In the mid-1990s, Japan funded and provided technology for a new bridge across the Yamuna in Delhi. At that time even minor repairs on the old Yamuna bridges would carry on for decades (seriously). Therefore it came as a shock to us Delhi-wallahs when we saw this bridge being built in a matter of months, sometimes even at night under spotlights, with every worker wearing a bright yellow hardhat. It was the talk of the town. Somehow the pace of road/bridge/flyover/metro construction in Delhi was never the same again. Today, our city's public works proceed almost at the pace at which they do elsewhere in the world.
A few years later, in the early 2000s, I noticed the local FM radio stations taking up specific local issues and demanding accountability from the government. For example, they would talk about a big pothole on such and such road and then report back a few days later that it had been filled. (I immediately invested in the Indian stockmarket, with good results!) That activism on radio appears to have subsided but it left its mark. Delhi's roads are by and large of better quality than, say, Boston's.
Yesterday I had another experience that appears significant. I had to get my Delhi driving license renewed and went to the Regional Transport Office at Surajmal Vihar. Though the place was moderately crowded, the experience was smoother than that at most private sector institutions.
The man at the Enquiry counter directed me to Counter #4 ("Renewals"). I stood in the queue and got to the counter in a few minutes. The guy looked at my papers, smiled and said, "We don't need so many documents for residence proof, just one will do. Just get it verified from Counter #11."
The Counter #11 guy spent just about 30 seconds on my document and signed the copy. He directed me back to Counter #4.
The #4 guy now entered my data into the computer. There were two computer screens, one facing him and one facing me. He asked me to verify the details when he was done. Then he stamped my paperwork, asked me to sign and said, "Pay the fees". Used to Indian government offices, I thought the cashier would be sitting somewhere far away behind a wire grill, acting like some demi-god. I was pleasantly surprised to find instead that the cashier was the Counter #3, which was essentially three feet to the left of where I stood and looked identical to every other counter.
A few minutes in the queue later, I was in front of the Counter #3 guy. He glanced at my documents; "Rs 300".
While I counted out the money, he pulled up my case on the computer and at once my receipt began to print out in front of the guy next to him. He asked me to step in front of this other guy, who motioned me to sit on a stool I had not noticed till then, clicked a photograph via webcam, asked me to step up and sign an electronic pad and then offer my index finger for a fingerprint. All in a minute.
And then it was done. "The license will be couriered to you." I could not believe it - the entire process had taken just ten or fifteen minutes and had been pleasant. Every RTO employee was fully occupied and productive. In the US it typically takes much longer and even the productivity appears to be lower.
This automation of processes in government departments yields fewer opportunities for bribery. A friend noted yesterday that some folks who work there try to squeeze out some money by being slow to return the change when you give them a currency note and hoping that you will just walk away. Bad, true, but a big improvement!
Kudos to the Delhi transport minister for running such a smooth operation. If such cleansing spreads outwards from Delhi and the metros, it will be a big reason to be bullish on India.
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Sunday, February 21, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Of MBAs and poetry
You've heard this from me before - Indian companies dislike the way many fresh MBAs believe they are God's gift to mankind! They are flighty, avoid real work, and want 'career growth' handed to them on a platter in their very first month of employment. They are easily bored and change jobs at the slightest opportunity.
This leads me to quote from a wonderful poetic retelling by Vikram Seth of the immortal tale of The Hare and the Tortoise (Beastly Tales from Here & There, Penguin). Instead of running the race, the socialite hare is easily distracted:
"Boring, boring, life is boring.
Birdies, help me go exploring.
Let's go off the beaten track.
In a minute I'll be back -"
Off the hare went, fancy-free.
One hour pased, then two, then three.
Expectedly, the tortoise wins the race.
After the announcer's gun
Had pronounced that he had won,
And the cheering of the crowd
Died at last, the tortoise bowed,
Clasped the cup with quiet pride,
And sat down, self-satisfied.
And he though: "That silly hare!
So much for her charm and flair.
So much for her idle boast.
In her cup I'll raise a toast
To hard work and regularity.
Silly creature! Such vulgarity!
