Just finishing this book by Edward Luce. The full title is ‘In Spite Of The Gods: The strange rise of modern India’ and it is by some distance the best book about India’s recent history (from Independence in 1947 to 2006, when the book was published) that I’ve ever read.

Why?
Personally, I find most books written about India by non-Indians fall into one of the two categories: 1) the “Oh, Mystic-India, oh-so-spiritual” hippy kind and 2) the “India-must-do-better, filth-and-poverty” proscriptive kind.
To a half-Indian who grew up in India, both seem quite patronising if not downright condescending, even though they may make some genuine points.
The books Indians write about themselves are often no better; you find a puzzling disconnect with the real world beyond their borders, and an overblown estimation of their own worth that seems to stem from their belief in Ancient India’s achievements (similar to modern Greeks, I find).
Edward Luce’s book stands apart from these. He is clearly an India-phile, but doesn’t restrain from criticism where due. Scathing in parts, cajoling in others, he wants to see India do well, and he really seems to know his stuff. As well as having amassed an amazing number of interviews with top leaders, he has also put in a substantial amount of travelling and sight-seeing in the 5 years he spent in India.
The chapters of the book are arranged in an order that seems incoherent at first glance, judging solely by the titles. But in fact they knit together so well in the telling of the story of India. There is quite a lot of emphasis on the economics; it is a “big picture” book, which is not surprising given Mr. Luce’s background as a Financial Times’s Bureau Chief of South Asia at the time of writing.
A must-read for anyone trying to get a grip on the history, politics and economics of modern India.

Finally getting the chance to upload this little post about a film I saw at The Cornerhouse the other day (Sat the 6th of Oct) with the Film Meetup Group, although there was very little of the ‘group’ about them.
‘Untouchable’ (French: Intouchables) is a film about the relationship that develops between a French billionaire wheelchair-bound quadriplegic and a Senegalese from the Parisian projects who becomes his handyman, and later, friend.
The billionaire’s role is played by Francois Cluzet, and the handyman’s by Omar Sy. Both bring something special to the role; it is the genuine warmth and delightful interplay between the two characters that really makes this film work, because the script itself doesn’t wander too far from the predictable. Described as a comedy, I found it was much more than that, a truly multi-dimensional film. Would I recommend you see it? Go now.
One thing that bothered me was learning that the original person on whom the Senegalese character is based (since this is a true-life story) is actually Algerian; did the producers think a Senegalese would play better to the audiences than an Algerian? And is that judgement reflective of current French attitudes? Or is there simply a dearth of talented Algerian actors in France?

I’ve seen the film ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ described as a “romantic sci-fi drama”. That displays an astounding ignorance about what sci-fi (SCIENCE-fiction) means: “A man with a GENETIC condition that causes him to SUDDENLY DISAPPEAR into the near future or past…” is not a premise based on any remotely plausible concept of science and therefore is not a sci-fi story.
What it is, is a ‘Deus ex machina’ cop-out tool used by an incompetent thinker. To be fair, if the author didn’t call it sci-fi themselves, then it’s not their fault. I guess it’s more likely the lazy book reviewers that are to blame.
Leave the science out of it, call it plain and simple fiction. Mentioning ‘genes’ or ‘time-travel’ does not make it sci-fi.

होठों पे सच्चाई रहती है
जहाँ दिल में सफ़ाई रहती है
हम उस देश के वासी हैं, हम उस देश के वासी हैं
जिस देश में गंगा बहती है

मेहमां जो हमारा होता है
वो जान से प्यारा होता है
ज़्यादा की नहीं लालच हमको
थोड़े मे गुज़ारा होता है
थोड़े मे गुज़ारा होता है
बच्चों के लिये जो धरती माँ
सदियों से सभी कुछ सहती है
हम उस देश के वासी हैं,
हम उस देश के वासी हैं
जिस देश में गंगा बहती है

कुछ लोग जो ज़्यादा जानते हैं
इन्सान को कम पहचानते हैं
ये पूरब है पूरबवाले
हर जान की कीमत जानते हैं
हर जान की कीमत जानते हैं
मिल जुल के रहो और प्यार करो
एक चीज़ यही जो रहती है
हम उस देश के वासी हैं,
हम उस देश के वासी हैं
जिस देश में गंगा बहती है
होठों पे सच्चाई रहती है…

जो जिससे मिला सिखा हमने
गैरों को भी अपनाया हमने
मतलब के लिये अन्धे होकर
रोटी को नही पूजा हमने
रोटी को नही पूजा हमने
अब हम तो क्या सारी दुनिया
सारी दुनिया से कहती है
हम उस देश के वासी हैं,
हम उस देश के वासी हैं
जिस देश में गंगा बहती है

होठों पे सच्चाई रहती है
जहां दिल में सफ़ाई रहती है
हम उस देश के वासी हैं,
हम उस देश के वासी हैं
जिस देश में गंगा बहती है

Happy Independence Day to all!

