NOTA – is that a game changer?

In many of the MCQ type of tests that I would have taken at different stages of my life, there always were occasions when I had to use the elimination method. Even if I had no idea of the correct answer, some answers could be eliminated to arrive at the most probable answer. However, at times there was a spoil sport among the choices and that was NOTA – none of the above. This one option always confused me and dissuaded me from any reverse engineering.


Recently, it has been decided that in the coming elections, we will have the NOTA option as well in the electronic voting machines. There are both pros and cons to this. Inasmuch as providing an option to the voter to have the satisfaction of exercising his franchise, have that indelible mark on his index figure, and yet not recommend any of the candidates, it is a positive development.

In the manual voting system, an uninterested voter forced to visit the ballot room due to peer pressure or out of some lure, could have managed to drop a blank ballot paper in the box, thereby indicating his rejection of all the candidates. However, in the electronic voting machine, it is the ‘beep’ that is important for the election officer and the party agents sitting in the room to indicate completion of your voting process. Hence, feigning action is impossible with the EVMs. And there comes the main advocacy for the NOTA option. That an electorate should have the right of secrecy even while refusing or rejecting to vote for any of the candidates. Fair enough.

But now consider the other ostensibly noble thought around NOTA. The argument that this option will ensure rejection of inappropriate candidates and the fact that this option will ensure that the candidates with clean background are elected, seems too unrealistic. The fact remains that politics thrives on followership. This might come out of genuine fan following or can be induced due to any number of considerations.

We have seen a few isolated mass movements on issues debated at national level – be it India or elsewhere, but this has rarely happened on local issues. We all know that it is much easier for a seasoned politician to mobilize voters – be it genuine followership or an induced one through profit-motivations. Therefore, there can be a situation where in a constituency of 100, the 90 suave, supposedly educated electorates decide to opt for NOTA but effectively it is the other 10 artificially induced voters who will decide the election.

So, in effect, the NOTA option will only help to secure the right of secrecy for such an induced voter – who can now claim a few gifts for exercising his franchise and at the same time follow his inner conscience by invoking the NOTA option with a loud ‘beep’.

Storm in the T-Cup

A Storm in the T-cup

The headlines of Telangana caught my attention as I picked up the newspaper early in the morning and sat in my balcony with a hot cup of tea.   By that time Mr. and Mrs. Rao, sitting in the balcony adjacent to mine, would have already finished their tea and would have scanned through the entire paper.  A quick exchange of pleasantries has been a morning ritual for us for past many years.  This morning though the scene was a bit different.  The two were immersed in the newspaper and did not even look up.  There was little conversation between them as well.

When I met Mr. Rao in my office bus, I wished him good day and realized that his charming smile was missing.  On further probe, I realized that the news of Andhra bifurcation had caused a wide crack in his life as well.  Mr. Rao hailed from Hyderabad and Mrs. Rao was from Vijayawada.  The news had created an emotional split in the family.  Suddenly, Mrs. Rao was feeling as if she was an outsider in this house.  She had emotionally broken down.  A good part of her life was spent growing up in Hyderabad and now she had to let that go.

The half-course dinner that Mr. Rao had last night, was the last meal that he had in the last 12 hours.  The kitchen went fireless this morning as the lady herself was on fire.  He did not even get his lunch box. She made Rao feel like being the main culprit in this episode.  As if he was the one heading the group of ministers. Yes, he did belong to the Telangana region but that did not take away his love for Andhra.  Suddenly, his 20-year old marriage became an ‘Inter-state’ alliance. His domicile status changed. He was worried about the small piece of land that he had bought in Vijayawada – if that would be called ‘illegally owned by other state person’; Mrs. Rao on the other hand, was worried about the Godavari water flow into the fertile lands of the remaining portion of her amputated  home-state.  One had personal concerns and the other had larger interests in mind.

Mr. Rao was also equally upset. He never thought his Tirupati Balaji would move to another state.  His favourite beach in Vishakhapatnam would shift to another province.  And then he realized that his brother in Hyderabad worked for the department of tourism. Will they close down his office -for there will be very little tourism left in the new state  -  or will he have to go through the agony of shifting his loyalties to another state government? And he consoled himself – his misery was of a much lower dimension compared to that of his brother.

