Good is Bacterial, Great is Viral

The story unfolded like a fairy tale. But with a twist. This time it was not about a princess, but a young boy. Oblivious of his looks, the boy earned his living by selling tea, fruit and vegetables at a Sunday bazaar. He had no phone and did not know how to read or write. And yet, he dreamt of helping his poor parents. One day a fairy clicked his picture and posted it on Instagram. The picture captured the imagination of the world. The hot chaiwala morphed into a cool model. He appeared on television, graced magazine covers, bagged modeling contracts and walked the ramp. Dizzying, isn’t it?

Welcome to a world where one picture holds the potential to change the story.

This is what happened to eighteen year old Arshad Ali Khan, an ethnic Pashtun in neighboring Pakistan. Neither reason nor logic applied to the mass hysteria that followed. His picture was shared more than 30, 000 times. Lucky chap, for none of his seventeen siblings had such fortune. Yes, 17. Deal with it.

Arshad, however, was unfazed. “I came to know this morning that I am very good looking,” he said. I don’t know if his charm resided in his innocence or blue eyes, but what I know is that he was a buttered toast for social media.

Don’t we just love social media? Every tweet and update is a tribute to ingenuity. Once the topic goes viral, we feverishly engage in outsmarting each other until the virus is eliminated. So, for some Arshad became Pakistan’s latest nuclear weapon and for others - a dove. If one wanted to ‘make tea, not war’, another tweeted, “A chai wala from Pakistan is now famous on Indian social media. This is truly aMan kee aasha.”

And then there were angry birds who love rivalry. Hand on heart I’ve never heard such comparisons. “My Chaiwala is more handsome than your Shah Rukh Khan,” chirped a pretty little thing. Really? Okay kiddo. We will talk when your Khan wins the ‘Koffee with Karan’ hamper for a fourth straight time.

Another abiding feature of social media is the ‘like mentality’ - an unsaid social media compulsion. You like what your friends do. Dosti ki khatir. Obliged by social media, smitten girls flocked ARK’s tea stall to click pictures. With full make-up and blow dried hair, they pouted and posed. It was a matter of ‘like and death’. Oh, common, be fair. Who clicks selfies with a chaiwala unless he was a PM or a social media sensation? 

Thereafter, all the chatter segued into some talk about reverse objectification. For once it was the girls who were lusting after a good looking boy. Thank heavens for the fact that women refrain from specifics, even if it’s locker room talk. Girls went as far as becoming a chai addict and dreaming of being served some ‘kadak’ chai. That’s it.

Just when I thought that the storm in the tea cup had subsided, I saw a tweet from a cute little sparrow in heat. ‘Arshad, will you marry me?’ Dear girls from Islamabad to Moradabad, sorry to burst your steaming hot bubble. The Chaiwala may be your cupcake but how long can you look at him? What if you want to discuss demonetization and carbon emission?

Regardless, the objectification charge was silly. Meaningless actually. After all, the camera was simply a catalyst in a win-win situation.

But wait. Let’s get serious. Arshad Ali Khan is not the only viral sensation. The stupefied picture of a Syrian child, Omran sitting alone in an ambulance comes to mind. Likewise, the haunting picture of Aylan Kurdi, a drowned toddler. Far away from Instagram and way before Twitter, the 1984 portrait of Sharbat Gula, the Afghan Girl’s piercing eyes had shaken our soul. Perhaps it was those intense eyes - a tapestry of tragedy and pools of grief. Come to think of it, her image was etched in our memory without the clutches of social media - no re-tweets, no likes and no shares.

For positive tales like Arshad, social media can be a fairy Godmother. But the only thing shorter than public memory is public attention. Overnight fame can provide a fillip to a muse or a cause, but it does little to change stories. What exactly are we doing for other Omrans being rescued from the rubble? Is our heart bleeding for the Afghan Girl  who was arrested in Pakistan for forging national identity card? 

Yes, we love the Chaiwala’s rags to riches story. In fact we love fairy tales - not because they tell us about monsters but because they tell us that monsters can be overcome. That there is hope. Compassion. But social media is fickle and news ephemeral. And yet, if viral images help a cause or a muse, it is a welcome part of digital times. We are ready with our likes, shares and re-tweets. 

