Hindustan Times vs. Times of India-

"Government spending and contracts today are black holes into which taxpayers’ money is shovelled with little or no outcome and accountability. This unaccountable spending is the breeding ground for corruption and nepotism. "Rajeev Chandrasekhar, Rajya Sabha MP,  Hindustan Times, 10 December, 2010

  It must be my lucky week.   We've had both newspapers delivered three times this week which has meant I could put the Times of India (TI) straight in the rubbish.  The TI is the print equivalent of the old Bollywood movie: something in it for everyone, and often all on the same page.  Both the HT and TI have horrible 'social scene' sections with large colour pictures of Indian celebrities and American starlets in varying degrees of undress. One page of this section has the cultural offerings of the city for the day so I do sometimes find myself scanning swiftly through the rubbish to find the exhibition or concert announcements before marching that section smartly to the bin.

For fun this week I decided to take a copy of the front section of each newspaper and do a systematic analysis of the contents. It wasn't a pleasant experience and probably added to my growing anger about some of what we observe here. :)

TI is shameless in exploiting every gruesome story by writing about it three times if they are short of copy.  There is a callous factual presentation that somehow doesn't recognize the humanity of victims.  Emphasis is on the blow by blow details of the crime and little attention placed on  rehabilitation of victims or redemption of situations.  They seem short on editorial staff and layout people too as the typos and malapropisms are frequent and at times delightful, while several pages have articles that look like icicles trickling down the side of the page with just one or two words per line.

Front page on Wednesday had two fairly modest ads across the top under the Times banner and in the bottom right quarter. Two above the fold leads, and one under the fold, lead focused on Indian corruption,while the central lead was about a terrorist blast on the anniversary of the Ayodha mosque destruction.  The Wikileaks founder arrest got a front page spot as did the Sarkozy team.   (Monsieur S has had plenty of good press as has Carla who made the Indians' day by praying for a son on their visit south,  but it is nothing like what Mr and Mrs. Obama received for weeks before and after their visit.)  Corruptions stories continued from page 1 and new, are featured on p. 2 (2 items), p. 3 (2), p. 4 (3), p.6(1), p. 7 (1), p.9 (1), p 11 (2).  From about p. 13 the newspaper gets quite legitimate and the back 2 pages of business and 4 of sport look reassuringly familiar.  The Varanasi bomb story from p.1 generated almost a page of articles p. 16 with a gruesome photo of the one fatality - a little girl with the unusual name of Swastika (Wikipedia: The word swastika is derived from the Sanskrit word svastika, meaning any lucky or auspicious object, and in particular a mark made on persons and things to denote good luck).  the report mentioned that poor little Swastika's body was to be taken for a post mortem.  All seems totally inappropriate - photo, report, examination.  The gruesome stories of the city: A young man persuaded his friend to join him in killing an annoying girlfried p.3; Petrol pump attendant beaten to death by irate customer after the attendant pumped in more petrol than asked for p. 4; School taxi driver beaten to death by another driver when his car dented by the taxi p.4;  An angry railway passenger snatched a 4 year old off a seat he wanted and threw her out the train door near a station.  She is in critical condition. p.9

On a lighter note there were government ads on p. 2 (Delhi International Arts Festival); p. 9 (to promote plastic recycling- another no frills notice that won't get much attention ); and p. 9 (display-cum sale of Kashmir products organized by Ministry of Textiles)p. 17 (half page ad to encourage tax paper returns from Income Tax Department) and p 27 (half page ad for Handicrafts Week again paid for by the Ministry of Textiles).

A total of 15 complete pages of the entire 28 pages were devoted to advertising.

The HT looks less tabloid-like.  It has a separate htbusiness section (8 pages of which fully 5 are advertising). While the last 4 pages of the main section are devoted to sport.   Friday's front page above the fold lead is corruption in politics.  Climate change and ICC Cricket World Cup also make it above the fold.  Under the fold the Indian ambassador's frisking got some coverage as well as China's approach to visas for Kashmiri residents  and a piece on the increase in airfares.

In contrast to TI the HT  does a better job pulling articles on one topic together. P. 2 is crime and the city.  Manager's murder, gang rape investigation, Delhi women not safe, pickpockets, murder of a teenager, 27 yr old stabbed to death, truck hits senior, fines for using the bus lanes.  However, there seem to be more items than can fit on that one page so there are more of these grim reports scattered through the following pages: teen burns cigarette vendor for failing to give him cigarettes on credit; traffic cop thrashed by speeding driver.

The front section of 24 pages had 11 entirely devoted to ads.  1 1/2 pages of those ads sponsored by government agencies, Ministry of Textiles biggest sponsor.