Now she'll learn that sure and slow
Is the only way to go -
That you can't rise to the top
With a skip, a jump, a hop -
That you've got to hatch your eggs,
That you've got to count your legs,
That you've got to do your duty,
Not depend on verve and beauty."
Nice words! MBA students, are you listening?
(Now there is a twist at the end of this particular version of the tale, but I'll let you read it for yourself. Smile.)
**************************************
Incidentally, while I'm reading this tiny book of poems, I'm also reading A Suitable Boy by the same author, 1500 pages and yet a page-turner. It is a tour de force. The then Stanford University President, Gerhard Casper, had recommended this epic while welcoming us to the campus as international students, but it's taken my 17 years to get to it.
Another tangential comment - while many budding poets ruin their poetry by forcing it to rhyme, I'm simply blown away by Vikram Seth's best rhymes (The Golden Gate, for example) and even more so by Pushkin's verse (Eugene Onegin) and of course Shakespeare's sonnets.
This leads me to quote from a wonderful poetic retelling by Vikram Seth of the immortal tale of The Hare and the Tortoise (Beastly Tales from Here & There, Penguin). Instead of running the race, the socialite hare is easily distracted:
"Boring, boring, life is boring.
Birdies, help me go exploring.
Let's go off the beaten track.
In a minute I'll be back -"
Off the hare went, fancy-free.
One hour pased, then two, then three.
Expectedly, the tortoise wins the race.
After the announcer's gun
Had pronounced that he had won,
And the cheering of the crowd
Died at last, the tortoise bowed,
Clasped the cup with quiet pride,
And sat down, self-satisfied.
And he though: "That silly hare!
So much for her charm and flair.
So much for her idle boast.
In her cup I'll raise a toast
To hard work and regularity.
Silly creature! Such vulgarity!
Now she'll learn that sure and slow
Is the only way to go -
That you can't rise to the top
With a skip, a jump, a hop -
That you've got to hatch your eggs,
That you've got to count your legs,
That you've got to do your duty,
Not depend on verve and beauty."
Nice words! MBA students, are you listening?
(Now there is a twist at the end of this particular version of the tale, but I'll let you read it for yourself. Smile.)
**************************************
Incidentally, while I'm reading this tiny book of poems, I'm also reading A Suitable Boy by the same author, 1500 pages and yet a page-turner. It is a tour de force. The then Stanford University President, Gerhard Casper, had recommended this epic while welcoming us to the campus as international students, but it's taken my 17 years to get to it.
Another tangential comment - while many budding poets ruin their poetry by forcing it to rhyme, I'm simply blown away by Vikram Seth's best rhymes (The Golden Gate, for example) and even more so by Pushkin's verse (Eugene Onegin) and of course Shakespeare's sonnets.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Capitalizing Compulsively
Why do we Indians capitalize every other word in business documents? And why does it unsettle me?
Whenever I look at a resume, a draft proposal or a presentation, I feel like taking a red pen and crossing out all the unnecessarily capitalized words!
It is entirely appropriate to write "I hold a B.E. degree in Software Engineering and am an expert in user interface design". 'Software Engineering' was probably the exact title of the degree and so may be capitalized.
But if you write "I hold a B.E. Degree in Software Engineering and am an Expert in User Interface Design", then you are going too far. Too much unnecessary capitalization.
You may argue that 'User Interface' is a standard term (abbreviated as UI) and its design is a formal area of knowledge, hence the words may be capitalized.
But I see it as a slippery slope. The modern world is littered with many formal areas of knowledge, some here to stay and some just passing fads, some established and some controversial, some broadly popular and some niche. To capitalize them all would render documents ugly and unreadable.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
So I try to resist capitalization of mere areas of knowledge.
Therefore, I would not like to see on a general resume that the candidate is "an expert in Supply Chain". Or "an expert in Operations Management". Or "an expert in Human Resource Management" even. (And definitely not "an Expert" of any sort!)
In a few select cases, capitalization is more permissible since the words now mean something highly specific, something quite different from their general meaning. So, for example, 'I am an expert in Enterprise Resource Planning' is somewhat acceptable. Saying you are an expert 'in Supply Chain Management' or 'in Quality Assurance' is borderline tolerable.
