The Emerging Middle Class In My Colony

I live in a middle class co-operative group housing society in dwarka, a suburb in Delhi. It has 120 flats. To most members the original cost of the flat was close to eight lakhs in 1997. Today after 14 years, it fetches more than 65 lakh rupees. Most of the residents are delighted to discover that they are multi millionaires.

Most of the owners happen to be in services. A majority of them are government employees and the rest are in private sector. A small fraction is self-employed.

Gradually, people are retiring, from services. One of my neighbours has retired from government service. He receives a monthly pension of 18,000 rupees. He does not have additional source of income. He is single. The money is more than sufficient to run his household expenses. He is a contented man.

The washer man of the colony is Babulal. He has migrated from Rajasthan. He lives three kilometers away at Palam. It was once a village. He owns a house on a fifty square meter plot at Palam. Babulal comes each day on a bicycle, and irons clothes in an open car parking space, in the colony. Babulal’s wife irons clothes at Palam village.
On an average Babulal irons close to 150 clothes a day and charges 1.50 rupees per cloth. He thus makes 300 rupees in a day. His wife also makes 300 rupees a day. Both of them together make 600 a day or 15000 a month. Only expense is the coal, which is roughly 1500. Thus take home is 13500.
The washer man has a monthly income, close to our retired friend.

One late evening, while I was taking a stroll in the colony, the Watchman enquired about my daughter and asked, “ I do not see her these days?”
I said she is studying engineering near Mangalore in Karnataka.
“Is it Manipal?’
I was surprised.
What subject is she studying?
She is studying a subject that is a branch of Electrical.
Is it Instrumentation?
I was amazed at his knowledge. How do you know so much about engineering?
In fact my second son is studying engineering in Delhi.
How much fees do you pay per year?
It is close to 80,000.00 Rupees.

I could not believe. I thought this happens only in Bollywood. Even in my wildest dream, I could not have imagined that a Security Guard of my colony, who earns 4500.00 rupees a month, can afford high tuition fees of an Engineering College.
Literally for the past three years I hardly have any savings. I find it difficult to afford the tuition fees for my daughter.
“How do you manage?” I asked
“My son takes tuition in the evening. He earns 2,500.00 rupees a month. My eldest son is in police. He contributes 3,000.00 a month…… I have a shop that fetches a monthly rent of 2500. I contribute close to 1000.00 a month from my remuneration. We are somehow able to manage.”

We have a twenty-five year resident in the colony that tried but could not get admission in a good engineering college. He is now working in a call centre.
The watchman’s son in due course of time will be economically better off than the some of the children of the residents.

The vegetable seller, who is self-employed, like me, sets up a shop, each evening. He must be earning more than 7500 a month. One evening after I bought the vegetables, I asked him to weigh it. He said he is not charging any of his regular customers this evening. His daughter has completed her four-year Chartered Accountancy papers in one go.
I was surprised. When I look at the residents, there is one student who have taken six years and is yet to complete his Chartered Accountancy.

25th March 2008

Our daughter has completed her Engineering and employed at Tata Consultancy Services, a prestigious IT Company. Her salary is 24,000 rupees, whereas the vegetable seller’s daughter is earning 35,000 rupees, earning close to one and a half times.

When she misses the company bus, she takes a public transport bus run by DTC (Delhi Transport Corporation). The salary of a permanent driver with more than three years of experience, will earn more than a software engineer. One day, while traveling in a DTC bus, a passenger sitting next to me, mentioned that he works as a peon, for a public sector company, ONGC ( Oil & Natural Gas Commission) earning a salary of more than 80,000 rupees. That is three times that of a Software Engineer. I said to the co-passenger, “If there is a vacancy of peon, at ONGC, do let me know”.

My close friend, the retired officer had a heart attack, last year. He was hospitalized for a week. He did not feel the financial pinch. All the cost was borne by the government. His pension has been increased by 70%, courtesy Sixth Pay Commission. His pension is now close to 30,000 rupees.

