crisis. I advised the uninformed about the ever changing rules. But most of all, I have taught village kids to be kind to each other and to empathise with the less fortunate, so that they won't ever have to ask anyone doing what I do "What's the big deal?".

Is that enough?

Only They Are Sailing Through!

I went to see the mother of two of my students, wife of a migrant worker, to see if she needed any advice or help with exchanging her old money. She is illiterate, has no bank account and her husband and eldest son work in Kinnaur at a construction site. I understood the meaning of abject poverty only when I first visited them some 6 months back.

When I asked her if she needed any help with her old notes, she said no, no problem. I am guessing that her money for the month was in 100 rupee notes. Guessing because she looked very clueless about my question and I didn't want to confuse her. I told her to contact me if she needed any help with exchanging money and left it at that. It was obvious to me that she had no idea about demonetisation. Her husband is to return next week with more money.

While at their house, I met their landlord, a man in his sixties. I asked him if his family is okay. He said he faced absolutely no problem because his son works in a local bank. "Ladka bank mein hai to hamay kya problem" were his exact words.

So, two types of people in the village are sailing through the crisis- those with no money and those with close relatives working in banks!!!

Small Town Reality

On the way to Mandi on Wednesday to get the car serviced, we stopped at two petrol stations to get diesel. Neither had operational card machines, or the guys manning the station that early in the morning didn't know how to use them.

Finally, I had to use cash that I was saving to buy trout. I offered a 2000 rupee note. The guy asked me to buy diesel for 1000 rupees (instead of 500 that I wanted) for he did not want to give me 1500 rupees as change. Sab change khatam ho jayega, he said. There went my cash for 2kg of trout.

At the car service station, the folks didn't accept my card (no reason offered, just that we don't accept cards). Luckily, I was carrying my check book and wrote them a check.

Long and short of it, I needed cash. Having 4 credit and debit cards doesn't help. This is the reality in smaller towns and cities.

Social Engineering

A couple of days back, a very good doctor friend got scammed into giving her bank details to a caller pretending to be a bank employee. He knew she had requested for an inactive account to be reactivated just the previous day. He knew she had requested for a check book. He conned her because he left no doubt in her mind that he was from the bank. He was that convincing.

That convincing. To a highly educated doctor. To a person who has used banks ever since she became an adult. To a regular online shopper. To someone who has read about such scams many times.

He robbed her of 20k within minutes. She was able to limit the damage because she realized her mistake almost instantly and rushed to the bank in her car to cancel the card.

This is called social engineering. Smart educated people, who have read time and again about not disclosing any bank details, get scammed by social engineers.

Read the words carefully- Doctor, scammed, realized mistake, rushed in car, canceled card, limited damage.

Now imagine an ATM card in the hands of a poor uneducated gullible villager!

Side Effects!

Went to the super popular Illiterati cafe at Mcleodganj for lunch today with my girl friend and found it totally empty. We had the best seats in the sun to ourselves for a good 2 hours and were the only customers for most of that time.

The last time we were there for coffee a few months ago, the place was brimming with customers and we had trouble finding seats.

Reason? They accept only cash.

Very Annoyed!

A young man from a nearby village comes to me twice or thrice a week to practice speaking in English. As he is appearing for a competetive in two weeks, he asked me to help him with some grammar issues he finds confusing. I don't teach grammar generally, but gave in because of his persistance and desperation.

Today, he asked me about the difference between "annoyed with" and "annoyed at". Here are the examples I used to explain the difference.

1. I am "annoyed at" the ad-hoc and random changes in the demonetisation-related rules. I am "annoyed at" the lack of preparation and risk management in the exercise.
2. I am "annoyed with" Modi for putting us all through this mess.

He he. Sort of makes up for my discomfort with teaching grammar. Simple pleasures!

Teaching English- The Beginning

The first year I relocated to India, I taught a group of adults conversational English because a good friend requested me to. She didn't know if I could teach it well, neither did I, but I took it up anyway.

My class had 10-14 students, all working adults of varied exposure to English. At one extreme were people who had never spoken a word of the language and had no real need to do so. At the other extreme were a couple of women, who understood the language and used it somewhat in communicating with foreigners who visited their premises.

I didn't take my task lightly. Having been an Instructional Designer for years, I firmly believe in the power of design when teaching. I spent hours researching ESL techniques and adapted them to my class. I looked forward to the classes, seeing my techniques come to life with the students and learning to be a better teacher in each class. A high point was when the class wrote and performed a play in English. Every student participated and showed everyone in the audience (including me) that English is within everyone's reach and one doesn't need perfect English to communicate in it.

I was interested in the process of teaching, and derived happiness and energy from it. The end result was not my focus, mainly because I had no benchmark and no experience. But results were happening, in their own ways and influenced by factors I didn't control. The two people who showed the most improvement were intrinsically motivated and had opportunities to practice whatever they learned. A few others described a shift in their dealings with English speaking friends- from embarrassment to nonchalance, which doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is. It is a huge step in looking at a language as a language, within reach and doable, and not some superior upper class shit that is just not meant for the poor and disadvantaged.

Unfortunately, the NGO whose staff I was teaching decided their staff didn't have the time for my classes. My experiment came to an abrupt halt.

I was sad no doubt, but the vacuum created as a result spurred me on to new things. The next post will deal with these.

Lost and Found!

Today while teaching Aloka, I read a story in her literature book called "Manu's scarf". It sounded very familiar.

Then I figured why. Many many years ago, in 1986 or so, my father in law, Sukumar Shankar, had written a short story called "The Ribbon". It had won an award by CBT and was subsequently published by them. This story in Aloka's book is a rehash of my acchan's short story, replacing the ribbon by a scarf and Mala by Manu!

Life has brought a much loved but forgotten story back to us. What a wonderful feeling to read the story to Aloka and tell her about her brother's multi-talented grandfather!

It also gave me a chance to talk about the ugliness and unfairness of plagiarism with her.

Pleasures of Living in a Small Town near a Famous Cricket Stadium

Pleasures of Living in a Small Town (near a Famous Cricket Stadium):

On the way to pick up Aloka from school, I saw scores of cars, police bus and jeeps, at least a hundred policemen and a couple of (token) policewomen, and quite a few housewives crowding around our local neighborhood mosque. 

Fearing the worst, I stopped to ask about it at a neighborhood shop.

Relief! Pride! That was just the Bangladesh cricket team come to our little village mosque to offer Friday prayers!