I was not sure if this Andhra storm will weaken soon.  Being sympathetic to Rao, I decided to invite him over dinner, so that the poor man gets at least one square meal for the day.  He was happy to accept the proposal. And reason? Say, my birthday, I replied.  I knew this storm might hit my state, my family and me any day now.  This was a new tool of politics that could be reused like a ‘library function’. I wanted to be proactive and secure my dinner as a return favour from Rao, in case of any such eventuality.  

Amitabh Bachchan

Amitabh Bachchan has been writing blogs, tweeting short messages and is being followed by hundreds of thousands on social media.  All of us know that – some admire his enthusiasm; some brush it aside as just another internet addict.  However, last night while I was watching a regular quiz program on the television, I got to understand that Amitabh has been writing a blog regularly, every day, for the last 1999 days continuously.  That was a brilliant piece of information that made me pause and mull over that for some time.

Imagine someone following a regime for the last 5.5 years, without fail, rain or sunshine, on work or on holiday, offshore or onsite, high spirits or low morale.  Having a flair for writing or the ability to comment on something and everything is one aspect to be envious of; the sheer discipline that a person can follow is yet another. Mind it, he is not a retired man that you and me can complain about. He too leads an extremely busy work life and still has managed to stick to this discipline. 

While he always was one of my favorite actors, I had never liked him as a person in eighties.  I had read about his indifference to fellow workers but that of course was projected as his extreme professionalism – and I agree that a thorough professional he was, in the world of lazy, lethargic actors who always reported late on sets, he was the one who stood out by sticking to his committed schedules.  Later on, I had read as to how he had closed all his Bank loans that his failed venture ABCL had left him with.  With his political clout in those days, he could have well managed to give that a miss. The case would have gone on for many years. That again reflects his professionalism.

For a while, I was disappointed with his hobnobbing with certain political personalities but to my comfort that had to end.  He has stayed away from politics for many years now, perhaps a reflection of this straight forward person who values his internal peace more than anything else.

There is no doubt that he has risen from the ashes like a phoenix and has maintained majestic demeanor all through his good and bad times.  He has adapted to the changing times – be it an angry young man to a comedian-hero, be it from big screen to television, be it social media; he has changed himself to stay relevant with the times. An amazing personality indeed - that can inspire many generations. 

The half-a-rupee fun with cricket

Long years ago, when I was a tiny school going kid, the game of cricket was equally popular and was followed with a frenzied zeal.  For a 10 year old, it had all the excitement of a test, one-day and a t20 – though the last terms were unknown in those days. It was just the singular game of cricket; it didn’t matter whether it was played over 5 days or a few hours.

I used to live in Kanpur those days. We had two very large playing grounds near my house – within a kilometer on either side.  The size of free playing ground I have never ever seen in my life, in whichever cities I have lived in or traveled since then. For those who know about Kanpur would surely vouch for that – one was Motijheel and the other was Brijendra Swaroop Park.  I am not sure if these have become ‘protected’ and ‘charged’ facilities over the years but in those days these had gates open for all.

Cricket being an accepted ‘religion’ for all of us, this was our favorite pass-time during the evenings - but that used to be within the vicinity of our home, right on the street.  We didn’t have heavy traffic those days, nor did we have so many cars parked on the sides of the houses.  Yes, at times a few window panes were broken or a few passers-by got hit but the issue was always settled amicably with the help of some senior boys and at the expense of a few words of repentance and a few expressions of remorse.

However, Sunday’s used to be special.  We used to have matches played against the other teams, which were either some organized clubs or were representing the other streets of the locality.  The challenge was made a few days in advance and the ground and specific track was pre-agreed.  Early morning, a few representatives from both the teams will go to the ground and put their stumps at the appropriate track to reserve their playing strip.  The two complexes had multiple grounds of the size of KSCA, but every such ground used to have many playing strips where different teams used to play independently – completely oblivious of the other game. It was always on the first-come-first-served principle but on a very few occasions, some very senior blokes used to bully us out or used to force us to barter with another slightly inferior playing strip.  Nevertheless, it was part of life and we were happy as long as there was a place to play.

The red leather ball used to cost Rs.11/- in those days.  The playing eleven of both the sides used to contribute 50 paise each to make up for Rs5.50 on each side and together we used to buy one red leather ball.  The team winning the toss would invariably bowl first to take the advantage of the shine and the team fielding second would thus get the slightly older ball to bowl with.  The winner of the tie would take the ball as a souvenir and that we used for our practice for subsequent days, until the next win.  And that was the only expense that we would do – the two bats and one set of stumps will come from one of the team members; another guy would get a set of pads and we would use it only for the front leg – the other leg will brave it out bare. Sometimes we would have a pair of gloves but that was never a deterrent.