This is a U.S. company currently employing in the UK; I’ve been given to understand that across the pond the practice of scanning a potential employee’s social media is accepted, but never seen such provisions in the Data Privacy terms in the UK before.

These terms were obviously meant to be agreed to before applying. The highlighting is my own.

4. I authorize XXX and its authorized agents to collect and receive information relating to or concerning me (“Personal Information”) for the purposes of assessing my suitability for employment, and verifying the information provided by me in the course of the application for employment with XXX.

5. For the purposes referred to above, I authorize XXX and its authorized agents to collect and receive Personal Information that may include, for example, information obtained directly from me in this application and supporting materials including my resume, information obtained through any interview conducted by XXX, reference information provided by me and verified by XXX, and in some cases, reference information obtained about me from other sources generally in the community.

6. For the purposes referred to above, I further authorize XXX and its authorized agents to collect and receive Personal Information from any or all of the following sources worldwide: international, national, provincial or municipal law enforcement or security agencies, police services, licensing bodies, all government ministries or regulatory agencies, banks, trust companies, brokerage houses, credit bureaus, professional or industry associations or regulators, universities, colleges and other educational certificate granting institutions, former or current employers, publicly available social networking websites, and any other source reasonably related to verifying the information I provided and assessing my suitability for employment.

It’s necessary to add this only if you expect to be discriminating on the basis of what a potential employee has posted via their social media.

Carol Ann Duffy puts into words how I feel about my friends travelling.

Away and see

Away and see an ocean suck at a boiled sun
and say to someone things I’d blush even to dream.
Slip off your dress in a high room over the harbour.
Write to me soon.

New fruits sing on the flipside of night in a market
of language, light, a tune from the chapel nearby
stopping you dead, the peach in your palm respiring.
Taste it for me.

Away and see the things that words give a name to, the flight
of syllables, wingspan stretching a noun. Test words
wherever they live; listen and touch, smell, believe.
Spell them with love.

Skedaddle. Somebody chaps at the door at a year’s end, hopeful.
Away and see who it is. Let in the new, the vivid,
horror and pity, passion, the stranger holding the future.
Ask him his name.

Nothing’s the same as anything else. Away and see
for yourself. Walk. Fly. Take a boat till land reappears,
altered forever, ringing its bells, alive. Go on. G’on. Gon.
Away and see.

Anyone who hasn’t heard me rant about this film already must take heed now.

Go see the French film ‘Polisse’, a tough documentary-style peek into the work and lives of officers of the Paris Child Protection Unit (BPM-Brigade de Protection des Mineurs)

The dialogue just crackles, the characters are superbly portrayed, the shots are gritty and real, the story just drags you around from one scene to the next.

Tremendously exhilarating and I’m glad to see movies like this being made (and shown; thanks to the Cornerhouse).

And thanks to x for getting the tickets and suggesting it in the first place.

Whenever I see flags (ie. at football matches) I’m reminded of those pennants flying at Ye Tourneys and Ye Jousts of Ye Olde Middle Ages. 

Clearly there was some complex code in the fluttering banners that flew above standing armies as well, containing significant information about who was on the field, and what they stood for.

Could anyone from a different time, for example, watch a football match today and decipher that flags are used not only to identify the opposing teams/nations, but also their host nation(s), their clothes and drinks providers (often the same provider for both teams; treacherous bastards!), their favourite airline, their chosen tool for shaving, their preferred method of viewing entertainment, their brand of nappy.

I wonder if it was the same in Ye Olde Middle Ages. And, of course, it was. Knights required huge incomes just to support the stables and armour they needed to chivalrously pillage.

There have always been sponsors who will give money/resources to gain a ‘recognition-by-association’.

But I am also reminded of the Barcelona football kit emblazoned with the ‘Unicef’ logo; not meaning they’re sponsored, but rather the opposite; that Barcelona FC contributes to a worthy cause.

…or ‘Why Differentiation Doesn’t Always Work’.

There is a fast-food shop on Oxford Road in Manchester that sells the type of takeaway fare instantly recognisable by countless drunken students across the UK and Europe.

However, even though it is located right on this major thoroughfare, recent unofficial polls by me suggested nobody knew it was a fast-food shop. Even though the people questioned habitually walk past the shop and indeed have done so with me on many an occasion.
When pressed, they variously replied that they thought it was a gift card shop, a milk shake vendor, etc.

Why?

Because the owner has painted his shop pink in the manner of a burger joint from ’50s-era Americana. One can only imagine the lost trade due to this unfathomable mistake.

Yes, we may laugh at unimaginative “Mario Pizza”, “Italia Ciao” or “Pizza Bella” (all genuine businesses round my area) shop names but these are names expected by the customers and it clearly doesn’t pay to deviate from the trodden path in this circumstance.

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

-William Ernest Henley