LGBT rights and that curious Indian sense of outrage

The newspapers tell me that the Supreme Court of India has struck a blow against LGBT rights today. My meagre understanding of the situation is as follows: Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code criminalizes homosexuality. This is, of course a remnant from the Colonial era. This law was ruled unconstitutional by the Delhi High Court in (I believe) 2009. I am not sure whether that ruling de-criminalized homosexuality in the entire country or merely in the Delhi/New Delhi region - but it was an important milestone in the struggle for LGBT rights. Well, after that decision (much applauded by the LGBT community - still largely afraid to venture out of the closet), the Supreme Court was petitioned to overturn the verdict of the lower court - and here we are after four years or so - it has done just that. Now we are back to square one - being gay in India could send you to jail for upto 10 years.

Let me point out something of interest in this morass. India is (obviously) a country with several distinct religious groups - often at odds with one another. In fact, the leaders of different religions in India almost never agree on a single thing. Almost. The news reports that the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, the Apostolic Churches Alliance, the Jamat-e-Islaami Hind and the Delhi Sikh Gurdwara Management Committee have all spoken out against LGBT rights. Isn't it wonderful that we have finally found at least one thing to unite these religions and their disparate views? I get all misty eyed thinking of that happy future when Hindu, Muslim, Christian and Sikh will stand shoulder to shoulder whilst throwing stones at gay people in public squares. Repeat after me -  A united India is a strong India!

But why this idiocy? Why this throwback to antiquated laws? Let us try to drill down and provide an answer. No mincing  words about this - a small fraction of the population has always been gay/bisexual. And we have always had transgendered people among us. Travel along a long distance train anywhere in India (via 2nd class, of course) and at some point a bunch of transgendered panhandlers will get on. In India, we call them hijiras. They may entertain you with song - you may give them some alms - they move on. Or you could hold tight to your wallet and not make eye contact - at which point, they sense your discomfort and embarrass you into giving them more than you otherwise would have. This is one of the few ways by which an average Indian might encounter people of alternative sexuality.

Look - here is the thing - we Indians are always very cognizant of societal rights. Individual rights - well, not so much. Our Constitution has some rigorously defined freedoms and rights guaranteed to the individual. In practice, however, these rights are frequently trivialized. The group comes first. The person, afterward. Note that this is not without its benefits - very real and tangible ones. Indian families tend to be cohesive and seniors are respected and cared for (the fact that a disproportionate share of the effort involved in keeping such a family unit humming is borne by the women is for another post). However, this leads to a situation in which the pressure to conform is rather intense. Indians make good cogs in the machinery of the world - but we have produced somewhat less numbers of Einsteins and H.H Holmes. 

Sexual preferences stand at the very heart of personal freedoms. And regulating sexual behaviour is somehow part of the manifesto of every major religious organization. The old 'close your eyes and think of England' process works to create a strange sense of outrage when confronted with behaviour that veers from the norm. Outrage comes easily to Indians: anything that threatens the sanctity of "family", in fact anything that even slightly rocks the boat is easily demonized in our collective thoughts. From pointing fingers, it is but a short step to casting stones. Throw in a lifted pickup truck and the Stars 'n Bars and you are in Rush Limbaugh land. 

For being the people that gave the world the Kama Sutra, we Indians suffer from a strange kind of schizophrenia. For all this talk about gender equality and the many, many laws in place to protect women against dowry demands and so on - the fundamentals are somewhat misshapen. Why is our country so frequently in the news for horrific sexual crimes? Our gender ratio is horrifically lopsided. The only countries with even more skewed demographics are ones with populations far below one tenth that of India. And Pakistan. Pakistan is slightly worse off. Way to go, guys!

Facing the facts: our treatment of women is mostly awful. Yes, things change as you look toward the more prosperous, urban Indians - but we exchange ( a small amount of ) misogyny for (a great deal of ) truly perverse class snobbery. Our treatment of people of alternate sexuality  is appalling. We have worked hard to remove them from the societal mainstream. The recent judgment by the Supreme Court is a cop out - and act of cowardice. For the last couple of decades - people have been increasingly disillusioned with the lawmakers (recent developments like the AAP are of great interest - but time will tell..). The judicial system, especially the apex court has been a force for the public good. Ruling IPC/377 as constitutional just lobs the ball over to  the Parliament. The Supreme Court of India has shown that it bows to the wishes of a strident religious front. We don't really expect the Parliament to be any different. This is a sad day.

I am sorry Dave, I'm afraid you can't do that

So sez the magnet computer.