The passion that we played with, the fun that we had in those 4-5 hours, the sense of achievement that we got after winning a tie, and all that at the cost of Rs.0.50 is beyond belief today.  Even after spending a few thousands and securing a strategic view seat at the beautiful Chinnaswamy Stadium could never give me that kick. It is just that life was simple in those days. We never wanted anything more than that red cherry that we part-financed with the other team.  Neither we ever carried a drinking water bottle with us nor our mothers ever worried as to how we could play in sun without any food for 6 hours.  The municipality taps ran all through day in all corners of the ground and that was sufficient for us to brave the heat.

Life seems to have become more complex now.  The kids have to necessarily carry a fresh water bottle. All of them need to have their own personal kits. The white gear is more important than the batting skills. The grounds are owned or leased by clubs.  And all this may still not guarantee the half-a-rupee fun that we enjoyed in those days of cricket.

Safeguard your identity

The first time when I had traveled to Americas, about 10 years back, one thing that I had noticed was the importance given to an individual’s privacy.  So much so that even the cabin baggage tags in some of the airlines in the US and Canada had flaps to protect one’s personal information, unlike the simple open cards that we see around here.

Over the years, a lot of significance has been attached to identity proof in India as well. The KYC remains the buzzword in the financial world, even if there are a few exposures involving sting operations across Banks to ridicule all this noise around KYC.  The intent is good and it helps to curb black money, money laundering, suspicious activities, terrorism etc.  However, one closed door opens many others for the unscrupulous blokes. A couple of years back, one of my friends received a notice from a credit card company for nonpayment of dues. Not only the language of the notice was intimidating, my friend was completely astounded as he could not recollect ever holding a credit card of that company. After a lot of soul searching, he remembered having given his identity details to a credit card salesman outside his office gate – a copy of some identification proof and the salary certificate from his company but he never got the card. He had no idea where to follow up for the same and gave up his wait without bothering much about it.  As it appeared, the card was probably issued and either ‘landed’ or was ‘delivered’ into wrong hands.

As I was trying to recollect as to how many agencies I had given a proof of my existence on this earth in the last couple of years, the list was never ending.  I gave these documentary proofs for complying with KYC requirements of my 3 different Bank accounts; for getting a new credit card as that offered free movie tickets every month – this in addition to already having 2 other credit cards that were successfully sold to me by the highly persuasive sales agents; for getting a new Gas Connection; for opening a new bank account for my daughter; for getting a new driving license for myself; for opening a demat account to facilitate transfer of my ESOPs into a depository account; for opening a personal wealth management account with a PMS; for getting a mobile phone connection; for getting another mobile phone connection for my daughter as she did not have the required documents; for getting another mobile phone connection that came as a free offer while purchasing my groceries - the attraction was that my monthly spend on household items gave me extra talk time on this number; for getting a fixed line connection at my residence; for getting a USB data card that allowed me internet access while on the move; for KYC compliance of a mutual fund investment that I had done long years back when I did not have a demat account and hence this remained on paper; for getting an Election ID card – so that I can exercise my franchise as a responsible citizen; for getting an Aadhar Card that has become a new norm to find one’s identity. If I did not do that my kitchen stove would cost me double every month. These were 15, in case you lost the count.

The other day, the relationship manager assigned to me by my banker visited me with a request to renew my KYC details – as the same was to be renewed at some frequency as per the RBI guideline. And very nonchalantly, but to my shock, he informed  me that he had all my details viz PAN Card scan copy, my photograph etc in his laptop but all I was required to give was a printed photograph as the scanned one will not do.  My banker has been very ‘liberal’ in providing a new relationship manager to me every 2 years and I was horrified to think as to how many laptops would have all my personal details that can be put to any use or misuse.

I have always been wary of sharing these details with strangers without a compelling reason. In one case, the agent had asked for a second set as he had lost the original set of copies that I had handed over to him. While I made a lot of fuss and insisted on a written undertaking for the second copy, I was wondering as to what would stop him or anyone else to create multiple copies of the same set of documents.  Some of these agencies have insisted on self attestation and that at least checks against multiplication of these copies. However, this practice is not consistent with all the agencies seeking identity proofs. I think at least this practice of self attestation has to be mandated and insisted upon.

