Last evening on the longest day of 2017, I met the kids and mums on the banks of the Seine where they had been lounging for a while. We were facing the tip of the Ile Saint-Louis, the smaller of the two islands that are amidst the Seine in the centre of Paris. The idea was to make our way through the streets catching what we could of the citywide festival of music, where performances both organised and impromptu were to be the order of the day.
We started ambling down Rue St Paul past sun kissed facades. Turning left on Rue Saint Antoine, the mothers were ensnared by an eager fruit seller while the kids and me dove into the less conspicuous but absolutely breathtaking Church of St Paul St Louis. It was cool inside the church, a welcome respite from the sweaty heat outside. Aadyaa was thrilled to be able to light another candle at yet another church, her latest fixation as we explore Paris.
The Rue Sevigne frames the facade of the church beautifully. I caught this frame as I turned back to make sure Udai was behind me. There he is to the right of the frame cooling himself in front of one of the ventilation ducts (yes, we are amid a heat wave here)! The street also has some delightful shops with lovely and enticing facades. I was reminded of Ho Chi Minh City where I fell in love with the shops decor. I’m wondering if it was the Parisian influence or the other way around!!
Turning left onto Rue des Franc Bourgeois we saw a string of heritage buildings, many of them hotels. This area is within the Marais, where the epicentre of 17th century Parisian society was during the time of Henry IV. One can only imagine how the hotels, designed in classical style with front courtyards and back gardens, were at the heart of aristocratic life in those times!
The Musee Caranavalet is at the corner and a few others including the delightful little Jardin de l’hotel Lamoignon that popped up to our left. We had begun to see signages inviting us into various buildings hosting the Fete de la Musique. The EDM sounds streaming from the Uniqlo premises perked Udai up a bit, but my expression must have told him how enthusiastic I am about that genre of music. So we walked on.
Amidst the beautiful framed entrances and detailed stone masonry, we found another treasure, the Notre-Dame des Blancs-Manteaux. A sanctuary dedicated to the Virgin Mary, there has been a church in existence here since 1258 though the present structure is more recent (1685). We sat inside absorbing the calmness and spirituality of the space. And just as we were leaving, the priest broke into the most melodious Latin incantations I have heard. Much credit, of course, to the acoustics of the church!
Our first musical encounter as part of the Fete was inside the premises of the Credit Municipal de Paris. A swing quartet if you please! Delightfully balanced and with strong vocals, this was a pleasure especially because of the scale of the little courtyard that made it an intimate experience. Watch the dancing and you’ll know what it felt like. Aadyaa and me joined in too briefly!
Next we heard young talent inside the historic premises of the Archives Nationales which used to be the Hotel de Rohan, one of the many 18th century mansions in Marais that used to belong to the Strasbourg bishops. Post the revolution, the building became the French government’s printing press and then the archives. The open to public courtyard was impressive as were the few performances we took in, featuring instrumental ensembles as well as opera singing!!
Our walk back to the Chatelet Metro comprised a pit stop to grab a drink and some dessert, a few more glimpses of interesting monuments framed by these historic streets (see the Tower of St Jacques below) and then we navigated our way through the growing crowds, hordes of people enjoying the fete, a giant outdoor party!!
Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. We saw this in action last year when the “masterstroke” of demonetisation announced by the Government of India on 8 Nov 2016 left India in shock. Journalists, academicians and industry experts, reacted with a flurry of writing taking diverse stands. A google search on ‘demonetisation India’ yields over a million results! These reactions ranged from open support, complete disdain, reportage on the misery citizens were facing, advice on how it could have been done better to optimistic pieces about how this could leverage long-standing change towards digitization, formalization and efficiency.
Over time, though, commentary on notebandi has become an entry point to discuss a large variety of problems and issues related with India’s economy. It is a testimony to how profound the impact of demonetization has been on Indian consciousness that months after it happened, we are still passionately analyzing it. Commentators are still writing about it, often continuing to use their analysis and arguments to support the exercise or reiterate its failure. Some, like Swaraj Editor R Jagannath have even dramatically changed their opinions, making for some unexpected media drama.