Thanksgiving travel

I flew in to Midway, as usual. Thanksgiving in the Midwest promised to be quite cold - except that San Antonio had been under a bit of a freeze for the last week so it didn't seem that big of a temperature drop. The rental agency gave me a a Buick Encore - which I believe is some kind of rebadged Opel. It is a dull, soporific compact SUV with its only saving grace being the short wheelbase and the somewhat responsive steering. The engine was anaemic and the transmission just plain lazy. I don't usually drive SUVs or trucks so the high seating position was new to me. Having said that, I simply do not understand why people keep continuing to buy these vehicles. I certainly felt like the high CG of the vehicle was making it unstable. Don't other people feel that way?

Anyway, I made it to Lafayette rather late - it was practically morning. The next day, we (the missus and meself) headed out to Ann Arbor, via Toledo. Nandi met us for lunch at Toledo. A good time was had. We got to AA by early evening. The kids (YS/YV) had us over for an old school Tamil dinner. YK and P were in attendance. It felt like happier old times.

I met the boss the next morning downtown. Showed the missus the diag, the M and a few of the sights of central campus. It was bloody ccccold. The line at Zingerman's deli stretched around the block and then some - this place is a veritable institution. We finally brunched at Angelo's - a good second choice, as it happens. The raisin bread is quite nice. 

Afterward, we went to Zingerman's shop on the outskirts of town. A reasonably well stocked bakery and an excellent creamery are side by side. The bakery yielded a chocolate covered goodie called a "rugelach". Which is not bad with tea. Is utterly unremarkable otherwise. The old Kathleen bakery at the corner of Padmashree/ No. 45 bus stop near home has better offerings. 

The next item we brought home (why?) was an espresso-something flavoured cake. When I was a kid, I had once bitten into a bar of Lifebouy brand bathing soap. Just out of curiosity. The cake was certainly better than that bar of soap. But not by very much. The cheese and salami collection at Zingy's though - is a thing to admire. Ann Arbor punches far above its weight class in things cultural and culinary. This is a good example.

The way back took us straight across the great state of Michigan (gawd, the roads!) - thankfully via the Interstate. We stopped at the big outlet mall near Michigan City - and found close to zero bargains. Not worth a visit - IMHO.

Anyway, here I am back in SA - and it is cold here too.

India's Mission to Mars

As I am writing this, a small unmanned craft called "Mangalyaan" is slicing its way through a highly elliptical orbit around Earth. This name: Mangalyaan - it translates to "Mars vehicle"... for the red planet is where it is headed.

The Indian Space Research Organization or ISRO is a somewhat malnourished scientific bureaucracy. It has been around for over 4 decades - which says something about the national leadership which wished it into existence. For obviously, a nation like India, bottom heavy with poverty, with food security still not a reality - there is always a question of priorities. And somehow, the national debate AND the international commentary cannot finish two sentences without mentioning the hundreds of millions of underfed children. 

Let us talk some numbers, shall we? The Mars project has a price tag of 75 million $, give or take. The NREGA (which is a rural employment social services project) will cost the Indian taxpayer about 6.6 billion $. So in terms of absolute expenditure,  this endeavour is more or less a drop in the bucket.

So what do we get for our money?

The development of some tech. People and governments tend to hoard knowledge and capabilities. It is probably worth noting that the most enthusiastic hoarders are almost never people who have had a hand in developing that knowledge - but are somehow custodians of the fruits of this knowledge. 

Since most national leaderships tend to be hoarders, it makes good sense for all nations to develop their capabilities. Sure - it is great when people share... but what is they don't? And what if, even worse - you end up growing used to the benefits of someone else's wisdom and labour - and then one day the mat gets pulled out from under your feet. The sudden realization that you are nothing more than a client state without anything to offer or sell is going to hurt. So, India needs space tech. But what are we eventually going to do with it?

Sci-fi scenarios aside, we are limited to chemical rockets and rather pedestrian Newtonian velocities. But lookee here - the asteroid belt has unimaginable gigatonnes of metals just floating around. The rings of Saturn have more water than all the oceans of Earth. And lurking out there in the Oort cloud are comets, some of which are probably made of CHON. That means food.

If we can imagine these things - the day will come when we can harvest these riches. But baby steps at first. Mangalyaan is a tiny baby step. But a necessary one.

