http://www.asianage.com/international/soils-blowing-wind-875

Soils: Blowing in the wind

Dec 29, 2015 

As the International Year of Soils (2015) draws to an end it may be pertinent to ask, how clean is our soil. Soil and clean? Sounds like an oxymoron. Perhaps that is why, while we speak of clean water or clean air, there has been very little talk about soil contamination. Like air and water, soil too has a direct bearing on the health of the people as 99 per cent of the food we eat grows on soil. Along with the food, we are also ingesting pollutants from the soil. Yes some of the pesticides and chemicals from the soil have entered our food chain. Before we go into more details, some facts about soil.

Soils are not inert. They are dynamic living systems. In fact, nowhere in nature are living species so densely packed as in some soil communities. Many insect species are soil dwellers for at least some stage of their life-cycle. A typical healthy soil is home to several species of vertebrates, earthworms, 20-30 species of mites, 50-100 species of insects, tens of species of nematodes, hundreds of species of fungi, bacteria and other organisms. Soil biota are central to decomposition processes and nutrient cycling. Soil is one of nature’s most complex ecosystems and one of the most diverse habitats on earth. Organisms inhabiting soils form a complex web of ecological activity called the soil food web that makes all life possible.
Take the humble earthworm, for instance. They ensure good, healthy soils, tirelessly digesting leaf litter and other biomass along with soil. In so doing, every 24 hours they produce one and a half times their weight of rich compost, high in all plant nutrients. The earthworm’s night soil has bacterial population that is nearly a hundred times more than in the surrounding soil. While burrowing they till the land, making it porous and easy to breath for the roots. By increasing the soil’s capacity to hold air, moisture and aggregates it helps to resist erosion. Like earthworms, other organisms living in the soil also nourish it. On good soils depends our world’s food security: let us not mindlessly trample upon them.
Ironically, actions we took, or are still taking, to make land more productive in order to meet the food requirements of our growing population have caused immense damage to our soil. The harm caused by excessive use of pesticides and chemical fertilisers has been so extensive that it could pose a real threat to our food security. And by 2050 the earth’s population will bulge to 9.6 billion. Unfortunately, much of this “bulge” will come from India, besides China and neighbouring South Asia. The world will need 60 per cent more food. India, for sure, will need to arrest the bulge and reverse land degradation. A third of India’s land is already degraded, putting a question mark on the sustainability of its food production.
According to (2010) estimates of the Indian Council of Agricultural Research, of India’s total area of 328.73 mha, about 120.40 mha is affected by various levels of land degradation. Nearly a quarter of India’s land is affected by desertification. As water and wind erosion is widespread across India, some 5.3 billion tonnes of soil gets eroded every year. Of this, 29 per cent is permanently lost to the sea, 10 per cent is deposited in reservoirs reducing their storage capacity, and the rest 61 per cent gets shifted from one place to another. Desertification or soil erosion, mainly caused by wind and rain, are natural phenomena we can mitigate by providing forest or other vegetation cover.
Where we need to bring about a major change is in the judicious use of pesticides and chemical fertilisers. Currently, many of the pesticides that India produces and uses extensively have been banned in other parts of the world. For instance, Monocrotophos, banned in the US because it killed birds and a wide variety of non-target insects, is still being used in India without any supervision. Excessive use of chemical fertilisers and pesticides is particularly high in the north-western part of the country and is one of the major reasons for soil degradation. A fallout is that the pollinator population — bees, butterflies, insects and even birds — has dropped drastically, a fact borne out by the Global Pollinator Project that was implemented by FAO, GEF and UNEP in 12 countries including India.
Reviving soils or pollinators will require an ecosystem approach to farming. It’s time we realised that farming is part of the eco-system and that soils have to remain sustainable for future generations, also keeping in view its important role in carbon sequestration. For now, the responsibility for soil health lies somewhere between the MoA, MoRD, and the MoEFCC. Their energies need to be synergised and the ministry of chemicals and fertilisers, responsible for all the pesticides and chemical inputs, needs to be brought into the discourse of soil health. It has to be an integrated approach.
The country’s recently launched Soil Card programme may, to a certain extent, solve the problem, provided it is backed by extension services to farmers. While a wealth of knowledge and research on soils exists in the country these need to be communicated to farmers. Unfortunately, simple measures like using leguminous plants in nitrogen fixing through crop rotation or mixed cropping are not being practised extensively. The results are there for all of us to see. Perhaps it is still not too late to make interventions that prevent or even reverse land degradation. We need to remind ourselves, it takes a thousand years for 1 cm of soil to be formed. Let’s prevent our soils from being blown away in the wind.
Shyam Khadka is the India representative of the UN Food and Agriculture Organisation

The untouched forest of Pawalgarh: wildlife in Uttarakhand...in Outlooktraveller

Ashim Choudhury 

Sighting a tiger is something of a ‘luck by chance’ at the new tiger conservation reserve, Pawalgarh in Uttarakhand. But nonetheless, the virgin forest is worth exploring.

Pawalgarh, recently anointed a tiger conservation reserve, is to be found 18 kilometres beyond Ramnagar. Just after you meet the olive green Maruti Gypsy ‘trekkers’ in Ramnagar (who jam the way and pester you with, “Corbett, sir…Corbett?”), ignore them and take a right into a deceptively narrow road. This is actually the highway to Nainital. After about 12 kilometres down this route, which is intermittently interspersed with forests and farms, you come to a village that goes by the name of Bail Parao. We took a left, ducked under a forest check post and entered a teak forest. After driving onward for a little over six kilometres, we were in an open, flat land, painted green with wheat farms and dotted with homes on either side of the still-narrow road. This was beautiful Pawalgarh. We drove along a freshwater stream and finally entered a gate to our right. It was love at first sight with the forest bungalow here, built in 1902—with its colonial architecture, and the khansamas attending to the kitchen, it was like living in the days of the Raj. We even had a lit-up fire in the fireplace!