Still I would suggest: err on the side of caution.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Capitalization is totally acceptable only where we are referring to the name of a formal department (e.g. the 'User Interface Group') or a formal job title (e.g. 'User Interface Designer') or a course (e.g. 'ME210: Heat Transfer') or a universally accepted software category (e.g. 'Customer Relationship Management software') or something similar. Otherwise it is typically best avoided.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Now, why does excessive capitalization bother me?
1. Reasons of effectiveness:
Every time you capitalize a word, you draw the reader's attention to that single word, pulling it away from an orderly perusal of the text. Is that single word where you want the reader's attention to go? Mostly not.
2. Reasons of aesthetics:
Too much capitalization strewn about the page makes the document look cluttered and ugly.
3. Reasons of presumption:
By capitalizing a general word or phrase referring to a body of knowledge, you are arrogantly proclaiming that it is a formal, well accepted area. As a reader, I may not know about it, or as an educated reader, I may not agree with the importance you are giving it. Therefore you have to be careful. E.g. a phrase such as 'Communication-Driven Decision Support' should be capitalized (if at all) only where the specific audience will certainly understand what exactly is being referred to. Normally never.
4. 'Slippery slope' reasons:
Once you start capitalizing, it's difficult to stop. Consider the following paragraph:
"In the past ten years, there has been an increasing focus on using information technology to address various supply chain areas, including supply chain management, supply chain optimization, supply chain execution and supply chain event management. Supply chain management guru Dr. XYZ says that increasingly forecasting, replenishment, and warehouse management are also coming under the scope of supply chain IT."
Suppose you allowed the use of capitalization for 'Supply Chain Management'. There would then be a tendency to capitalize 'Supply Chain Optimization' as well. And so on. Soon, the paragraph would look like this:
"In the past ten years, there has been an increasing focus on using Information Technology to address various Supply Chain areas, including Supply Chain Management, Supply Chain Optimization, Supply Chain Execution and Supply Chain Event Management. Supply Chain Management guru Dr. XYZ says that increasingly Forecasting, Replenishment, and Warehouse Management are also coming under the scope of Supply Chain IT."
You see now what I mean when I say it is a slippery slope?
5. Reasons of inconsistency:
Most people who capitalize freely are also poor at maintaining consistency. Therefore they may sometimes refer to 'Human Resource Management' and sometimes to 'Human Resource management'. This inconsistent capitalization is painful. At the same time, if you aim to be highly consistent in capitalization, you waste a lot of your time thinking about how to avoid situations like the slippery slope example in the previous point.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The way out is simple - avoid capitalization where possible. Resist.
Specifically, capitalize the names of knowledge areas only if you are referring in fact to the names of courses, departments, job titles or something similarly formal and permanent. Otherwise, think again.
Whenever I look at a resume, a draft proposal or a presentation, I feel like taking a red pen and crossing out all the unnecessarily capitalized words!
It is entirely appropriate to write "I hold a B.E. degree in Software Engineering and am an expert in user interface design". 'Software Engineering' was probably the exact title of the degree and so may be capitalized.
But if you write "I hold a B.E. Degree in Software Engineering and am an Expert in User Interface Design", then you are going too far. Too much unnecessary capitalization.
You may argue that 'User Interface' is a standard term (abbreviated as UI) and its design is a formal area of knowledge, hence the words may be capitalized.
But I see it as a slippery slope. The modern world is littered with many formal areas of knowledge, some here to stay and some just passing fads, some established and some controversial, some broadly popular and some niche. To capitalize them all would render documents ugly and unreadable.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
So I try to resist capitalization of mere areas of knowledge.
Therefore, I would not like to see on a general resume that the candidate is "an expert in Supply Chain". Or "an expert in Operations Management". Or "an expert in Human Resource Management" even. (And definitely not "an Expert" of any sort!)
In a few select cases, capitalization is more permissible since the words now mean something highly specific, something quite different from their general meaning. So, for example, 'I am an expert in Enterprise Resource Planning' is somewhat acceptable. Saying you are an expert 'in Supply Chain Management' or 'in Quality Assurance' is borderline tolerable.