Babulal also had a heart attack three months back. He was treated and he has recovered. It made him poorer by 2,50,000 rupees. The residents voluntarily contributed 50,000 rupees. He borrowed 2,00,000 rupees, interest free, from one of the relatives who is a serving government servant, in the income tax department. Babulal is under debt. Whatever money he saves, goes into debt servicing.
His wife, who is 42 years of age, is not keeping good heath. She has discontinued ironing at Palam. Second source of income has dried up.
Their second son, a student, helps his father. Both of them irons 200 clothes day. He has increased the rate to 2 Rupees per cloth.

I had visualized that in one generation, Babulal’s family, will catch up with one of the residents. However with the heart attack, he has lost the race.
But I have not lost hope. The new emerging middle class, often semi literate, through their hard work and entrepreneurship, will sure catch up with the typical English educated and employee mindset.

12th March 2011

SHOOTING TIGER WITH A CAMERA

When I was in school, my teacher told me two characteristics of a tiger. That he will die of hunger but not eat grass and he will not eat the meat of a pray killed by other predator. And for thirty two years I never questioned.

Till 1984 I had never seen a moving image of a tiger. All that I had seen were sketches, still photographs of dead tigers used as trophy by the erstwhile Maharajas and the British, tiger skin fixed high on the wall looking down at me as if it is going to jump any moment, stuffed tiger in a palace or a museum.

I was brought up initially in a small town Daltonganj, in Jharkhand. Betla National Park was close by. My father a state government employee, took me to the park on a number of occasions, but I could not see the tiger. We had to satisfy ourselves with the Pug Marks.
Father was transferred every two to three years. The towns that he was posted did not have the zoo. If it had the zoo, there was no tiger in it.

At the college library one day, I happened to see a pictorial book on Tiger. The pictures had a sepia tone….. must have been taken a generation or two before me. Almost all the pictures were of dead tigers, used as trophies. I wondered why a live tiger was not photographed. Was the photographer scared to shoot a real tiger or he did not have the technology ( may be the camera was as bulky as the tiger itself) or the poor fellow was not permitted. These questions remain unanswered even now.

At the film school, we were shown the best fiction films from all over the world. I was exposed to the best of actors, directors and cinematographers I was taught how to shoot a feature film with actors. What I was not taught was how to shoot a live tiger.

As a freelance cinematographer, I had varied assignments. Shot (on camera) Presidents to Peons. Nine years after passing out of film school, I was offered an assignment to shoot a short film on Corbett National Park, located on the foothills of Himalayas. It had close to and continues to have hundred plus tigers. It is a well managed park. We carried the basic equipment, like Camera, Tripod, Microphone, Monitor, Lenses and related accessories. We shot the park from several angles. Capture the flora and fauna. On the fifth day of filming we had all the necessary shots except the tiger.

The Director of the film discussed with the field staff; where the likelihood of locating Tiger was. It was recommended to film from a Machan, next to the water body. We were advised to go the next day, early in morning, as the tiger was sighted there often.
We slept early. Got up early. By five we were there at the Machan.
We waited …… . waited …. and waited. But the tiger refused to give us a glimpse.
By 1100 hours, the Director of the film lost his patience. He was hungry and thought tiger will not come to the water body in top light. He asked me to pack up the gear and go to the lodge. He wanted to come again later in the evening to the machan once again.

I was not particularly hungry. I was carrying some dry-fruits. I requested the Director if I could stay back alone. They could bring some packed food when they come again, in the eveining.

I was all alone at the Machan, with a camera, at a height of 30 feet. I was reminded that I was safe and that tiger will not climb the ladder to grab me, however hungry it may be.
Every five minutes, I would look all around to see if the tiger was there. I was also informed about the alarm call of deer and monkeys.
For two hours I was doing nothing except watching. Almost felt drowsy.
I found monkeys moving on the tree. But they were quiet and looking down. I glanced down at the water body. To my surprise, I saw the tiger in front of my eyes. It was my first encounter. We exchanged looks.

My heart beat increased. Feet started trembling. I knew the tiger is not going to climb the ladder…. But the feet refused to take instructions from the brain. I came close the camera, switched on the power supply. Use the zoom of the lens, to get as close to the tiger as possible. I had not yet pressed the record button. The feet continued to shake. The tripod, camera and the lens were all shaking as if I was in a ship. The shot wasn’t stable. I said to myself “DON’T PRESS THE RECORD BUTTON. THE DIRECTOR WILL LAUGH AT ME. WAIT TILL YOU STABILIZE”.