Subhoranjan Sen

The scenic Corbett Falls

That afternoon we hopped on to a ‘trekker’ to go to the conservation reserve across the road. Soon, we descended onto a sandy route through a thicket of sal, silk-cotton and other trees. In no time, we were upon a vast white expanse of sand and boulders. Dodging the round rocks, we soon crossed a stream…and then another stream. Our guide, Range Officer Kripal Singh Bisht, informed us, “We’re crossing the Dabka River.” It’s barely a stream now, but quite a fierce sight in the rains, when it turns brown in colour.
Would we get lucky enough to see a tiger? That was the thought uppermost on our minds as we were about to enter the Pawalgarh forest. Our ‘close encounter’ with the tiger had begun at Bail Parao. Just before taking the turn for the Pawalgarh Conservation Reserve, we had enquired about lunch at the wayside Annapurna restaurant. We retreated when we learnt that it was vegetarian, but the young owner entreated us to stay back. He would prepare ‘non-veg’ for us as long as we were discreet about it. And believe me, the pepper chicken at the vegetarian restaurant was among the tastiest chicken curries we’ve ever had!
As we ate, the young manager of the outlet, Ganesh Thakur, got talking about tigers. Pointing to a garden umbrella in front of his shop, he said, “There was a tiger standing here at this very spot about a month ago.” I took his tiger-on-the-main-road claim with a pinch of salt. But then I had to believe his story. “It was dark…around 4am in the morning,” he said. “The milk truck had come to deliver milk. When the driver saw the tiger, he called us on the phone, warning us not to get out of the house.” The tiger hung around for over 15 minutes before vanishing into the fields. No, Thakur had not seen the tiger with his own eyes, but he was ready to call the women of the house across the road—they had seen it. “Should I call them?” he asked. I had to stop him physically. Thakur concluded philosophically: “Seeing a tiger is luck by chance.” He recounted how a young couple, tourists who had eaten at his restaurant, spent a full day at Corbett looking for a tiger, in vain. “But they finally saw a seven-foot-long tiger on their way here,” he exclaimed. “It is luck by chance!” That was his credo.
Thakur’s story of sighting a tiger was given credence by two local women a day later, when we were buying groceries at Bail Parao. They had seen a tiger in the sugarcane fields just a little beyond the main road. “We were on our way to the primary school,” they said. And they giggled, tickled by the very thought.
But as we crossed the bumpy river bed that cuts through the Pawalgarh forest, looking out for the striped cat, there was only disappointment in store. Our only source of joy was tiny black fish in a pool of water formed by the sparse river. The water in the river, the forest guards informed us, was not from melting snow but from springs in the mountains.
We were by the edge of the thick forest, on the other side of the river now, when another piece of good news reached us. We were just taking a bend into the forest when Range Officer Bisht ordered the vehicle to stop. Pointing to a path that led in the direction of the river, he said, “This is where we saw a tiger—it walked away majestically and it was so large. We got the scare of our lives!” Bisht said it with a sense of self-importance, as though he were showing us a real tiger. Was it a male or a female? Bisht and his guards were not sure how to distinguish a male from a female tiger. But, yes, the pug marks can be revealing (longish for the female tiger; round and larger in males).

Subhoranjan Sen

A trail through Pawalgarh forest

A few minutes later, we climbed up the forested hill and entered the Hathi Galiyar elephant trail. Elephant herds, we were told, often take the same path, from which they rarely stray when travelling from one ‘elephant corridor’ to another. I was struck by the sheer size of the sal and other trees. Pawalgarh is a virgin forest with very little sign of human incursion.

Subhoranjan Sen

Nilgais at Pawalgarh

The only sign of human activity was at a clearing. Trees had been cut down to make way for grasslands. With winter just ending, the shoots of grass were still not out. But when fully green, they would be grazing grounds for the hundreds of spotted deer in Pawalgarh, and thus hunting grounds for tigers and leopards. Besides the chital, Pawalgarh is home to other antlers like the nilgai, and kakad, a small goat-like deer. There were also hares, wild boarsand langurs. Pawalgarh also has over 350 species of birds. Among the birds found here are the black stork, the Great Slaty Woodpecker, and a variety of hornbills.
It was in the mornings and evenings that birds were most active, even around the forest guesthouse. In the afternoon, we spotted a serpent eagle circling in the sky. But what was most heartwarming was the sight of (now endangered) vultures. Feeding on a carcass by the river bed, they looked like giants of the sky when taking off on their large wings.
In Hathi Galiyar, we saw elephant dung lying around a waterhole built by the forest department. Fresh water is brought through a pipeline connected to a spring some three kilometres away in the nearby forest. There is one more pipeline that feeds another waterhole a few hundred metres away. An elephant’s footprint was still fresh on the edge of the wet ground around the waterhole. Trap cameras were strapped to the branch of a tree, yet we saw neither elephant nor tiger anywhere near the waterhole. The evening light was fast fading. But stories from the forest guards accompanying us came thick and fast. “A few weeks back, the grey tusker came charging at the CCF,” said a guard pointing to the spot from where one walks towards the waterhole. ‘The grey tusker’ was an angry ageing male that was known to be particularly intimidating. “Never run away from an elephant—stand your ground and it will go away,” the guard informed us. “That’s what the CCF sahib did. And the grey tusker quietly turned away.” Stories about the Chief Conservator of Forests, Kumaon Range, Paramjit Singh, are legion. Considered the moving force behind the creation of Pawalgarh CR, Singh also heads the anti-poaching task force.