Still I would suggest: err on the side of caution.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Capitalization is totally acceptable only where we are referring to the name of a formal department (e.g. the 'User Interface Group') or a formal job title (e.g. 'User Interface Designer') or a course (e.g. 'ME210: Heat Transfer') or a universally accepted software category (e.g. 'Customer Relationship Management software') or something similar. Otherwise it is typically best avoided.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Now, why does excessive capitalization bother me?
1. Reasons of effectiveness:
Every time you capitalize a word, you draw the reader's attention to that single word, pulling it away from an orderly perusal of the text. Is that single word where you want the reader's attention to go? Mostly not.
2. Reasons of aesthetics:
Too much capitalization strewn about the page makes the document look cluttered and ugly.
3. Reasons of presumption:
By capitalizing a general word or phrase referring to a body of knowledge, you are arrogantly proclaiming that it is a formal, well accepted area. As a reader, I may not know about it, or as an educated reader, I may not agree with the importance you are giving it. Therefore you have to be careful. E.g. a phrase such as 'Communication-Driven Decision Support' should be capitalized (if at all) only where the specific audience will certainly understand what exactly is being referred to. Normally never.
4. 'Slippery slope' reasons:
Once you start capitalizing, it's difficult to stop. Consider the following paragraph:
"In the past ten years, there has been an increasing focus on using information technology to address various supply chain areas, including supply chain management, supply chain optimization, supply chain execution and supply chain event management. Supply chain management guru Dr. XYZ says that increasingly forecasting, replenishment, and warehouse management are also coming under the scope of supply chain IT."
Suppose you allowed the use of capitalization for 'Supply Chain Management'. There would then be a tendency to capitalize 'Supply Chain Optimization' as well. And so on. Soon, the paragraph would look like this:
"In the past ten years, there has been an increasing focus on using Information Technology to address various Supply Chain areas, including Supply Chain Management, Supply Chain Optimization, Supply Chain Execution and Supply Chain Event Management. Supply Chain Management guru Dr. XYZ says that increasingly Forecasting, Replenishment, and Warehouse Management are also coming under the scope of Supply Chain IT."
You see now what I mean when I say it is a slippery slope?
5. Reasons of inconsistency:
Most people who capitalize freely are also poor at maintaining consistency. Therefore they may sometimes refer to 'Human Resource Management' and sometimes to 'Human Resource management'. This inconsistent capitalization is painful. At the same time, if you aim to be highly consistent in capitalization, you waste a lot of your time thinking about how to avoid situations like the slippery slope example in the previous point.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The way out is simple - avoid capitalization where possible. Resist.
Specifically, capitalize the names of knowledge areas only if you are referring in fact to the names of courses, departments, job titles or something similarly formal and permanent. Otherwise, think again.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Toyota's travails
You must have heard about Toyota's quality travails in the US over defective interiors. In fact I was a little intrigued why this purdafaash took so long.
I must admit I feel this way solely from personal experience - I used to drive a Toyota Camry in the US and had all sorts of niggling problems. Yes, something about the accelerator pedal would make me worry that the it would stick under the floor mat (I used to pull back the floor mat before driving); the sticky accelerator was the problem that finally did Toyota in. But there were also other issues with the interiors. The center console storage had a cover whose hinges gave way. The sun visor on the driver's side had a plastic flip cover over the vanity mirror whose hinges grew, er, plasticky and then gave way - twice!
The core of the car was simply perfect, but the plastics seemed very badly put together. I never had such problems even with my Santro in India.
The state of the Camry's interior seemed so much at variance with the mantra we learned in our manufacturing classes about Toyota quality. I thought it may have been a result of the Americanization of the production for the US market. But it now seems it was at least a little because of a slightly pompous "we know best" mindset back at Toyota's Japan HQ.
Perhaps they were out driving Lexuses! (http://manasblog.proton.in/2009/09/eat-your-own-dog-food.html )
Quality translates directly into repeat business. I had - at another time - a VW New Beetle, which had the recurring problem of fused headlamps, and I knew a friend who had to return his VW Jetta under the US's "Lemon Law". So I would not easily buy a VW in India. And my sisters and I each had Honda Civics at some point or other which never gave us any trouble at all, so I bought a Civic in India as well. Also, when I had to trust my safety to a motorcycle on relatively fast US highways, I felt most confident on a machine made by Honda.