A Tiered License System - a modest proposal to improve everyone's driving experience

I imagine that other people have come up with similar if not the same suggestion before, but here is my version of what a tiered drivers' license system would look like and how it might benefit us all:

1. A basic license, issued much as it is today - which allows you to drive economy & compact class cars.
2. Tradespeople, farmers and anyone who hauls cargo can apply for and obtain a truck license which allows you to operate, say an F150. The test for this should be stricter than the basic license.
3. If you wish to drive a vehicle with a larger footprint, such as an SUV or a minivan, that will need its own class of license. Obviously, you must demonstrate that you have the situational awareness to not back into your neighbour's poodle - without benefit of such nice things like a backup-cam. Also, that you are aware that if you are driving, say an Escalade, you should behave that much nicer on the road - the sheer mass of that behemoth can and will crumple many econoboxes like so many cans of Pepsi.
4. And finally, in the words of Jeremy Clarkson, you need "MOAR POWEEEEEER". Splendid. That will be a different tier of license - one that you are allowed to take only if you have driven compacts for two years or longer without any poodle murders. Vehicles in this category can be classified by a hp/kg or hp only metric. You cannot buy into this license because you can afford to. It will also be very easy to lose this license for bad driving. As they say in the comic books, "with great horsepower comes great responsibility".. well, something like that.

One attendant benefit of having this system (apart from the obvious ones) is that the line of qualified customers for high powered vehicles will shrink. Automakers will be forced to make smaller cars more fun. High displacement engines (which I am not against, by the way) will be in the hands of those who can and will use them safely. And tax revenues will increase.

There is something icky in the crystal screen

A civilization on the drop growing and maturing into enlightenment. Only to be vaporized by high-intensity X-radiation. For them, it will be cataclysmic. Perhaps they might evolve haiku before the end.

An acceptable cup of tea

Tea is a wildly divisive beverage. The reason, of course is that it is very, very, differentiated. Which, of course, makes it easy to be a tea snob. These people are worse, much worse than coffee snobs. (Beer snobs generally tend to be ok people, mostly on account of the snobbery being thoroughly defenestrated by the fifth pint. Wine snobs, ah, wine snobs deserve to be beaten to within an inch of their sorry lives, revived with a mouthful of Franzia, patched and Band-Aid-ed up and then beaten again. Rinse and repeat. These sods come up with expressions like "the slight hint of a smoky flavour as you might imagine emanating from the ruins of Atlanta after Willie Sherman was done tearing the Confederacy a new one". I tell you, Purgatory ain't good enough for wine snobs)

Anyhoo, back to tea. Where does it grow? India, China and Sri Lanka. Some other places. They don't matter. Tea can be black, green and sometimes a few other things. I don't claim to understand green tea. I have drunk it. Contrary to expectations, it did not confer any special powers like GrandMaster level Karate skills. There was some flavour, but I'll be damned if I can remember what it was. So much for green tea. As for the other, lesser types, if you like them, you might as well save yourself some trouble and make a random infusion from your potpourri bowl, or perhaps, cuttings from your hedge and spice it up with hair from the  neighbour's dog. I have nothing more to say to you. Go, drive your crossover to Whole-Joe's and buy some Kashi.

Soo, black tea. This can be drunk without milk. The only permitted additives are honey and a dash of lemon. Tea prepared thus should be drunk out of dainty bone-china cups. Said cups should be engraved with the family escutcheon. Heraldry might be involved. A plate of delicious crumpets and hideous digestive biscuits may make an appearance. Cucumber sandwiches might also be in evidence. Btw, for my American audience, what you call a "cookie" is a "biscuit". What you call a "biscuit" has no reason to exist. In fact, country buffets(the usual home for your "biscuits") have no reason to exist. Such tea should be served by wimmenfolk protected from the pitiless sun in the subcontinent by parasols. After tea, there will be another innings to play, so one should not overindulge, especially if one is next down to bat. 

Yes, it is possible to make a whole religion out of tea drinking. It shapes the national character; was probably drunk during Trafalgar and Jutland. But what exactly was drunk? Was it the finest first pickings from the best Darjeeling Makaibari estates? Or was it a large-leaf Assam? See, here lies the rub. The tonnage of Darjeeling sold outside India every year exceeds the actual tonnage of Darjeeling produced. So much for authenticity. This is a product as heavily counterfeited as, say, olive oil (counterfeiting which, you may not be aware is so profitable, that the Cosa Nostra has gotten into it. In fact, has been involved for generations.) And that is why most tea snobs are blowing smoke out of their collective arse. But what, then, is an honest bloke supposed to do?