Subhoranjan Sen

The quaint forest bungalow at Sitabani

We returned from the first waterhole and clambered on to the trekker. This time round, we took the path further towards Sitabani. Suddenly, the trekker swerved from the path and turned left into the thick forest. We were feeling lost when, winding through the jungle, it finally stopped at a barrier. We were at another forest clearing, at another artificially created grassland with a waterhole. Our sudden arrival in this secluded place apparently scared the grazing chitals. They darted into the air and scampered into the forest on the other side of the grassland. Another herd, caught unawares by our presence, literally flew into the cover of the thick forest. Pawalgarh in many ways is a virgin forest in that the animals, unlike in neighbouring Corbett, flee at the sight of humans. Besides deer, we saw flocks of tiny parrots, flying across the clearing. By the time we got back to our trekker, it was close to nightfall.
At night, the forest takes on an ominous air. We were watching out for that lurking elephant or crouching tiger. With nothing to feed our fear and curiosity, we wanted to go to Sitabani, a few kilometres away. “It’ll not be safe to go to Sita Bani,” Range Officer Bisht told us. Animals, particularly elephant herds, could threaten our safety, he said. I looked at my kids in the back of the trekker, urging me to take the risk. I was in two minds: one asking for adventure, the other for safety. But Bisht, responsible for our safety, had already made up his mind. So we abandoned our plans to go further into the forest.
Instead, we retraced our path through Hathi Galiyar. After the darkness of the thick forest, the opening of the river afforded us some light. As we were crossing the river, my keen eyes caught a black piece of shit on a boulder. “What’s this?” I asked Bisht. I didn’t realise I had spotted the most precious piece of animal poo in my life. He got out of the trekker, took a close look with his torchlight, and announced, “Scat, tiger scat…do you notice the hair?” Yes, the scat has hair as well, because tigers eat their prey along with the fur and skin. By now, I was also out of the trekker to inspect the poo. Never in my life had I cared so much for a piece of poop. But this was no ordinary shit. In animal biology terms, we had hit upon a gold mine. Of the 46 tigers that inhabit Pawalgarh, a figure that the CCF vouches for, all we got to see was scat. Nothing more. I was reminded of Ganesh Thakur, the young restaurateur at Bail Parao. He was right. Seeing a tiger is luck by chance only!

Why save the Bumble Bee...?

The dwindling population of bees has become a global concern as it affects agricultural produce
By ASHIM CHOUDHURY in almora