Just for the record, my latest Civic has given me considerable trouble - a knocking engine sound from the first day that their engineers just could not fix for two years, and some odd electronic whirring connected with the aircon. Let's see what happens to their quality reputation in India a few years hence.
I must admit I feel this way solely from personal experience - I used to drive a Toyota Camry in the US and had all sorts of niggling problems. Yes, something about the accelerator pedal would make me worry that the it would stick under the floor mat (I used to pull back the floor mat before driving); the sticky accelerator was the problem that finally did Toyota in. But there were also other issues with the interiors. The center console storage had a cover whose hinges gave way. The sun visor on the driver's side had a plastic flip cover over the vanity mirror whose hinges grew, er, plasticky and then gave way - twice!
The core of the car was simply perfect, but the plastics seemed very badly put together. I never had such problems even with my Santro in India.
The state of the Camry's interior seemed so much at variance with the mantra we learned in our manufacturing classes about Toyota quality. I thought it may have been a result of the Americanization of the production for the US market. But it now seems it was at least a little because of a slightly pompous "we know best" mindset back at Toyota's Japan HQ.
Perhaps they were out driving Lexuses! (http://manasblog.proton.in/2009/09/eat-your-own-dog-food.html )
Quality translates directly into repeat business. I had - at another time - a VW New Beetle, which had the recurring problem of fused headlamps, and I knew a friend who had to return his VW Jetta under the US's "Lemon Law". So I would not easily buy a VW in India. And my sisters and I each had Honda Civics at some point or other which never gave us any trouble at all, so I bought a Civic in India as well. Also, when I had to trust my safety to a motorcycle on relatively fast US highways, I felt most confident on a machine made by Honda.
Just for the record, my latest Civic has given me considerable trouble - a knocking engine sound from the first day that their engineers just could not fix for two years, and some odd electronic whirring connected with the aircon. Let's see what happens to their quality reputation in India a few years hence.
Monday, February 8, 2010
An India we have to address
I realize that I have already used two consecutive installments of this blog on "A midsummer nightmare" and I wondered if I should risk a third on a similar theme. This is, after all, a blog on a business school website.
But as things turned out, I came across an intense essay by a young friend who is of Indian origin but was born in the US and has lived there all her life. Her name is Meesha and she is a second year science undergrad. She visited India when she was 16, and wrote this essay when she was 19 for an English class. I was compelled by its elegant sadness to put it up here.
It talks of things about India that we all know but have to gloss over in order to stay sane. And it describes them through the innocent eyes of the very young who have never lived here.
It's worth reading, even as I look out of my Gurgaon window and see an entire horizon of skyscrapers twinkling with lights.
So here goes - an essay on a trip to the Taj Mahal.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What constitutes the title “wonder of the world?” Is it a wall constructed perfectly to keep the enemy out, is it an ancient city on a mountain, is it a colossal theater, or is it a beautifully designed tomb for someone's long lost love? Furthermore, once titled, should everything surrounding the “wonder” be shrouded in a mask of majesty; can nothing other than the facade of it's name be perceived? Well, if that was the intent, I am witness to failure.
The Taj Mahal itself is the most impressive structure I have ever witnessed. As I crossed the threshold from the blindness of being behind the surrounding walls to a panoramic view of the Taj Mahal, the sheer size of the building and it's surroundings caught the breath short in my chest (opulence seems to have been one of Mumtaz's specialties). The reflection pool laid in front of the Taj is analogous to a red carpet; setting one up for the extravagance to come. While walking up the the steps, the sun reflecting off the marble and into my retinas provided the next transition of scenery: the inside. The tomb is embellished from top to bottom causing one's eye to dart frantically trying to absorb all of the information. Essentially, the ceiling is the inside of a giant onion dome that begs the question of how such a large structure remains suspended. After surveying the inside in it's entirety I left with a memory that will be forever have engraved in my mind.