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Data-giri

With the launch of Reliance Jio, 'Mukesh Returns' is now playing in the Indian telecom theaters after a gap of eleven years. Jio has promised cheaper data, 4G network, free voice calls and faster internet speed that will change the face of India’s telecom industry. Now that Mukesh Data-bhai Ambani has cast his network far and wide, his rivals are going weak in their signals. The new release has ensured that the Triple Play of Airtel, Vodafone, and Idea is  compelled to change the rules of the game. You can’t sit and watch Reliance broadband-bajao you in public, can you?

With an investment of Rs1, 50,000 Cr, Jio is said to be world’s largest startup. Truly wirelessly yours. Given that Jio announced lifetime free calling at a time when 70% of the revenues come from voice, how is Jio going push the boulder up the mountain? Too good to be true, eh? 

For one, Reliance has built humongous digital infrastructure (designed to handle 5G and 6G) and has enough bandwidth to assert its Data-giri. This is where China comes into the picture.  Reliance has picked VoLTE (voice over LTE) 4G compatible Lyf phones  from China that come with a Jio SIM. Moreover, the real story hinges on the Jio apps that are currently free for you to get addicted to.
While Reliance has created a capacity to take 100 million customers, initial users say Jio is in its beta stage where the speed is faster than Usain Bolt but the connection erratic. Once the initial interconnect glitches are surpassed, we will know if Jio is able to assert its Data-giri or end up revising plans. Or find itself in a hotspot. Only time will tell if Jio Bullet is able to beat the Airtel Rajdhani, Voda Shatabdi or the Idea Express! Where's  BSNL, you ask? Well, the market is big enough for the the passenger trains to chug along. 

According to Mr Ambani, “Two hundred years ago it was electricity that changed human life. Fifty years from now when you write history, one technology that would have changed civilization would be mobile internet.” He’s right. Humans have never engaged in an activity as dedicatedly as they have in mobile internet. 

The arrival of  Jio will change the telecom landscape in myriad  ways. If voice calls are free, we could face a scenario where landlines become as ineffective as typewriters. With unlimited data and 4G speeds, what is an average Indian residing in say, Lakhimpur do? Watch movies, download songs, engage on social media, but then what? There are limited avenues to fritter unlimited data!
With the telecom mavens promising a gradual but eventual shift to 5G by 2018, cheaper and faster data will create a new band of consumers. While the upper middle class users of Netflix, Wynk, and YouTube will continue to use data for shopping and entertainment, the lower middle class Hindi speaking consumer will demand content that suits his palate. 

The probabilities are immense, the market huge and the potential beyond imagination.

But before that there is politics. And technology and politics seldom go hand in hand. While Jio promised the moon, politicians began singing the age old ditty of roti kapda aur makaan. Targeting the PM, one killjoy said that the poor need Atta (Wheat flour), not Data. Well, damning technology is unlikely to provide Atta. Embracing it can. But who wants an informed voter? An informed, connected voter is a politician’s worse nightmare.Thus began the suit boot jibes and the condemnation that the government is only for the rich. When it comes to technology, neither politics nor condemnation make for meaningful debate because the first doesn’t translate into good economics and the second is an outcome of the  first.

Regardless, politics cannot stop an idea whose time has come. Reliance Jio can be a formidable brand if it creates value for customers and does not fizzle out like it did in 2005. Even though the name Ambani has long been the very definition of success, the prudent are holding the champagne. They will say cheers in January 2017.

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Entire article in Diplomacy&Beyond

Powerpuff Girls

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It is true that our dismal performance at the Rio Olympics was as much a reflection of national health as it was a reflection of our politicized sports federations. It is true that our regression from London to Rio warrants a drastic revamp. It is also true that sports are not a part of our socio-cultural ethos. And yet, despite all our shortcomings, the terrific trio of Dipa, Sakshi and Sindhu managed to etch a silver lining on an otherwise cloudy month of August.