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IF you are a city dweller, it is likely you haven’t seen a bumble bee in years. And there is not much hope to spot one soon either as their numbers are falling. Even in the countryside, their numbers have dwindled alarmingly. This needs to be taken seriously as they are among the best known wild pollinators. It is through pollination that plants and trees produce crops, vegetables and fruits. Though many crops are pollinated by the wind, a large number depend on bees, butterflies, drones, flies, insects, bats and birds.
Bumble bees help pollinate crops like coffee and large cardamom, among many others. The bumble bee is a metaphor, just like the tiger is a metaphor for saving our wilds and the environment. There are 18,000 wild bee species, besides butterflies, drones, hornets and flies, birds and bats whose free services are being increasingly missed. Apples, oranges, mangoes, apricots, strawberries and many other crops are likely to get affected due to the falling bee population. I was in the hills investigating this story when an onion farm in full bloom shocked me. There was not a single bee or butterfly flitting around. The absence of these little winged visitors on our farms has escaped the notice of even farmers and orchard-growers. In fact, many of them are not even aware of the free pollination services these nectar-raiders on the farm are providing.
What escaped the notice of our farmers—and the media as well—caught the attention of experts across the world. The UN’s Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), the Global Environment Fund (GEF) and the UN Environment Program (UNEP) joined hands for the Global Pollinator Project (GPP), that started in January 2010 and concluded in December 2014. The five-year project, involving seven countries— Brazil, Ghana, India, Kenya, Nepal, Pakistan and South Africa—set out to “conserve and manage pollinators through an ecosystem approach to farming”. Simply put, it attempted to improve the bee, butterfly and other insect (pollinator) population by reviving their habitat—essentially forests, weeds and untended fields that have tiny wild flowers on which pollinators feed and thrive. Europe already has what is known as the Big Bee Project, to address the bee-colony-collapse syndrome.
RELEVANCE FOR INDIA
Why is the GPP so important for India? Kevin Gallagher, acting representative of the UN’s FAO in India, is concerned over the disappearing pollinator habitat. “Declining pollinator populations are one of the greatest threats to the world’s agricultural economy,” he warns. Falling bee, butterfly and other such populations is a consequence of dwindling biodiversity. Ironically, farming activity itself degrades biodiversity and small ecosystems on which pollinators survive, and in turn, help increase farm produce. Unlike wheat or rice, horticultural crops like fruits and vegetables are more dependent on nature’s pollination services. Pollinators like bees, butterflies, birds and bats affect 35 percent of the world’s crop production and are responsible for increasing the output of 87 leading food crops, including many medicinal plants. With horticulture’s increasing importance in food trade and nutrition, the role of pollinators has become important. “Pollinators are closely linked to food security,” says Gallagher. “There’s an urgent need to raise awareness on this issue.”
A key reason for a steep decline in pollinator population is the indiscriminate use of chemicals and pesticides on our farms. These not only kill intended pests but cause collateral damage to the bee, butterfly and insect population. Dr RS Rawal of the GB Pant Institute of Himalayan Environment & Development (GBPIHE), who was GPP’s Principal Investigator in India, says: “Besides the increasing use of chemicals and pesticides that have led to natural pollinator declines, there are bad farming practices like burning of post-harvest fields… and of forests.” Burning not only kills pollinators but also destroys their homes and breeding grounds, he says. This writer was witness to vast swathes of burnt landscapes in the Konkan, where burning farms after harvest is, like in many other places, a common practice. In summer, raging forest fires are a common sight in the hills of Uttarakhand or Himachal Pradesh; these are often lit by locals. Urbanization has led to a steep decline in the pollinator habitat and population. Most wild bees and drones make their home on the ground or on the branches of shrubs and trees that dot the land. But these untended spaces are fast shrinking. “We need to harness the free services provided by nature. The eco-system has to be rejuvenated,” says Rawal.
GPP’s aim is to restore the health of natural surroundings where bee and insect populations can thrive, particularly in times when there are no “flowering” crops like mustard or pulses. In the absence of flowers (food), pollinator populations dwindle rapidly. This is particularly true during extreme summers or extreme winters when little or no flowers/crops grow. The GPP had four main objectives or STEPs—study, training, evaluation and promotion. In the words of Dr PP Dhyani, Director, GBPIHE, its aim was to “increase knowledge of pollinators among farmers and create an enabling ecosystem around farms for wild pollination and finally, mainstreaming wild pollination services into best farming practices.” Currently, while diminishing returns from excessive use of fertilizers and pesticides is a concern, there appears to be no holistic policy on increasing yields through sustainable practices that the GPP espouses.
BOOST TO AGRICULTURE
“The project has clearly demonstrated that pollinators can help in improving agricultural yields,” Dhyani says. “This calls for aggressive efforts towards pro-pollinator policies and programs, both at the national and state level.” The value of good pollination can be understood better when you see a well-pollinated fruit. An apple or a strawberry that is well-pollinated, for instance, grows much larger and shapelier. Besides higher yield, it also fetches higher prices. The apple growers of Himachal have understood this well. But with natural bees and butterflies virtually missing, they are now hiring “domestic” bee colonies to fill the gap in nature’s pollination services. However, use of chemicals and pesticides continues unabated. It’s only a return to organic farming that can revive the natural pollinator population. Multi and mixed cropping, and interspersing farms with flowering plants and trees provide the way forward. Good pollination depends on a wide range of activities by bees, butterflies and birds. Experts are now turning to nature to fill the gap. The plan is to restore natural pollinator habitats particularly around farms.
Many decades ago Albert Einstein has said: “If bees disappear from the surface of the earth man would have no more than four years to live.” In all probability, he was warning us to protect pollinators and save farming from collapsing. The important question is, are our agricultural scientists and policy makers alive to this issue? Will they save the lost habitat of the humble bumble bee?

The Organ Transplant Man

Ashim Choudhury

Whenever one of those NRI boys from our school, and there are plenty of them in the US, pass by Delhi there is a call from the St Joseph’s ‘batch of ‘75’ to organize a get-together for the ‘Umrikan’. For the desi ‘boys’ from Allahabad, where our school still stands, there is no such preferential treatment. So when there was this invitation to meet up at the CSOI – that subsidized watering hole for the civil service babus – I wasn’t really excited. Moreover, try hard as I might I couldn’t quite place this childhood classmate. Dr Ajai Khanna’s name just did not ring a bell. To be honest it’s a trifle embarrassing to go meet an ageing man, who was once a classmate, and say, ‘But you know, I cannot remember you.’ No one likes being told that.

I wanted to ignore this mini class re-union. But then when the invitation is from a school buddy who also happens to be an IAS you can hardly afford to say, ‘No.’ So politely, I sent an email querying, ‘Is Dr. Khanna a classmate?’ The babu from the election commission obviously felt slighted and did not condescend to answer. When he finally called up to confirm if I was coming he said, “You don’t know Ajai Khanna?” I was silent. “He was the poorer Khanna from our class, the one who lived in Chowk (Allahabad).” I remembered the snobbery of the guys who lived in Civil Lines. But there was another Khanna in our class as well! I was jogging my memory when Sudhir broke in, “He’s a top notch doctor in the US, famous for multi organ transplants.”

That clinched the deal. “I’m coming,” I said, “You never know, tomorrow I might need an organ transplant.” Though said in jest, at 57, with all the smoking and drinking, the need for replacing an old organ is not something to snigger at. So on that cold Sunday morning I headed for the Civil Services Officer’s Institute. The imposing CSOI building can rival the best clubs in Lutyen’s Delhi. Parking at the basement I was hoping to catch one of our old friends at the foyer. There was no sign of anyone. When I finally called, Sudhir said, “We are in the bar.” That’s how I found Lutyen’s Bar; but not my friends. Another call and he said, “I’m in the PSOI bar.” That’s when I discovered the babus had another bar in the neighbourhood, adjacent to Nehru Park.