Others have used demonetisation as an entry point to delve deeper into questions that were already part of their frame of enquiry. At the Centre for Policy Research, for instance, we revisited old field sites across Delhi to understand how informal sector workers were coping . Qualitative research that sought to understand how informal sector workers coped with the absence of cash revealed to us linkages that were less obvious before. For instance, the impact of the supply chain on the livelihood of a small time grocer, was not something we had foregrounded in our studies on work and labour before. Neither had we dwelt on the strategy of migrant workers to switch from one type of work to another in order to survive in the city. [Hear our podcast and read op-eds on cash dependence and migration]. The results of a post-demonetisation survey of slum households in Mumbai published in January 2018 by Deepa Krishan and Stephan Seigel revealed a drop in income and consumption, yet showed overall support of the policy. This enquiry also appears to take forward the long-term interests of the authors in urban poverty and social issues in one case, and private savings and investments for the other.
To me, demonetisation has been useful to galvanize debate on three key interlinked issues, which I attempt to list here:
Invisibility of the informal economy: Beyond the immediate alarm bells that went out regarding the disproportionate distress the note ban caused to the informal economy basis anecdotal and prima facie evidence, the government’s report of 7% GDP growth over Nov-Dec 2016 and unchanged GDP forecasts rekindled debated about how the informal economy is measured by the Central Statistical Office while estimating the GDP of the country. This debate was particularly vibrant because the CSO had changed GDP estimation methods in 2015; ostensibly the new methods are better equipped to capture the informal economy. In retrospect it seems that the data machinery is simply not equipped to cater for a sever economic shock like demonetisation. As Kumar and Verma point out in their recent EPW piece on remonetisation:
“The impact on the unorganised sector does not show in the official data on the growth rate of the economy. This is because the methodology used by the government’s statistical organisation to measure the contribution of the unorganised sector to gross domestic product (GDP) is not valid when a big shock, like, demonetisation, is delivered to the economy. Hence government pronouncements on the economy’s rate of growth do not capture its true decline.
In brief, the unorganised sector of the economy employing 93% of the workforce remains hidden behind a veil by the GDP data and the monetary data. This can only be uncovered by alternative calculations. This is not just an economic matter but also a political and social one (emphases mine).”
Beyond the urgent need for “alternative calculations”, I would day there is also a need to understand deeply the linkages between the formal and informal economy. We should understand if informality is a choice at all and what forms of formalization, if at all, will benefit the majority of Indians. These are tough questions and will demand intricate answers.
The role of cash in the economy: Post demonetisation commentary yielded a rich discussion on the importance of eliminating cash and the benefits of digital payment systems, from tax collection and speedier transactions to hitting terrorism and other illegal networks. The cash ban was seen by some commentators as part of a global offensive against cash. Indeed, the note ban did boost the idea of digital transactions and sent fintech companies into a tizzy, though a spike in the actual figures is debatable. On the other hand, bank data also showed that cash was being withdrawn upto pre-demonetisation levels as early as March 2017. All in all, this transition will need a more sustained effort hinging on improved connectivity infrastructure, improved security and much more awareness.
It will also need a curious approach to implementing taxation rules. Many of those in the informal economy are insecure after notebandi. Landlords and small-time entrepreneurs in urban villages that we have interviewed recently, for instance, have brought up notebandi in nearly every conversation, with no instigation from our researchers. The context has almost always been a sense that the government is looking more closely at defaulters. People seem to feel that they need to comply with the system, own PAN numbers and file tax returns, for the government to leave them alone. Whether they intend to do this to truly fall in line or to do the bare minimum and find innovative ways to scout the rules is another matter!
We have to acknowledge that cash transactions and informality are deeply ingrained; unless digital is significantly cheaper and hassle-free it will likely be slow to take off. More importantly, the fuzziness around informality and the reading that informal is likely also illegal needs to be deeply understood. Scholars have written extensively about how, in practice, the rule of law in India is riddled with exceptions. Demonetisation and the subsequent efforts towards formalisation could be a unique opportunity to study how the average Indian’s perception and practice of the rule of law is changing at this time.
The jobs debate: The role of the cash crunch following notebandi has been a recurrent theme in the reportage and analysis on the recent farmer protests in Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra. However, the real problem of agriculture is that too many people depend on it (R Jagannath calls it the farm crisis a jobs crisis in disguise) . There simply aren’t enough decent non-farm jobs going around! Demonetisation has opened the Pandora’s box on the jobs crisis. Of course, this has been an anti-Modi political scoring point by many, but the failure to create jobs for India’s has been an enduring problem that needs both immediate and long-term solutions.
The answers lie in busting a few myths around urbanisation, migration and urban-rural links, perhaps too many to list here. But I will try to encapsulate my thoughts on this. One, the majority of job seekers criss-cross between rural and urban locations in pursuit of work; a migrant-friendly view of urban development would help match jobs, skills and labour while leveraging improved connectivity to develop rural production centres is an important strategy too. The role of small towns is key in this. Two, and following from the above, rural and urban are not distinct spaces in the Indian geography. In reality, the boundaries are blurred. Dense villages and sparsely populated cities, megapolises and remote rural settings all have their place. So a place-based and spatial approach to planning for jobs—and related infrastructure, skill development, housing and amenities—is absolutely key.