It all began when a young Dipa Karmakar pulled off a breathtaking vault, missed the bronze by a whisker but landed straight into our hearts with her toothy grin and earnest humility. Twitter, not exactly known for its kindness, supported Dipa by reinforcing that she  was already a winner for being the first Indian gymnast to attempt the Vault of Death. Thereafter, when we saw Sakshi Malik’s opponents writhing on the mat, we wondered how an unassuming girl from a patriarchal state with a skewed sex ratio could show such aggression. And when PV Sindhu rose like a phoenix, slaying her opponents one smash at a time, the entire country was transfixed to their televisions, mobiles, laptops, and tablets. Sindhu lost the match but won a silver medal, underlining the truism that sports does not build character, sports reveals it. Harder the battle, sweeter the victory.
But the larger question remains. What exactly are we celebrating? Why are we feeling good about a brave attempt and two medals coming from a billion plus nation?
For one, there is something about sports that creates nationalistic camaraderie. Anticipation of a win by unknown players ignites unmatched patriotic fervor. Their struggle, their tears, their hopes, their pride – all become ours. And yet, such passion was hitherto reserved for cricket. To generate curiosity about other sports in a cricket crazy, Bollywood obsessed nation is no mean feat. It is telling that when it came to appointing brand ambassadors for Rio, Salman Khan and Sachin Tendulkar were the first on the list.

Second, for a nation that evinces little interest prior to the games but hopes to fill its empty medal shelves, the girls achieved something beyond medals. As the social media was awash with messages like, ‘we failed our girls but girls saved our pride’, it didn’t take long for the sub-text to become obvious. The trio did more than any lip service could do for the Prime Minister’s ‘Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao’ campaign, the #SavetheGirlChild crusade or the symbolic #SelfieWithDaughter.

The idea is not to play the gender card because we know that our sportsmen deliver despite sporting federations and abysmal facilities, and not because of them. We know that it’s not only the lack of money (oil rich Arab nations should be churning out champions) but the lack of sporting culture that is our bane. We know that our kids excel at Math Olympiads and Spelling Bee competitions, but not as much at sports. And we also know that the barriers of societal pressure and parental obligations faced by Indian women, particularly from low income groups are almost insurmountable. So every time a small town girl like Mary Kom comes closer to an Olympic medal, she punctures the deep rooted misogyny that has become a part of our vocabulary. Don’t be such a girl. Girls in short dresses invite men. Don’t you have any balls? When will you settle down? It’s not a girl’s game. When a Whatsapp forward read, ‘Dipa’s Coach – Bisbeshwar. Sakshi’s Coach – Kuldeep. Sindhu’s coach – Gopi. It’s time for Indian men to say, behind every successful woman, there’s a man’ we realized that the trio had debunked some conventional biases.
Every smash from Sindhu, every stride from Dipa and every tackle by Sakshi discredited the narrow identity created by our societal norms. Rather unconsciously, the girls had charmed the nation. Whether their charm resided in their disarming smiles, their relentless pursuit, or earnest humility, it cannot be denied that these girls drove the nail right through the heart of ‘Fair and Lovely’ bogey. Albeit for a few days, the conventional 'beautiful' brigade was sidelined, no matter what they wore at Cannes, how pretty they looked at the Miss India pageant or how they sashayed at a  fashion show.

All said our ambition of becoming a sporting nation looks distant. But what began with Saina Nehwal and Mary Kom in 2012 was underlined by girl power in the 2016. When we don’t look at medals as our only aim, we did take a small step forward in changing attitudes and exposing conventional biases. And for this reason alone we must celebrate. Because the girls are worth it.

Your Vampires, Our Snakes

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Scare them. Shock them. Keep them guessing. Television producers are on the top of the game. If you flip television channels, you will come across believe-it-or-nuts soaps where the titular character turns into a housefly. If this does not make you goggle eyed, the hero turning into a mongoose man will. Welcome to supernatural genre which is forcibly absurd, largely superstitious, shoddily animated and overtly religious in nature.
You might think that a country known for snake charmers would be more kindly disposed to shows where the protagonist is a vengeful snake woman. But city slickers are lampooning the onslaught of naagins and dayans in their living rooms. Urban folks may say that these serials are regressive and that they cannot identify with such ridiculous fantasy. But we know that success is the only truth. What sells must be popular.

Little surprise then that television producers including soap sultana Ekta Kapoor are cooking melodrama with dark shades of fantasy. After all, how many house hold dramas can the audiences endure? The dutiful bahu sorted all her domestic problems. She now knows that the laptops are not to be washed with soap and water. The malevolent matriarch has tormented the household members by poisoning enough milk glasses. The innocent child-bride has conveyed the right messages for more than eight years. As has the gutsy widow who opts for re-marriage. So, what’s next?