I was just entering PSOI when a car blocked my way. It was one of our classmates. “This is the place,” I told him hopping into his car. Rana was all excited, “You don’t know him? Yaar, he’s world famous…Multi-organ transplant karta hai.” Perhaps, he too needed some organ replacement, I thought. Quickly parking, Rana displayed the excitement of a schoolboy who was just about meet Bill Clinton. He was nearly running into the club, leaving me far behind, panting. By the time I caught up, we were in the dimly lit confines of the bar. It took while to adjust to the darkness.

Sudhir stood up among a clutch of old friends. There was one I did not recognize. With him I shook hands asking hesitantly, “Ajay?” The balding man said, “I’m Sharad Bajpai!” That’s when Sudhir responded to the quizzical look on my face with a sheepish grin, “Ajai did not come. There was no message from him either.” A cuss word escaped me and I said, “F*** this is not done!” I was disappointed also because my future planning for having an organ or two replaced was not happening yet. Sensing the gloom the waiter butted in cheekily, “Kya laoon saab!” What did he have? “Whiskey mein Red Label, Black Label, Bulu label…” I was clearly bowled over. Gone were the days of ACP, RC and bagpiper in babudom! It was black label that finally lifted my fallen spirits. That afternoon we also agreed that from now on all those Umrikan schoolmates visiting India would not get any preferential treatment. Instead, in keeping with the changing times, they would have to throw us a ‘ghar vapsi’ party!   

The Media is Crawling.....!

Modi’s “cheerleaders”

The Fourth Estate has changed beyond recognition and its role as a watchdog has been severely compromised under the present prime minister
 

BY ASHIM CHOUDHURY

I USED to be a Modi fan till the other day. I was among those who felt that the secular “national media”—read English-speaking—was hounding him rather uncharitably over the Gujarat riots. So when the Modi wave was building up in the early summer of 2014, I wondered: “Will they let him survive?” After nine months, I realize my fears were unfounded. The moral high-ground-holding “secular” media has suddenly vansihed. I have scoured the newspapers for their venom and found none. Where have the Modi-haters retreated? Some have had a change of heart after the new dispensation took over from the mild sardar. Some have reinvented themselves, saying they now see a new Modi – Mark-II. Prominent among these is the self-confessed “Congress stooge”, Vinod Mehta.
SURPRISING CALM
To be fair, there has been no major reason for the media to be on a collision course with the BJP government. Outwardly, the media is functioning as unobtrusively as before. In fact, when Prakash Javadekar took over as the I&B minister, he made a statement; he said that the new government did not feel the need for such a ministry. Hidden in this was a subtle message: “We expect the media to regulate itself.”
If you have a trained eye, you will notice the change. The media is no longer cocky, and very little dirt is dug up on the government of the day. The government and the media appear to be at peace with each other. This is disturbing, because the media, by its very nature, is an adversary to the government. It’s a watchdog.
Rajdeep Sardesai recently said that it’s the job of the media to ask hard questions, not to sing paeans. The media heaping praises on the government is as dangerous as the chief justice of the Supreme Court, HL Dattu, saying: “Modi is a good man.” Being a neutral upholder of the judiciary, his statement was a breach of protocol. But did the media go to town with that story? There were just a few superficial stories here; nothing in-depth. That’s what is worrying. The media instead of pillorying the government, appears to be protective.
The unceremonious sacking of two of the country’s seniormost bureaucrats—foreign secretary Sujatha Singh and home secretary Anil Goswami—should have provided enough fodder for the media to react.
So what has really changed? “Nothing,” says Binoo John, a senior journalist with irreverence in his DNA. “Modi has been a dictator even in Gujarat, that’s his style,” he says, adding that all governments try to manage the media and meet with different levels of success. “The BJP uses a carrot and stick strategy,” he observes. Another left-leaning “Modi-baiter”, Paranjoy Guha Thakurta, is more circumspect. “A large section of the media is acting like Modi’s cheerleaders,” he says. Recalling Advani’s famous words after the Emergency, he says: “They have not even been asked to bend, and they are crawling.” But not taking questions from the media is not unique to Modi. He says: “Even Sonia Gandhi did not like being asked tough questions.”
Is the press being manipulated under the new dispensation? Guha Thakurta says: “Yes it is, in a subtle manner.” But he says that the kind of arm-twisting that happened during the Emergency cannot happen now as the media has changed beyond recognition. It’s much bigger now and more diversified. The state no longer enjoys the kind of control it did in the 70s and 80s when there was no social media.
CORPORATE BOSSES
With large sections of the media owned by big businesses, like the “friendly” Ambanis, there is a threat of the media being compromised. Well-known economist and political commentator Mohan Guruswamy does not mince words. “Apart from professional integrity, there are issues implicit in ownership. Take Rajendra Darda (under a cloud due to the Coalgate scam) of Lokmat, for instance. What will his paper report on the coal scam?” he asks. News X was controlled by the influential Niira Radia at one time, before the 2G spectrum scam came out in the open. Matang Sinh, facing charges over the Sharada chit fund case, owns a TV channel in Assam. Tamil Nadu supremos, J Jayalalitha and M Karunanidhi, control most of the electronic and vernacular print media in their state.
Threats to editors are mostly veiled and rarely come out into the public domain, unlike the case of Shirin Dalvi, who had to go into hiding despite apologizing for her “crime” of having used a Charlie Hebdo cartoon on the cover of her Urdu magazine. Governments often cut off revenue supplies that come from its ads. Tehelka is a stark example of how it is slowly being strangulated, with its revenue streams choked. Tehelka has come to a stage where it often cannot pay its staff or contributors. Pradyot Lal, one its editors, says: “Anti-establishment journalism is forever stressed and squeezed. The present dispensation is a hydra-headed phenomenon presided over by a megalomaniac. You cannot expect any real freedom.”
Closing the money tap is just one aspect. But the PM has put the screws on the flow of news as well. Earlier, media persons depended on various news sources and leaks. All they had to do was sniff around and do some talking. But after Modi’s gag order, no one is talking. Neither the ministers, nor the bureaucrats, and not even the moles. Even stalwarts like the articulate and erudite Advani has shut up. The last time he spoke on a national issue was when he said that he found nothing offensive in the film PK. That must have required some courage. And to imagine Advani was once an iron man.
Modi has changed the way the media interacts with the government. He doesn’t even have a media advisor. The man who spoke so much before becoming prime minister and even mimicked “Maun” Mohan for his quiet rectitude, has suddenly fallen silent himself. Apart from the lone interview to CNN’s Fareed Zakaria—so much for apna desh—he has not given a single interview or held a press conference, betraying a deep disdain for the media. His “Mann ki baat” and other addresses to the nation are monologues that go against the grain of democratic dialogue. The media, to borrow someone’s expression, should be imbued with an abiding and healthy cynicism. I’m reminded of a recent headline: “Teesta Setalvad being framed….But where’s the outrage?”
Yes, where’s the media’s self-righteous outrage?