With all this said, one may ask where the failure component occurred. The reason I suggest that I felt disappointed is not because of the experience of seeing the Taj Mahal itself, but rather the journey to get to it. When I think back on my experience, rather than feeling fond, I am immediately flooded with despair. The things that I witnessed on a five hour car ride changed my life forever.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As I get into the car I hear my mother outside talking to her brother. She mutters in Hindi, “I don't know if I can handle this.” He reassures her and she gets into the vehicle. We start the journey in our air conditioned SUV that sticks out like a sore thumb on the winding dirt roads. As per usual we witness the occasional beggar or child selling corn on the side of the road. As the heat of the noon starts beating down on our metal case the air condition struggles to maintain equilibrium. We crack open a can of coke and drink it greedily. As the hours pass the scenery changes from the tranquil India I know to a very different world. I see nothing but shacks. Tiny “home” contraptions made of old car parts and scrap metal. People line the roads by the hundreds, so much so that we are not driving any longer, but rather, crawling.
The people are a whole new world too. Due to the lack of shelter their skin appears to be charred by the sun like burgers left on a grill too long. Their corneas and teeth are the same shade of unhealthy yellow. Their hair is matted to their head like a dog that hasn't been brushed in years. Actually, the longer I look at them the more they remind me of stray animals rather than people. The things they do start to strike me as beast-like. A naked man crudely blows his nose into his hand. A mother carries her child on her back while looking through a garbage heap with her hands. The air is thick with melancholy.
Then I see the most graphic image I have ever witnessed in my life. It is burned into my memory; vivid and brutally honest. When I close my eyes and think about this car ride I see a child wearing only a dirty loin cloth squatting on the roadside defecating exactly like my dog does in the back yard. I can see the discomfort of his severe diarrhea in his eyes. I can see him being reduced to less than a beast. He has been stripped of all humanity, he has lost what it means to be a homosapien; he is merely a mass. This is the brush that colored my world with an entirely different palate than I had ever imagined. Suddenly a stark reality set in that the world around me sucks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
After this point the rest of the trip was cast in shadows. The trip that I had been looking forward to with a naïve sense of optimism, was now tainted with truth. Ever since this fated moment, whenever I see a homeless person, or someone being petty and materialistic, the image of that boy pops into my head and drapes me in a sheet of sorrow.
The reason that this trip had such a profound effect on me is largely because of the context I come from. I come from the world of middle-class America. Where I have privileges that only a fraction of the world has the luxury of enjoying. One such privilege is watching the trials of the world on the silver screen in the safety of an overly air-conditioned movie theater. I did just that when I saw the movie Slumdog Millionaire. I felt the same way the day I watched that movie that I did at the moment I witnessed that boy. I could not speak afterwards, and the rest of the day was cast in those same shadows.
I feel that I will revisit that boy many times in my life. Although, it hurts me, I am glad that I have him. He keeps me grounded. He reminds me of how incredibly blessed I am. He also drives me to help; to help him and everyone around him. Finally, I learned from him. I learned that India is a beautiful country rich with culture, but it is also a broken spirit. There are far too many little boys out there who don't know what it feels like to be comfortable and well. When I think of the Taj Mahal I taste a bittersweetness in my mouth. The structure itself is beautiful, but the journey to get to it is morbid. I find this to be a metaphor for all of India; the potential is there, but you need to go through a lot of hardships to reach perfection.
But as things turned out, I came across an intense essay by a young friend who is of Indian origin but was born in the US and has lived there all her life. Her name is Meesha and she is a second year science undergrad. She visited India when she was 16, and wrote this essay when she was 19 for an English class. I was compelled by its elegant sadness to put it up here.
It talks of things about India that we all know but have to gloss over in order to stay sane. And it describes them through the innocent eyes of the very young who have never lived here.
It's worth reading, even as I look out of my Gurgaon window and see an entire horizon of skyscrapers twinkling with lights.
So here goes - an essay on a trip to the Taj Mahal.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What constitutes the title “wonder of the world?” Is it a wall constructed perfectly to keep the enemy out, is it an ancient city on a mountain, is it a colossal theater, or is it a beautifully designed tomb for someone's long lost love? Furthermore, once titled, should everything surrounding the “wonder” be shrouded in a mask of majesty; can nothing other than the facade of it's name be perceived? Well, if that was the intent, I am witness to failure.