So 2017 is the year of discovering Paris for me. Sometimes stuff you never even dreamt of comes true. I’ve spent the last couple of months steeped in logistics for this stint here, chiefly to manoeuvre things so the family could join me for some time, but without actually thinking about what it would be like. Delayed gratification, have you heard of it?
When we actually got here, it’s in the middle of a heat wave. It’s like we brought the bad weather with us from Delhi. Ever tried 37 degrees without ACS and fans?
I’ve been at work during the day, in a stifling office with the nicest people wading through literature as part of a research stay. In the evenings, I’ve tried to join the mums and kids as they explore the city. Museums in the heat is the mantra they are loosely following, spending the mornings in our rental apartment and dashing into a museum in the hot afternoon.
Yesterday I met them outside the Musee Rodin and we walked around the area, ending up in the courtyard of les Invalides, which houses the Military Museum. In this beautifully proportioned space, Aadyaa was inspired to sketch and Udai conjured up fantasies about cannon balls, fire and destruction. The walk across the vast lawns towards the Seine felt good, with the cool grass under our feet and the winds beginning to blow.
We ambled pointlessly wondering where to eat. Food was very much on the mind of the young man, who can be super fussy and was likely imagining a proper Parisian meal. Down the steps right next to Seine, the city was settling into a long evening of fun and partying. On a whim, we ordered burgers and joined the picnic. What bliss to sit dangling our feet over the lovely Seine watching the world go by, hearing laughter and conversation and sharing a hearty meal. Doesn’t Aadyaa’s expression say it all?
Everything is political in India right now. Simple pleasures are tinged with the political. Conversations, amplified and intermingled with digital social interactions, are no longer linear but imbued with multiple meanings. For instance, I befriend someone I nod at on my regular evening walks. I think this person is nice. We become Facebook friends. On FB, I find this personal has a radically opposing political stand than mine. Our evening conversations become strained. I am no longer able to separate the political from the personal. I’m suspicious about a (probably) innocent comment by the said friend about her house help’s ethnicity, for instance. I’m questioning her motivations even as I nod and listen to her. Mentally, I’m wondering if I should change my walking routine!
I’m sure this has happened to many of my friends in India. This inability to separate what used to be separate worlds for many of us middle class folks has brought an element of stress into everyday life.
This is to be expected. The spectacular rise of the BJP on the back of Modi’s popularity is rewriting the script for how we live our lives. The political thinking of our parents’ generation was dominated by post-Independence thinking and the enormous footprint of the Congress party (whether they were supporters or opposers). Young folks today are looking for change and novelty. They are accepting that the BJP is here to stay and falling in line with its new script.
For folks like me, in their 40s with a political sensibility that is part-old and part-recent, these are confusing times. Personally, I am well aware of the dangers of echo chambers. As a researcher, the easy trap of preaching to the converted is something we discuss all the time. I am used to analyzing my own speech, writing, behaviour and I put everything under the scanner.
Even so, I am deeply uncomfortable about this point we seem to have reached, when facts are junked almost entirely and we seem consumed by the political narrative. We forget that it is change driven by evidence that will eventually drive policy, innovation and investment, the factors we need to evolve, become economically stronger and deliver a better life for India’s people.
As Kaushik Basu points out in his recent piece Look at the facts of demonetisation, Modi’s ‘master stroke’ is a perfect example of a move that has been a total failure in its own stated objectives, but yet touted repeatedly as a success by a political establishment that seems to have simply erased the word failure from its vocabulary. I would be perfectly ok if they said something like: We tried our best. It did not work out as planned. I would be happy to admire the immense boldness of the move if the analysis of its outcomes were honest.
But the politics of today does not allow me to take a nuanced position. It does not allow me to be neutral if I am not also silent. For example, the critique of demonetisation offered by my colleagues and me (read our two opinion pieces here and here and listen to our podcast here), for instance, was read by several as anti-Modi anti-BJP rather than an honest analysis of what we observed in our research. Those who engaged with the content were rarely our critics, but there were many who judged us by the titles of what we wrote. There were those who refused to engage, insisting on slotting us into a particular narrow political spectrum.