Why the BJP blew it up in Delhi...

Blame it on Obama!

February 20, 2015

Arrogance often has a fall. And how! The drubbing received by the BJP in the Delhi polls shows that it can ignore the common man only at its own peril

By Ashim Choudhury

It was Obama who did the BJP in! Okay, that was a jumla (a figure of speech meaning it was a joke). Had the US president not come, Prime Minister Narendra Modi would not have changed his clothes five times a day. He would not have worn the pin-striped suit with his name written all over. That suit became his undoing. It got talked about ad nauseam for all the wrong reasons. He was mocked on social media for his das-lakh-ka-suit. Many thought it ill-fitted the prime minister of a country, where hundreds die each winter for lack of protective clothing, to wear a suit that cost so much. And the poor, mockingly voted him out. “But this was a small state election, not Modi’s test,” BJP men lamely say. But, of course, it was Modi’s test! From the word go, they put Modi’s face to the campaign. It was brand Modi on sale. It was a bad idea to start with, and against the BJP’s stated policy. Remember how they riled at the Congress for not having a “PM face” to their campaign?
The people of Delhi were left wondering if the PM would also double up as the chief minister. There were murmurs saying whoever became CM was irrelevant, the remote, anyway, would be with the PM. It was only towards the end, when the BJP belatedly realized that there was no buzz around the PM, that they quickly imported “Crane Bedi”. People soon found out she was a “faking crane”, and BJP’s trump card turned into a joker. On Facebook, people were having a laughing fest. Some of that middle-class laughter trickled down to the streets. Bedi’s utterances didn’t help much. The BJP’s rank-and-file in Delhi was sniggering at her. They felt betrayed, humiliated and demotivated. And she behaved like she was already CM. Soon, there was a gag order on Bedi. Putting a finger on your lips, particularly during election time, is not a bright idea.
COSTLY SILENCE
Modi’s own silence on a string of sensitive issues, whether it was love jihad or ghar wapasi or four children for Hindu mothers, was deafening. Suddenly, in a city like Delhi, churches were burning or being vandalized. When pressed, cronies like Arun Jaitley said the prime minister of the country did not need to comment on every minor issue. True, the events were minor, but the issue was larger. And, that message was brought home by, guess who? Obama! After all that backslapping and bonhomie—the namak haram, as a FB post endearingly put it, gave Modi a parting jab in the rib. “India will succeed so long as it is not splintered along the lines of religious faith…,” he said at a town hall meeting in Delhi, with polls just a few days away. After his return, the White House issued a clarification that the remark was being misconstrued. That consolation was soon snatched away when Obama reiterated at a solemn National Prayer meeting that had Gandhi been alive, he would have been “shocked”. The real shocker was the Delhi poll results. A FB comment by a Muslim girl summed up the minority mood. She wrote: “Ghutan kuch kam si mehsoos hui aaj subah humein (I felt a bit less stifled this morning).”
By the time it was time to vote in Delhi, Modi’s image had taken a severe beating. He came to be seen as a charlatan, high on promises and slow on delivery. The Swachh Bharat campaign he launched on Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday was a masterstroke that had won over even the cynics. But that goodwill was frittered away. The streets and by-lanes of Delhi (like in the rest of the country), where ordinary people lived, saw little improvement. All he needed to do was to pull up the municipal officers and workers. After all, Delhi has a huge army of workers, mostly absent, on its payrolls. So where was the action on Swachh Bharat? It became a farce. BJP netas were jostling, clicking pictures of themselves with the broom. A great opportunity was lost.
The poll promise of bringing back black money met the same fate. It was one of their main political planks. Months later, Amit Shah, the “tainted” BJP chief, who many saw as the party’s winning mascot, said sheepishly that putting Rs 15 lakh into every account was just a jumla. The jhadu (broom), the poll symbol of the AAP, too became a jumla in the hands of the people, sweeping away the BJP’s rising fortunes. It’s unthinkable that just nine months ago, Modi’s BJP, riding the crest of an ant-corruption wave, had won all seven parliamentary seats in Delhi. What is it that so alienated the people? Arrogance.
COMPLETE IMAGE TURNAROUND
At that election, with his grand oratory, Modi assiduously crafted his image as a humble tea-seller capturing the hearts of ordinary Indians. But in the nine months, despite improving the economic outlook, or India’s image as a great investment destination, Modi consistently gave the perception that he was corporate India’s man up there, not the humble chaiwala. They saw him mollycoddling the Adanis and the Ambanis. They were there at the high table, during his grand swearing-in, during the banquet with Obama. Not inviting Kejriwal, a former chief minister, to the Republic day parade not only showed him as mean, it also betrayed his aversion for the aam aadmi. The rest, as they say, is history.
The analogy of the rabbit-tortoise race is not out of place either. Smug in the victory of the Lok Sabha polls, the BJP was happily napping when the AAP had already oiled its poll machinery, geared up by its young spirited volunteers. Moreover people wanted an alternative to the usual set of politicians who they see as rogues. AAP, with its young idealistic workers, and the Anna movement behind them, was an alternative at hand. That Kejriwal had abdicated a year back did not help. There was a ring of sincerity to his unconditional apology in meeting after meeting. It worked. People forgave him. But the BJP, in panic by now, began its one-point agenda of mudslinging. Bhagoda, bandar, baazaru, manhoos, were some of the words they used to describe him. The final straw was when half of Modi’s cabinet, led by the vitriolic Seetharaman attacked AAP for its Rs 2-crore “hawala” money, when day-after-day they were running front-page ad campaigns that cost a bomb. That one boomeranged.
Two days before people actually went to the polling booths, a smug Arun Jaitley said: “People have two choices before them, development and anarchy.” Clearly, they voted for anarchy. And now they want the anarchy of the policeman and other extortionists on the streets to end.
Kejriwal has a tough job ahead. He has to fulfill his promise of free water and cheap electricity, at least to the poor. And the BJP will do well to cooperate with the AAP instead of trying to scuttle him. Already, people are saying that BJP-ruled Haryana will not give water, as promised. Such disruptive and vengeful politics will only erode the credibility of the BJP with the poor. Let’s not forget, a majority of Indians are poor. The vote is the only weapon of mass destruction they carry, as Delhi has just shown. Another lesson, the sensex is not the best indicator to gauge the mood of the people.