Conclusions of the scientific analysis: When possible avoid The Times of India.

Poinsettias are finished - It shouldn't have come as a surprise to me, but it did: poinsettias are in full red leaf in the heat of the summer months here and only a few rather ratty exemplars are now available because, of course, now the temperatures have dropped and the plants will only grow green leaves and no one in India is going to be forcing any plants in greenhouses for the odd Christmas celebrations!  So I have contented myself with a rather orphan-like runt of a poinsettia and am hoping to coax a few more green leaves onto its lower limbs in the next two weeks.

People don't seem to plant so many plants in the ground here.  They keep masses of plants in pots.Even in public gardens or   outside office buildings, museums or municipal sites the landscaping is often in large terracotta pots that can easily be trucked away and replaced.  I used to think the work was still in progress - perhaps the pots had been delivered, but the plants not yet put into the ground - but now realize thie pots are just frequently replaced.

There are two garden centers very close to one another in the block next to the Khan market (so upmarket clientele).  They have a very diverse offering from bedding plants, vegetable starter plants all the way to perennials and shrubs and a steady stream of flowering plants for each season.  I was impressed given how small each plot was and how built up the area is.

I found the tiniest little terracotta seed starter pots, really the size of a thimble.  The salesman was amused that I found them so extraordinary and was delighted to give me a couple - I might even string them as a Christmas tree ornament. 

It still comes as a bit of surprise that in every place the workman's laundry is fairly evident. We should be used to it by now, but it still hits me like one of those picture puzzles I loved as kid "Find the ten mistakes in this picture" or "find these hidden objects in the picture."  Strolling amongst the annuals I find the day's laundry drying. :)  Well perhaps the gardener lives on the premises, or perhaps he can only do the laundry during the day or perhaps it is that  he can't possibly leave it unguarded all day.  It all blends in quite well anyway.

99 years of growth - I spotted this ad on the street today and foolishly didn't get the whole of the wording in the picture.  The Central Bank of India - Central to you since 1911.  Where growing is a way of life. :)
It struck me that given the climate in India and the 99 years of banking history that their little illustration with a few leaves really wasn't very impressive.  Perhaps it is, however, realistic. Just imagine what it could have looked like if they too had invested heavily in the American subprime market - perhaps a cotton plant after the Boll weevel got to it, or a wheat crop after locusts landed.

To give or not to give? -  If Rohinton Mistry's A Fine Balance  is accurate then a kind of beggar mafia exists in some cities in India. 'Protection' is given to beggars; they are assigned specific areas to beg in; they will be fed and clothed (appropriately for their professional needs) and the money they collect will go in the main to the Beggarmaster.  I am busily trying to ascertain whether this has any credence.  It isn't easy to ask just anyone this kind of question - I have so far met with raised eyebrows and shrugs of uncertainty.  Even if there were no Beggarmaster I would still not want to give any beggar money on principle, but even more so if the money wouldn't even go to help the destitute but to line some beggar manager's pockets.  I have grown used to seeing the beggars on specific corners. Surely that isn't right.   What should I do?

Today in broad daylight in the middle of the day I marched up Lodhi Road with my video camera and one of those black nylon briefcases (that some conference gave Bert) with a modest load of oranges, sultanas and almonds (I still vividly remember the protein deficient Sudanese children I met and guess the Delhi street children don't get much of a balanced diet either) and a simple English/Hindi children's book.  As anticipated one of the band of kids, where my Chaplin/Jackson entrepreneur weaves his way between the cars at red lights to perform, walked up to me as I approached.   I think he is probably Charlie's older brother - not quite so talented and doesn't have the same swagger as his younger slightly more agile brother.  I smiled at him and showed him my camera and asked permission to film him.  Not sure if he fully understood, but he gladly performed and I showed him the video which he enjoyed and then he asked for "Money M'em?" and I shook my head and handed him the briefcase.  He wasn't thrilled and then I opened it and showed him the fruit and he got a bit more interested.I just smiled again as his younger sister approached curiously and I walked off.  Not responsible for their reactions, but at least feeling I didn't do any harm. 

Here is the young entrepreneur: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3C9VZPOpOlc
You have to look closely to notice that he has a small weight on a string attached to his cap that he twirls and he uses a wire ring to climb through.   Notice too the small sibling in pink behind and to the right of him who walks into the traffic to 'work' the crowd as the light turns red.  

Felix pointed out yesterday that India theoretically provides free education for all children.  It would surprise me if these children are ever going to school and yet they are on a main Delhi road in a wealthy area, hardly hidden from view.  