The identity proofs being so critical, there is a need for a central agency like UID to take complete charge of this aspect over a period of time.  In an ideal situation, I would not want to share any details or copies of my identity documents and a number like the UID number should suffice.  Any agency seeking my identity proof should have a binary confirmation on my existence through an automated UID-owned response center. There should be no need for multiple agencies providing same services.

If we do not put a leash on the free flow of these identity proofs passing through the fly by night small kiosks that work as outlets for growing cut-throat businesses, like the mobile network agencies, the day will not be far when we will find a SIM at the site of some terrorist act and the identity of such a SIM might lead to an unassuming you and me.  As a statistic says, the 900 million mobile phone connections in India are registered in only 300 million names.  I am not sure how many of these 600 million additional connections are in yours and my name without our knowledge.

Holi

It was the ‘Holi’ festival last week.  I had a working day in Bangalore as usual but noticed a flurry of mails and text messages almost all through the day, wishing me on the festival.

The festive fervor was oozing out of those messages coming from the northern part of the country where this indeed was an important social festival – full of colours, joy and gaiety.  As I was going through those messages, in between my meetings and conf-calls, a few impressions of this festival that I enjoyed all through my childhood and early adulthood crossed through my mind.  I would have never imagined in those days that a day will come when I will be sitting and working seriously at my office desk, while my friends and family in another part of the country would be having a blast. Notwithstanding the fact that many of my friends settled abroad, have long forgotten these festivities.  

In my early childhood, a night before the festival, we would fill water and colour in small balloons and store them in a bucket to be fully geared up for the morning blast. Appropriate clothing would be kept ready so we don’t lose any time on the morrow.  My brother and I had separate packets of balloons and hence separate buckets to store the filled ones. I wouldn’t be surprised if my elder brother had not flicked some of mine into his bucket surreptitiously as his stock always lasted longer than mine – nevertheless, I would have enough for the day to enjoy.  We used to throw those water balloons on the revelers and the passersby on the street from our terrace as we were not allowed to go down for the fear of getting mobbed amidst the frenzy.

A few years later, we had the freedom to go down to the streets albeit within the boundaries of our lane.  A group of friends will move together (called ‘Toli’) while pulling off some pranks on one another.  These pranks sometime got dirty – with some really naughty tricks using indelible inks, paints and other similar irritable synthetics on some pre-identified target groups or individuals. Such plans were put in place a few days or weeks in advance, with the highest precision and maturity of mock-runs that will put the current day program managers to shame.

As I grew into my teens, the fun was in moving to farther places in bicycles – to visit friends. As we covered one friend after the other, the size of the ‘Toli’ grew naturally. The celebration time extended from 4 hours to 6 hours. The best part of visiting friends was to have a sumptuous feast of Holi delicacies.  The ‘Ghujia’ being a common denominator, there used to be other different goodies in each house. The plates full of such delicacies would be lined up on a table in the living rooms of most of the neighbourhood households and every time a passing ‘toli’ cleaned that up, the plates were topped up again.

As we joined college, the celebrations got more sophisticated. More than throwing colours, the pleasure was in obliging the kids of the locality to throw colour on you and have fun. The more sober hugs replaced the otherwise boisterous duels.  Touching feet of the elders in the neighbourhood gave a sense of maturity. Special attention was paid to ensure this gesture was followed with and was noticed by the parents of same-age girls of the locality. So that your image stays intact.

 The experience of Holi has changed for me over a period – at least in this part of the country where it is not a major local festival.  I forget all the fun of my childhood when I instruct my kids to play Holi with temperance. To play Holi with some specific colours. To play Holi without wasting water.  To play Holi within the apartment complex – and only in a specified corner of the campus. To show restraint while hogging on the goodies.  Not only the parents, the civic authorities too telecast a host of do’s and don’ts that take away much fun out of the festivities – not belittling the need of the hour to educate people on such restraints.

This used to be an inclusive festival where anybody out on the road was a target and hence a part of the festival. In northern part of the country where I lived, no offices worked and no schools were open. There were no 7-day working Malls and the neighbourhood grocer was also a fellow reveler. Throwing colours on strangers was not an offence – it was a primitive version of the modern networking skills.  This has become more exclusive now. The celebrations are restricted to a family, to a community to a small group.

With so many constraints put on the fun, I will not be surprised if we soon hear the statutory warning on electronic media before the festival – ‘Holi celebration is a subject matter of solicitation….’

Happy Holi !!!