Proud Moment...!

The affable Defence Minister of India Manohar Parrikar poses with a copy of The Sergeant's Son. Hoping, he also reads it and gets an insight into the lives of ordinary soldiers and their families.
 

My tribute R.K Laxman, creator of the orginal aam admi ...!

Long live the Common Man

• Obituary

He was India’s best-known cartoonist, though his creation was more popular than he was. With his deft lines and witty humor, this prolific genius touched many lives day after day, year after year
By Ashim Choudhury

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It was July 1990. Calcutta was agog. RK Laxman was coming to town for his exhibition, “City Life”, chronicling the life and times of the city through his sketches. I was with the air force then, but nurturing dreams of making it as a writer and a cartoonist. And before me, at the exhibition, mobbed by admiring fans was the legend himself. I instantly made up my mind to interview him. He wasn’t very obliging, as I neither had a prior appointment nor was I on the staff of The Statesman or even the fledgling Telegraph. But, not one to be put off by insolence, I pursued him doggedly, forcing him or, more often, his wife to answer my questions. “City Life” was a roaring success as his sketches had transformed Calcutta’s garbage dumps, potholes, and traffic jams – all those mundane, frustrating aspects – into hilarious images.
Since he did not live in the city, I was prompted to ask how he managed to draw those vivid sketches. “He has a photographic mind,” Kamala, his wife offered. “He has a remarkable ability to remember places pictorially.” The sketches were products of an earlier visit to the city as he remembered it. It was this pictorial aspect of his cartoons that made them so appealing. Very often, they did not say a word, and yet the reader got the message with a gentle nudge on his funny bone. Laxman’s humor was rarely acerbic, tickling rather than poking the ribs. Between the common man and the establishment, he clearly sided with the underdog. “Is the cartoonist a natural enemy of the establishment?” I had asked. He fumbled for words finally saying: “Not exactly…but a cartoonist naturally goes against the grain.”
FAMILY MAN
Laxman’s cockiness, which came from knowing that he was the best, was mistaken by many for vanity and arrogance. It wasn’t so. The man who many thought was aloof (he had a soundproof room to himself at The Times of India office in Mumbai) was actually the family’s “handy man” as his wife put it. He loved unwinding, doing the odd job at home, repairing a leaking tap, replacing a broken windowpane or adjusting the TV antennae. When he was around at home, the plumber or the mechanic had no business there. At home he did no cartooning, except the odd freelance work. Remember Gattu, the Asian Paint boy? His daily cartoons were the result of a strict regime from 9 am to 5 pm in the office, where the first half of the day went in reading various newspaper stories and headlines. In the second half, he crystallized his thoughts and put them to paper with the deft strokes of his brush. Even editors did not always have the temerity to knock or enter his room when he was working.
Though in the nineties cartoons had still not been banished from the front pages, I had asked him what he thought of “cartooning as a dying art”. His face betrayed anger at the impertinence of the question. Put to the doyen of Indian cartooning, it did sound irreverent. But soon the livid expression melted into a smile that revealed his buckteeth. And he guffawed: “…not as long as I’m alive”. But to young people, like me, he did not recommend cartooning as a profession. “Don’t!” he had said. It was Kamala who explained: “He thinks it’s a thankless job.” Raising a laugh was no laughing matter; I had tried it briefly too. How Laxman managed to regale people with his deft lines and witty humor day after day, year after year, will remain an enigma. True, towards the end of his career he had begun to lose that punch. But then, the sheer volume of his work was monumental. There are no parallels to his prolific genius.
Rarely has a man’s creation been more popular than the man himself, in this case, the Common Man – the ageing bespectacled man in his checked jacket. “Why does he look so helpless…Why doesn’t your Common Man get angry?” I had asked. For a moment, the master of punning looked helpless searching for a retort, then his expression turned angry and he blurted: “…With the Chautalas and Devi Lals around, what can he do?” (Those days, the National Front government was gripped by a crisis when Chautala was re-elected the chief minister of Haryana). He was clear; he blamed politicians for the sad plight of the common man. Then, calling back through the throng of autograph seekers he said: “You can quote me on that.” There was something impish and child-like about Laxman. Deep down, he strongly empathized with the common man. It was this empathy that had millions of readers looking at his cartoons the first thing before moving on to the day’s headlines.
A COMMON LIFE
Laxman’s inspiration was David Low, the famous British cartoonist. “He was the only cartoonist I was exposed to in my early childhood,” Laxman admitted. Low later visited him in Bombay. There were many, kings, queens and heads of states who sought him out.
But this nation’s conscience-keeper once learnt the hard way the perils of being a common man. His car had broken down on Marine Drive in Mumbai on his way back from office. For over an hour, he stood on the road with his thumbs up, pleading for a ride. Not a single car stopped. It was little consolation that the next day, all the newspapers in the city carried this story on their
front pages.
It is ironical that this celebrated cartoonist was at one time denied entry into the JJ School of Art for not having the “right” talent. That denial hurt him deeply. To young aspiring artists his advice was: “Don’t go to any art school; it kills your creativity.” He also encouraged them not to copy but develop their own style.
With his passing away an epoch has ended. The man who worked with The Times of India since 1948 for over five decades, leaves behind a humungous body of work that should be treated as a national heritage. The best tribute to this genius would be to bring back cartoons to our front pages. Rasipuram Krishnaswami Laxman is dead, long live the Common Man!
Ashim Choudhury is the author of “The Sergeant’s Son”