Themes of love and revenge now play via mythical characters with religious overtones. More than a twists of the plot, the twist of a character makes for riveting viewing. If it was the evil sister-in-law who was creating impediments, it is now her evil double. If it was plastic surgery that created twists, vardaan (boon) and shrap(curse) are more effective.
And yet, most tried and tested formulas endure. The titular characters continue to be black and white, with little scope for grey. The sanskaari bahu always wins over the evil other woman. The grass grows faster than the story and one engagement ceremony is stretched over several weeks. Thanks to re-incarnation, popular characters enter and exit depending on their dates and popularity. Dressed in faux-ethnic ensembles, women continue to live in garish homes, wear hideous wigs and oversized bindis. Above all, the drama continues to play itself out with every eyebrow twitch, lip tremble, pupil dilation and nostril flare in full camera glare. Up-close and in-your-face.

If you are cerebral viewer of Friends, House of Cards or Breaking Bad, you will perhaps shake your head in disbelief to know that Indian soap stars are household names in many countries. Balika Vadhu is running in more than 15 countries in almost equal number of languages. Frankly, you have no right to sneer if you are spending more time on your laptop and less time on television. Why should producers care for net savvy audiences who prefer Netflix over Colors, Star or Zee?
Other than saas-bahu overkill, the serial producers blame the genre shift on the popularity of fantasies like the Game of Thrones, The Conjuring, The Twilight Saga and Pottermania. Many ancient stories, as in Bahubali, are being told with modern camera effects. You have your fantasies, we have our folklore. You love your vampires, we love our snakes. All good? No. Not really. The unfortunate part is that scary can be engrossing, fantasy can pack a punch and sci-fi can be compelling but most desi soaps prove nothing of the above. When the promo of a desi soap imitated the Game of Thrones it ended up being laughing stock on social media.

And those who yearn for good old Ye Jo Hai Jindagi, Hasratein, Dekh Bhai Dekh or Sarabhai versus Sarabhai, keep dreaming. In the age of technology and Pokemons, there is no place for simplicity. Because there is no Ekta Kapoor without the viewer. Also because it is not Ekta who enjoys watching a possessed bride headbanging on her wedding night. It is her audience.
Anil Kapoor can try his best with 24, but it is not easy to beat the TRPs of the vampires, dayans and shaitans. Go get your Netflix. 

Golden Goose

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Whether the success of the Indian Premier League (IPL) resides in its format or Bollywood-isation, it cannot be denied that the IPL is a phenomenon. Neither controversy nor match fixing seem to dampen its bounce. Now that the IPL’s governing council has made a strong pitch to shift the IPL to either the UAE or South Africa, it is time to reflect.
The Indian Premier League has come a long way since the fifties when watching test matches was as leisurely as watching a glorious sunset. Back then, cricket was best represented by an old bra – no cups and hardly any support. Over the years, like films, cricket has become all about entertainment, entertainment and entertainment.

For understandable reasons, the IPL is perceived to be a Tamasha. That’s amusing, but wrong. What is touted as Tamasha is in fact, serious business. According to the BCCI, the 2015 season of IPL contributed Rs 11.5 billion to the GDP of our economy. When you have a golden goose there is a mad scramble to claim the eggs. Controversies abound. In an attempt to steady the IPL innings, the BCCI introduced new teams and removed the rotting fish. And yet, the cup of IPL woes runneth over. The Lodha Committee recommendations have ensured that playing IPL with a straight bat is not going to be easy on a spinning home turf.

One of the abiding ironies is that cricket fans love cricket but love to hate the cricket governing body. Perception rules. Consequently, every political controversy like Indo-Pak ties (Dharamsala match) and Marthwada (matches shifted out of Maharashtra) drought washes up on the shores of the IPL. A volley of PILs have stumped the IPL. Adding to the discomfort is the ED surveillance on alleged Foreign Exchange Management Act (FEMA) violations.

Nonetheless, the IPL is a home grown brand that needs to be nurtured even if it requires regular weeding. Worldwide, sporting leagues have contributed towards their respective sport. Like football and basketball, Indian cricket players are making more money by participating in the league games instead of playing international games.
You could shrug and say, how does the venue matter? After all, the IPL had moved to South Africa and UAE on two occasions. Fine. But would English Premier League (EPL) be as popular if it was, say, played in Singapore? Will someone in South Africa be as proud as apna Delhi-ite watching Delhi Daredevils walk in? An average middle class Indian was stingy when it came to shelling big money to watch a game. IPL changed that in one straight drive. Financial backing by big brands added to the brand value of the tournament. Let’s face it - sport thrives on sponsorship and money.