Why is it that we have become so averse to complexity? Why does everything now have to be black or white, yes or no, aar ya paar? For a nation full of fence sitters, why is being politically non-aligned, or simply cautious, now a cardinal sin?
Seeking opinions on parenting a teen….
A parent never does really know right from wrong. We think we do, but in my experience a lot of it is guesswork. There appear to be some broad rules and the rest is a matter of instinct. Most times, we draw from our own memories of what we remember from our childhoods. But neither does memory always serve us well, nor are circumstances always comparable.
What we do remember though, is a code of ethics, the rights and wrongs, the general patterns of our childhoods. Who set these patterns? Our parents, other elders in the family, our peers, our living environment- many elements went into that mix. For some of us, these rules were clear despite their complexities. For others, they changed with frightening regularity, which meant we never really knew whether we were breaking them, we never really knew when we might be in trouble.
Sometimes, when we…
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As a mom-investor, I am trying out something new to discover my children’s interests. Would you be open to this?
There is no doubt that we parents are deeply invested (arguably, over-invested!) in our children. The quality and extent of this investment is a constant subject for debate and introspection among parents across the world. In a changing India, where economic liberalization has meant new experiences in technology, lifestyles, aspirations and opportunities for a burgeoning middle class, parents are facing new challenges.
Right from the outset of our parenting journey, Indian parents grapple with a clash of tradition and modernity. We ask basic questions about child bearing and rearing- nappies or diapers, when do we potty train, alopathy or home remedies…you get the picture. As our children grow, we struggle to keep the balance between using parental authority and encouraging independent thought. We feel frustrated when the methods our parents used with us fail to engage our children. We worry about safety, education quality and how to nurture talent and…
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Introducing my all-new parenting blog!!
Much of the post below was written 5 years ago when I set up this blog, but for reasons unknown I never actually got going. Here I am now, reposting in the hope that I will reguarly contribute to the very important conversation around parenting.
Isn’t it already overcrowded, the parenting space? I tried several different names just to get this one for my blog! I have wanted to write about my experiences as a parent for a long time now. So many discussions with friends on other seemingly unrelated issues turn to parenting all of a sudden. I have realized, after a long struggle, that my parenting side has now got infused into everything else that I do. That instead of going to work, or going shopping and coming back to my kids, I actually look at work, chores, friends and indeed everything in life from the lens of…
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No matter how confident you are about your parenting skills, the impending teens are just sheer trouble. And it’s not about the kids. They’re doing what they do. Procrastinating, wasting time, shuffling along, despondent. Or on overdrive, wanting to overachieve, pushing you over the edge. But what do you do?
Try to be there for them, is the advice I get. But what does that mean? Does that mean be a silent supporter, opining only when asked, standing around in case you need to have their back when they are in trouble? Or does that mean being the dragon mum, actively helping them work through issues, holding them to deadlines, negotiating time schedules? Neither of the two is a comfortable position. Are you doing too little, or too much? And then there is the issue of losing your cool. For when you get there, the battle is surely lost.
A wise friend told me to not overthink it. She said I have to trust that the kids will eventually be more like the parents in terms of their values and mental make-up. While that is comforting, do I not get the chance to alert them of my own shortcomings? Can I tell them what they should not be doing, tell them about the errors I made?
I’ve been thinking (no I cannot not do the overthink!) about this for a few weeks now and I think each one of us has a teen inside us. At the core, I still feel the urge to defend myself even when I know I’m not right. I still gravitate towards those who agree with me, while dismissing folks with a contrary opinion. I still think people who judge me are uncool. I still struggle with setting goals from time to time. Have issues with planning my time and even occasional ego hassles with co-workers and friends. Yes, some bit of me is still a teen, part-time sulker, part-time enthu cutlet!
And so, I will listen to the wise ones and try and lead by example. Focus on my goals and stay calm. Leave the door open. And hope my sanity does not walk out through it!
Amma + Amma = Amamma
It’s a month today since her passing. I know she’s gone, but I still haven’t fully registered her absence. It struck me this past weekend, as mum and me sorted out her sarees, and her scent wafted around the room, that it isn’t possible to really comprehend the death of a loved one. We try, we pretend to be all pragmatic and grown up about it. We talk, we share memories, we laugh. And then, one day, in an unexpected moment, we find our cheeks wet and our hearts heavy. We find we cannot breathe very well for a few moments. Then things appear in focus again. And life goes on.