‘Schools and teachers are responsible for low self-esteem in kids’

Ashim Choudhury

2015-01-17 , Issue 3 Volume 12

Illustration: Mayanglambam Dinesh

I feel peeved every time a proud parent announces on Facebook, “My son/daughter scored 98 percent, thanks for your blessings.” Hell! If I had blessings, wouldn’t I shower them on my own children? Unlike my proud Facebook friends, my own children are not “bright”. Since early childhood, they have been struggling with their exams. Now, in Class VI, their exams appear like an insurmountable peak. I am as overwhelmed as they are by their Himalayan textbooks and homework. It’s not completely their fault. The twins were preterm babies, born in the seventh month. I have tried to drill that important piece of information into their teachers’ heads, but in vain. Every time we are summoned for PTMs (parent-teacher meetings), my wife goes weak in the knees.
“Your child is not keeping abreast of the class,” the teachers solemnly tell us. They are incredulous when I reply, “It’s fine, I’m not preparing them for any rat race.” After one such PTM, we had to sign an undertaking that said, “We will do our best to improve the child’s performance.” All this has been very taxing for us. But I feel bad for the children. The school and teachers, unwittingly, are responsible for children’s low self-esteem. At home, the kids are bubbling with life and have a great time with their friends. They feel like equals. In school, they are quiet and withdrawn. I am no psychoanalyst, but it appears that the school atmosphere depresses the children. Their confidence ebbs the moment they reach school.
There are times when I despair and vent my anger at them. I have even thought of myself as an unlucky parent. Why? Just because my darlings are not good at studies, does it mean they will not grow up to be responsible citizens and lead happy lives? Judging them by their marks, I am doing exactly what the teachers in school have been guilty of: killing their confidence. Lately, I have asked the teachers to concentrate on their strengths. It has boosted their confidence. The best part, the children have suddenly started looking forward to school.
A new teacher has also worked wonders for them. Unlike other teachers who constantly put the children down, Gayathri Parthasarathi pats them on the back for little tasks completed. She has befriended the kids and they admire her.
That brings me back to the basic issue. We should encourage children, pat them on the back once in a while. It works wonders. Looking back at my own childhood, I too recall being diffident. Maths made me lose confidence. But, when I consistently got good marks at essay writing, I always thought it was by fluke. Even my classmates thought so. One day, giving away corrected essay copies, the teacher announced, “Ashim Choudhury, six marks!” And she added in a caustic tone, “Where did you copy that essay from?” I was speechless. “No ma’am,” I stammered, “I… I didn’t copy!” She still gave me a dirty look. I was upset for a long time until a voice inside me said, ‘Buddy, you write well. That’s why the teacher thinks you have copied the essay!’ It was the first left-handed compliment I had received for my writing skills. I began to believe in myself.
Left to the teachers alone, perhaps, I would never have become a journalist or a writer (though still struggling to make a name). So, if you have children who are ‘below average’, please do not let their school or teachers put them down. Look for their strengths instead. Children need to enjoy their lives. A Facebook message doing the rounds comes to mind: I was dying to finish school and enter college… then dying to finish college and start working… then dying to marry and have children… then dying for them to grow up… then dying to retire… And now when I’m dying… I suddenly realise I never lived! At least, let the children live!

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(Published in Tehelka Magazine, Volume 12 Issue 3, Dated 17 January 2015)

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