Delhi Newspaper ads- There are plenty of ads in the paper and amazingly it seems that any space can be bought. One guest was quite stunned that the bottom quarter of the front page of the Times of India had a Harpic toilet cleaner ad running for most of a week.  Occasionally I guess that someone puts down an even larger sum of money and an extra half front page is folded over the paper for something that has to grab our attention even before we recognize our paper.

We don't choose our paper.  The hotel provides it.  The Times of India comes daily and when we are lucky we also get the Hindustan Times.  HT ads are far more sedate than those of TI though both regularly have an ad on that front bottom left of the front page.  TI has a lot more large full page ads and more colour in them than HT.

Both papers have quite a few public service type ads and these are a puzzle to me.  In contrast to the very high tech and professional appearance of the usual ads the government ads look like something from the 1950s or early 60s. There is a half page ad in yellow red and blue for YELLOW PEAS DAL issued in the public interest by the Government of India Ministry of Consumer Affairs.  There is a photo of quite lovely (very white) hands holding a clear bag of dried yellow split peas on the left and a very 2-D drawing of a school girl on the right pointing to the highly enlightening info from the Ministry:
A Nutritious and Healthy diet at a reasonable cost
Benefits of Yellow Peas Dal
It's an excellent source of:
Protein Carbohydrates
Fibre. . .and other benefits

[Spelling and punctuation faithfully reproduced.]  The ad kindly includes places that these peas are available.  What is the point?  Is that dusty old ad going to persuade anyone who reads a paper to go and find some dal to cook up?  Did the ministry have extra budget that needed to be used up before the year's end in case someone decided to cut that amount from the next year's budget?


It is easier to understand the colourful spread announcing the inauguration of the Barapulla Elevated Road connecting Sarai Kale Khan, ring road to Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium.  The pictured ministers and contractors are glad to be associated with a success and some good news.

I don't remember seeing so many celebrity endorsements in newspapers elsewhere, but here the Bollywood oldies, Amitabh Bachan and Shahrukh Khan, seem to be in the papers almost daily recommending household paint or watches.

My favourite ad so far has been for an upscale shawl shop and it starts out:
'The fourth anniversary of you forgetting her birthday.

 The eighteenth anniversary of her parent's saying no.
...
So what are you celebrating today?
Anniversary Gifting Ideas by Ahujasons.'

Mistry and Nasrin - I have struggled to finish two novels in the last couple of weeks.  Taslima Nasrin's Shame about the backlash against Hindus in Bangladesh after the demolition of  the Babri Mosque in Ayodha, India, in 1992, and Rohinton Mistry's A Fine Balance, a gripping 600 page weaving of threads describing several lives in 1970s India after Indira Gandhi was accused of rigging the election and the State of Internal Emergency was imposed.

Nasrin's novel was turgid in its sporadic quoting of newspapers and reports.  Her novel lost the thread of urgency and involvement in the characters because of her repeated documentary digressions.  She hit us over the head with her statistics and lists of atrocities perpetrated against the innocent Bangladeshi Hindus in  retaliation against a group of Hindus' desecration of a mosque in another country.  I am sure that everything she wrote happened, probably not all to one family, and the writing does help see the utter barbarity of the violence and gave me a far better understanding of the recent history of Bangladesh.

Mistry's novel, on the other hand, is a page turner.  In his work, too, I suspect that most of the events are possible, though hardly all probable in one set of characters.  However, this book, too, had to be put aside for days at a time as the degree of pain and inhumanity he describes was unbearable. 

The Fine Balance paints a grim picture of caste in the villages with elections being a total farce:
 "'There must be a lot of duplication in our country's laws,' said Dukhi. 'Every time there are elections, they talk of passing the same ones passed twenty years ago. Someone should remind them they need to apply the laws.'
'For politicians, passing laws is like passing water,' said Narayan. 'It all ends down the drain.'"

Mistry goes on to explain how the voting proceeded: the election officer was plied with gifts and led off to eat and drink the day away, while the local goon's henchmen got every villager to put his thumb print on a ballot which the henchmen then filled in as the goon directed.  Narayan decides that he will vote for himself in the next election and the goon has him and the whole of his family annihilated.

Mistry describes a Mafia like organization for organizing beggars in which there is a Beggarmaster who 'takes care of' the beggars by giving them poignant identities, specific begging territory, 'protection,'and if they have might have babies he takes care of 'professional modifications' to make the babies more pathetic and thus more profitable in the begging profession.

Both novels are unrelenting in their depiction of misery and horror and evil.  Although I learned a great deal by reading both I don't recommend either book.