Well, you might drink chai.  You start our with a pedestrian blend of teas. We, well,  actually the paterfamilias potters down to the neighbourhood tea store. A good fifteen minutes of polite enquiries about everyone's health is exchanged. There might be some banter about the latest from Writers's Building (that would be the State Govt.) and views might be exchanged about the national cricket team. Then the shop owner bloke knocks the lid off a tiny hatch set into the side of these large-ish ply boxes. Each box comes from a different estate. Several such boxes might be tapped. Each yields up perhaps 200 gms of treasure. There will be commentary on flavour. A pot will prolly be brewed. Much wise head-nodding. And finally, a blend will emerge!

Finally, some of this blend wings its way across the wurlde to yours truly. And so we find ourselves with a saucepan of boiling water before us. Toss in a couple of cloves. Crushed, if possible. Is there any cardomom handy? Black cardomom? Shite, you must be rich! Well, strip it, toss in the seeds. Crush and toss in the shell as well. Powdered cinnamon? Yes, please. It also helps to have dried ginger flakes ziplocked away. Throw in some. And then, wait for this, a tiny, and I mean tiny, pinch of red pepper. Is it still boiling? Is the aroma beginning to acquire a whole personality? Alright then, time to add sugar. Wait half a minute, in goes the tea. Let it boil for another minute. When the whole concoction decides to Vesuvius out of the saucepan and into your life, calm it down with cold milk. Obviously, the amount of tea and milk is left entirely to taste. This takes a while to optimize. Now here comes the crucial part. Do not let the milk boil. Remove the saucepan before it comes to boil. Strain and serve.

Why don't people write decent thrillers anymore?

The ranks of writers of military thrillers has been somewhat desolate this last two decades or so. Ever since the great Alistair Maclean departed to the great beyond, presumably contemplating the Stygian blackness with a large tot of Bushmills', there has been nary a man to take his exalted place. 

We desis' have always had a soft corner for Maclean. And indeed, why not? He was of the old guard, his heroes were brave men of honour, there were few, if any femme fatales in his books, the villains were usually the elements and then the always well regarded Germans (in that order, mostly) and he was as English as only a Scotsman could be. What I am trying to get at, my dear reader - is that Maclean wrote the most wholesome books that one could write - if one's topic was depth charging an U-boat, or dive bombing Stukas or blowing destroyers out of the Agean Sea. His protagonists could be, and frequently were defeated by a respectable enemy - and his men have always been distinguished by tenacity and loyalty to their comrades, not to some flag. Their actions have been tempered by mercy to brave enemies ..- born not of expediency, but of common decency.

Sadly, such writing now seems passe. The time for fairly straightforward war/adventure novels appears to be gone. The likes of Desmond Bageley and Hammond Innes are nowhere to be seen. The protagonists of their novels were somehow more nuanced, more real and displayed very little of the zealot-like xenophobia which pervades, say, a Clancy novel. And of course, the new generation of techno-thriller writers are more like Tom Clancy. The only decent book this man has ever written is his first one, 'The Hunt for the Red October'. Everything else comes across as meticulously researched, immensely detailed bilge. For all the effort he puts into describing an underwater sonar array, he then lets himself down by the fairly one dimensional characters that inhabit his world. The good guys are always correct, righteous and moral. The bad guys may be blessed with some technical skill, and sometimes strong beliefs, but their faith is always in false gods. Clancy's novels, at their very core, are plotted with wondrous complexity, but are ultimately simplemindedly jingoistic.

Another entrant into this fold is our good Patrick Robinson. He writes techno-thrillers. Much of his writing is good, old fashioned acronym masturbation (what; you didn't know what "SOSUS" stands for?) His leading men are all cartoonishly heroic, none of them suffers the slightest bit of self doubt. Introspection is not a quality much valued in his universe.I have recently had the misfortune to read one of his thrillers: Scimitar SL2, it is called. What was rather surprising is that the plot revolves around a giant tsunami - generated by a volcano-quake. Now this book was published in mid 2004, months before the Indian Ocean tsunami that caused such horrific loss of life. Did this fellow grab a hold of a crystal ball?

Secondly, Mr. Robinson, an F15 is not a Tomcat. Ask the US Navy. They know. Thirdly, as the fulcrum of the plot is the ability of the USAF to switch off the GPS system, have you ever heard about the GLONASS system? I believe it was operational in 2004. And finally, the Hummer H2, which you describe as GM's masterpiece. I understand that you might be a fanboy. Nothing wrong about it(actually, there is... but I'll let that slide). Yes, the H2 is based on a civvy platform. Doesn't share much with the milspec Humvee. So there. GM's masterpiece indeed! FYI, that would be the Corvette.