At least that’s how it has been with me this past month. The thing is, Amamma and me have always been very close. She was a second mother to me through my early childhood when I spent two years with my grandparents in Delhi while my parents were abroad. I followed her around like a puppy dog in my growing years when they lived in Bangalore, loving the scents and flavours of her divine cooking, inhaling the aromas of freshly ground coffee and the freshly picked jasmines from her garden. She had a beautiful voice and my best memories are of Amamma singing her morning prayers even as she went about doing her chores. A busybee if there was one! She taught me how to do a mean kollam and everyday of the summer vacations that I spent with them, she encouraged me and guided me in making better designs.
She was the one who pampered me during my 10th and 12th grade Board Exams, rustling of my favourite eats and handing me coffee in a flask before turning in at night, knowing I could be up studying. Even in college, when she lived alone in Chennai, I remember visiting her from college in Delhi to spend time with her. She was a good sport, accompanying me to Kancheepuram to study traditional homes for my B.Arch dissertation way back in ’98. In recent years, she has been in Gurgaon living in the adjacent building with my mum. Though the roles were reversed and it was me checking in on her every now and then, we shared an easy bond with much laughing and cuddling involved.
My relationship with Amamma was different in a very marked way from nearly all other relationships in my life. We never shared an intellectual relationship, even in part. Instead, our bond had a deep aesthetic and emotional foundation. I have known for a long time, and this has only been reinforced by the sort of memories that have surfaced recently, that I derived my love for the beautiful things in life largely from her. She shaped my aesthetic tastes in a very profound manner. In my deep comfort with music, in my enjoyment of religious rituals despite my agnostic position on religious belief, and most markedly in how I choose to dress. Her grace and beauty, inside and out, left an impression on me right from my early years. My love for dressing up, for beautiful clothes and traditional jewellery is entirely a result of her grooming and her generosity.
I see now how I’ve styled myself after her time and again, and this was brought home to me during the #100sareepact I was part of in 2015. Being the only grandchild with so much access to her, I’ve benefited from numerous handouts from her cupboard through my life-bits and pieces of jewellery, scarves, perfumes, and of course, sarees…..Each piece came with a story, a nugget of wisdom, a bit of gossip from her past. Through the years, I have constructed a veritable tapestry of her life experiences, from her childhood to her life as a wife and mother. Even those stories, unraveling from her sarees and jewelry, have been an invaluable education.
When I woke up this morning, I wanted to make today special. I wanted to clear the haze of grief and celebrate the zest and spirit that she had always had for life. I wore her saree, one of those many that have made the journey from her cupboard to mine over the years. I felt her warmth, I smiled her smile, I felt beautiful.
Don’t ask my why this is my first visit to the Jaipur Literature Festival, the literary event that seems to have caught the fancy of the public owing to its curious mix of the eclectic and popular. To be honest, it hasn’t been high on my radar but this year work took me to the Pink City during Litfest week and the coincidence was too much to ignore.
I managed to squeeze in a few sessions, all of them invigorating. Whether it was Pavan Varma quizzing Naqvi on his reading of history or Manu Joseph making tongue-in-cheek remarks about the difficulties writers face putting themselves in the opposite gender’s shoes, the content was rich and engaging. Every single venue was full. The ones with Bollywood personalities were distinctly overflowing. But sessions on Sanskrit writing and the literature of anger as expressed by Dalit and tribal writers were full as well. I wondered why.
One way of looking at it is that there are simply too many people at JLF and they have to go somewhere and do something! And while this is true, I suspect there’s a lot more going on here beyond the thrill of attending a mela.
I identified a few distinct types of visitors- the artistic and creative community, the must-be-seen-here types, the book lovers, the firangs, the senior citizens and a large number of school and college students. After a point, I opted out of the sessions and just sat and watched the crowd, overheard the conversations and chatted with folks. I met college kids from Jaipur who had chosen sessions because they were about subjects that were new to them. A friend who attends every year comes here to meet authors and expand his book collection. One young couple told me that it is exciting to be at an event like this where you get a chance to rub shoulders (literally) with everyone from popular Bollywood personalities to your favorite author. For some students I met here, being at JLF was like traveling the world, gaining a new set of experiences. Neither can I complain about passive audiences; I found questions from the floor were very sharp across age groups in the sessions I attended.
Clearly, JLF means different things to different people. All things said, it is certainly a step forward in taking literature, art and academic writing out of its elitist bastion (and may I say, pushing those in the bastion to learn a thing or two from the real world outside!). This is a new world where young people explore many ways to engage with new ideas and fresh content. Our schools and colleges are hard pressed to offer that novelty and excitement and maybe events like this, in some infinitesimally small way, fill that gap. Can we do more?