There is a larger discussion of good and evil that these stories provoke.  Evil is present in all parts of the world, but I feel that it is far bolder here than in the west.   Ghastly things do happen in London and Washington, but everyone agrees that they are ghastly.  Here there is too much indifference to the suffering of others and a tolerance for evil that sometimes makes me feel hopeless. 

Clearly lots of God-sized problems in India, and not likely that I will persuade Indian politicians to start enforcing the laws they promise to pass, but perhaps I can walk the little book and oranges up the street to my little band of street urchins entertaining the rush hour traffic.   Oranges and books won't be collected by any Beggarmaster.

As an absolute antidote to the depressing reading I bought myself Madhur Jaffrey's autobiography of growing up in India, Climbing the Mango Trees.  She can't possibly publish a grim book - it would destroy her revenues on all the cookbooks. :)

Nizamuddin Auliya (1238 - 3 April 1325) - Nizamuddin Auliya was a famous Sufi saint and his tomb lies around the corner from us.  The immediate surroundings of the tomb are a jumble of medieval looking buildings with Muslim locals living, working and worshiping on top of one another.  I don't go here by myself and none of us venture in after dusk.  It feels very alien.  We are in sight and sound of a major flyover but crossing that main road and walking into the Nizamuddin West neighborhood is like stepping back several centuries.  The streets are very narrow and there are goats running and climbing everywhere.  A shady tree incongruously (this is a Muslim neighborhood) looks as though someone has put an offering at the base of it.  A couple of vegetable vendors have small barrows laden with fresh vegetables and the local barber is wielding his razor under another large shady tree while his customer examines the progress in the mirror propped up against the trunk of the tree.  Laundry is hanging on any available surface.  Flies buzz lazily around the hanging butchered meat (those goats are here for a good purpose) and the smell of the butcher's establishment mixes with the city grime.  There are several tailors busy at their narrow doors and plenty of people watching the obvious intruders.  Bus loads of Indian tourists come daily, but they don't stand out quite like us.  We can see what we think is the dome of the tomb and keep walking in circles towards it.  We find a collection of sellers with fairly elaborate stalls of tourist like items as well as the required head coverings and masses and masses of fragrant rose petals, and a young chap trying to earn some money guarding all the shoes that visitors to the site have to discard at this point, all set up around an ornate arched entrance.

We all need the head coverings.  There is no English sign to indicate we have got to the place we are looking for,  but everyone is urging us in and all those vendors wouldn't be in the wrong spot so we leave our shoes to the entrepreneurial young man and head down the cool marble floored corridor in the stream of people.  There are many sitting along the walls, some lying down and sleeping,some begging with open hands and mournful moanings.  A few little children in varying degrees of dress wander about with no apparent anxiety or parental supervision.  The corridor takes a left turn.  More little shops with Arabic and Urdu and western translations. (Of what?  We'll have to go back and find out.  It is a topic for another post, but it is remarkable that this is a Muslim neighborhood and Nizamuddin was a Sufi and today people of many faiths come to his tomb.  India is puzzling.)  The corridor takes a right and there is an opening to the right showing the jumble of building balanced tightly upon one another.  Another right, and then a left and a quick right (more small shops) and another opening showing where the large ablution pool should be. 

Tank is what it is called here - not a pool or a pond, but a tank. 

The idea, that we can probably all relate to, is that to come onto holy ground one should be clean.  This tank, however, is very, very sad.  Another Indian mystery: if the tomb is so precious, and we take our shoes off at the door and walk 1/4 mile barefoot to get to it, why don't people respect the tank enough to not throw their rubbish in it?  We've passed a couple of rooms which have some learned discussion going on inside and the whole length of the passageway we've passed the same odd assortment of people who seem to be permanent fixtures.

Finally, at the end of the tank the corridor opens onto a square with the saint's tomb in the center and a mosque off to the west side.  There are perhaps a hundred people milling, sitting, praying, discussing and a couple of vendors still hoping I'll buy rose petals for the tombs (there are several other venerables buried here).  The little town was built onto the tomb and mosque areas.  Nizamuddin seems to have been gifted at reconciliation and after his death his reputation for healing was so respected that others wanted to live within the shadow of his tomb so there are other buildings literally built onto all four sides of the tomb area.

 The overhead canopy is pulled out to protect visitors from the sunlight and makes the whole area seem smaller and more crowded.  Women are not permitted into the actual tomb, but men are encouraged to circle it inside the pillars.  It is fascinating - the whole area perhaps only about four square blocks and less than 1/2 mile from two five star hotels - but it is quite a bonus to stop back into 2010.