If and when the golden goose flies away, TV contracts and sweetheart deals with owners and the BCCI might benefit cricketers, but will it benefit an average cricket fan? More significantly, should we ignore that IPL was the trigger for various sporting leagues in Kabaddi, Tennis and Badminton? Should we forget that IPL is a fertile breeding ground for young talent? Should we disregard that IPL has ensured the maintenance and upkeep of many stadiums? Should we not care for what IPL does for tourism in tier-two cities?
It is unfortunate that ‘Indian Peoples League’ has become controversial punching bag. A brand that debuted with a bang in India shouldn’t go out with a whimper.  

 

(Full article in Diplomacy&Beyond)

The Jewel in the Crown

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 Just when we thought that the cries to bring back the Kohinoor diamond were fanned by the aftermath of the Royal visit, it seems, looming Punjab elections could be the trigger. How, you ask, will the return of a diamond help the people of Punjab? Just as the return of Tipu Sultan’s sword bolstered Kannada pride (even though the proud owner of unpaid loans fled to the UK), the return of Kohinoor is believed to restore the rightful legacy of Punjab.

According to the extra-long and dotted legend of the Kohinoor, the 158.6 gram (793 carat) gem was originally mined from Kollur mines in Guntur, Andhra Pradesh was initially owned by the Mughals, Shah Jahan is said to have used it as a prism to view the Taj Mahal. After the fall of the Mughal Empire, the diamond went back to Persia, only to be procured by Maharaja Ranjit Singh. In the aftermath of Ranjit Singh’s death, the Sikhs fought two wars with the East India Company army. Duleep Singh, the minor son of Ranjit Singh and the then Maharaja in Lahore, was defeated in the second Anglo-Sikh war. Punjab was thus annexed by the British, and the Kohinoor presented to Queen Victoria. Blimey, but the Kohinoor now rests ensconced in a crown in the Tower of London. 

As it happened, Indians filed a petition in the stiff upper court demanding their sparkle back. Friendly neighborhood, Pakistan joined the party, ‘Why should India have all the fun?’ ‘Humein Bhi Chahiye Kohinoor’.

No pressure, no diamonds. In response to the political pressure, the Indian government cited a law that does not allow it to bring back antiquities taken out of the country before Independence. They reiterated the stand of the previous governments that Kohinoor was a gift. And presents, they say, are for the pleasure of who gives them and not the merits of who receives them. Right? Wrong. The Shiromani Akali Dal (SAD) said, “It is not possible for a young Duleep Singh to have gifted the Kohinoor unless he was tricked.” 'Humein Chahiye Kohinoor', they said.

After the morality foreplay by the media, the culture ministry said that they will try to bring back the pleasure, err, treasure, amicably. Meanwhile the Congress jumped in the revelry by saying, ‘Humein Chahiye Azadi. Err, Kohinoor.’ They forgot that playing politics with history is a dangerous game. Wonder why the gem of their crown didn't remind his friend David Miliband about Kohinoor when both had spent a long night with cows. What is it that they say about covering your stump before you hump, eh?

But polemics aside, in what is considered as a bad omen for men, the politicians should think twice before demanding the Kohinoor. Given that the curse of Kohinoor dates back to ancient texts, and also given that the history of rulers who owned the diamond is mired with torture and treachery, the Brits played safe. Our prissy colonizers ensured that the diamond goes to the wife of the male royal heir. And no woman ever hated a man enough to give back his diamonds. So much for pleasure, err, treasure.

Whenever a British celebrity flits by, we fete them with our Bollywood royalty and fawn over their flying skirts, but the prickly demand resurfaces, ‘Humein Chahiye Kohinoor’. When asked about the Kohinoor, David Cameron provided us with a gem of a different kind, “If you say yes to one, you suddenly find the British Museum would be empty. I’m afraid to say, it is going to stay put.” 

The idea of expecting a return gift is fatuous. And what we fancy isn’t always a reality. Regardless of how we try to dress up history - with emotions or summons, the Brits are unlikely to provide us with the pleasure of owning the treasure. And that’s the extra-long and short of Kohinoor. The diamond, of course. 
What else did you think? Kohinoor Basmati rice? Well, wokay! Good to know I have sanskari readers. 
 

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