The Taj Mahal itself is the most impressive structure I have ever witnessed. As I crossed the threshold from the blindness of being behind the surrounding walls to a panoramic view of the Taj Mahal, the sheer size of the building and it's surroundings caught the breath short in my chest (opulence seems to have been one of Mumtaz's specialties). The reflection pool laid in front of the Taj is analogous to a red carpet; setting one up for the extravagance to come. While walking up the the steps, the sun reflecting off the marble and into my retinas provided the next transition of scenery: the inside. The tomb is embellished from top to bottom causing one's eye to dart frantically trying to absorb all of the information. Essentially, the ceiling is the inside of a giant onion dome that begs the question of how such a large structure remains suspended. After surveying the inside in it's entirety I left with a memory that will be forever have engraved in my mind.
With all this said, one may ask where the failure component occurred. The reason I suggest that I felt disappointed is not because of the experience of seeing the Taj Mahal itself, but rather the journey to get to it. When I think back on my experience, rather than feeling fond, I am immediately flooded with despair. The things that I witnessed on a five hour car ride changed my life forever.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As I get into the car I hear my mother outside talking to her brother. She mutters in Hindi, “I don't know if I can handle this.” He reassures her and she gets into the vehicle. We start the journey in our air conditioned SUV that sticks out like a sore thumb on the winding dirt roads. As per usual we witness the occasional beggar or child selling corn on the side of the road. As the heat of the noon starts beating down on our metal case the air condition struggles to maintain equilibrium. We crack open a can of coke and drink it greedily. As the hours pass the scenery changes from the tranquil India I know to a very different world. I see nothing but shacks. Tiny “home” contraptions made of old car parts and scrap metal. People line the roads by the hundreds, so much so that we are not driving any longer, but rather, crawling.
The people are a whole new world too. Due to the lack of shelter their skin appears to be charred by the sun like burgers left on a grill too long. Their corneas and teeth are the same shade of unhealthy yellow. Their hair is matted to their head like a dog that hasn't been brushed in years. Actually, the longer I look at them the more they remind me of stray animals rather than people. The things they do start to strike me as beast-like. A naked man crudely blows his nose into his hand. A mother carries her child on her back while looking through a garbage heap with her hands. The air is thick with melancholy.
Then I see the most graphic image I have ever witnessed in my life. It is burned into my memory; vivid and brutally honest. When I close my eyes and think about this car ride I see a child wearing only a dirty loin cloth squatting on the roadside defecating exactly like my dog does in the back yard. I can see the discomfort of his severe diarrhea in his eyes. I can see him being reduced to less than a beast. He has been stripped of all humanity, he has lost what it means to be a homosapien; he is merely a mass. This is the brush that colored my world with an entirely different palate than I had ever imagined. Suddenly a stark reality set in that the world around me sucks.
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After this point the rest of the trip was cast in shadows. The trip that I had been looking forward to with a naïve sense of optimism, was now tainted with truth. Ever since this fated moment, whenever I see a homeless person, or someone being petty and materialistic, the image of that boy pops into my head and drapes me in a sheet of sorrow.
The reason that this trip had such a profound effect on me is largely because of the context I come from. I come from the world of middle-class America. Where I have privileges that only a fraction of the world has the luxury of enjoying. One such privilege is watching the trials of the world on the silver screen in the safety of an overly air-conditioned movie theater. I did just that when I saw the movie Slumdog Millionaire. I felt the same way the day I watched that movie that I did at the moment I witnessed that boy. I could not speak afterwards, and the rest of the day was cast in those same shadows.
I feel that I will revisit that boy many times in my life. Although, it hurts me, I am glad that I have him. He keeps me grounded. He reminds me of how incredibly blessed I am. He also drives me to help; to help him and everyone around him. Finally, I learned from him. I learned that India is a beautiful country rich with culture, but it is also a broken spirit. There are far too many little boys out there who don't know what it feels like to be comfortable and well. When I think of the Taj Mahal I taste a bittersweetness in my mouth. The structure itself is beautiful, but the journey to get to it is morbid. I find this to be a metaphor for all of India; the potential is there, but you need to go through a lot of hardships to reach perfection.
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