I was worried that by the time my feet stabilize, the tiger would go away. He cannot go on drinking water for eternity. He is not a film artist. So what if the crew laughs at me looking at the unstable shot. At-least we have the footage of the tiger. At the most footage will not be used in the film.

I was in dilemma. However, I pressed the record button. It took me couple of minutes to stabilize. We did have stable shots of the tiger in close, drinking. Later the tiger stayed back, next to the water body. Camouflaged himself within the bushes. Waited for the prey. We captured all the behavior on camera.

Later in the evening, while reviewing the footage, after the initial laugh, the footage was appreciated.

Inside the National Park, we are not allowed to stand or walk. Filming is only possible from a machan, open jeep or from the top of an elephant. The next day we wanted to film tiger from the top of the elephant. We did not have proper gear. The tripod could not be mounted on the top of the elephant. Only hand held shots were possible. We found the tiger. We took hand held shots. The mahout ( Elephant man) was not impressed with my preparedness and the footage. He asked me if I have had ever used Elephant Tripod? I knew Elephant and I also knew tripod. But the word “Elephant Tripod” was unfamiliar to me. He mentioned in no uncertain words that I am not the right person for filming tiger.

Several years later, a wild life film maker from USA wanted to make a wild life film on tiger. She hired my services. The film was shot in Central India.
I had the privilege of using Elephant Tripod, for the first time. It was fourteen feet high. Two and a half times, my height. It was made of aluminum. Heavy as well. But I had never used it. However, it did not take much time to make myself familiar.

I had to carry this 20 Kilogram of three legged monster on top of the elephant. When I spot the tiger, I had to bring it down to the ground. I had to spread the three legs of the tripod, using my feet, while I am seated on the elephant. I had to check if the tripod is stable. Then mount the camera on the tripod. The body of the elephant should not touch it. I continue sitting on the elephant. It worked very well for static shots. However I was unable to pan and tilt the camera as the elephant will not remain static.

We had to switch to another design, where on top of the 14 feet elephant tripod, the cameraperson could sit and there is space for mounting the camera, as well in front. I had to first fix the tripod. I then have to shift from elephant to the tripod. Make sure it was stable. The mahout will then hand over the camera. I had to fix the camera on the cup. It worked wonders. We were able to explore all camera movements. The film several international awards.

We carried the elephant tripod where ever we went. We kept under lock and key, when we went to bed. We were worried other film makers might steal or damage it. The film was shot over 100 days. We were following a tigress and her two cubs. The tigress saw me almost every alternate day. She happened to be one of the most photographed tigress in the world. While fixing the tripod one day, the legs slipped. It was resting on a stone and it had rained the previous night. I fell down from a height of 14 feet along with the tripod.
In front of me at a distance of twenty feet, there was the tigress with her two cubs. It was a surprise for the tigress, as well. Looks were exchanged. I got up, but did not move. Apologized to the Madam. She did give me a mock charge. But I did not move an inch. A minute later she resumed her feast, a deer that se had hunted. I took couple of steps backwards, gradually, till I came close to the elephant. I then grabbed the tail and climbed. I do not from where I got the energy, but within seconds I was on the top of the elephant, close to the Mahout.
Later in the evening I tried climbing the same elephant holding its tail, several times, but in vain.

Whenever I narrate the incident, I am asked why I fell. Invariably my answer is “Gravity Continues To Work”.

I have shot several films on tiger. But I have not seen tiger eating grass.
But when the tiger is old or handicapped, whereby it cannot kill on his own he does snatch the kill.

I am sorry about my school friends, who still carry the same misconception about the tiger.

It is possible to view images at flickr

FULL CIRCLE

Like any aspiring middle class Indian adult, who is unable to inherit a landed property, Shambhu Chaurasia was keen to procure a small place of his own. He migrated from a small town in East India, to Delhi, for employment opportunities. He is a graduate and has been working in the media, as a freelancer. He is married and has two kids.

For several years he had been applying for the allotment of a flat from Delhi Development Authoriry. It had been like a lottery. The ratio between applicants vs allotted are close to 100 :1. He gave up.

He then looked for a flat that was available on Resale.
When he had seven lakh rupees (US$14,000) the price of the flats were ten lakhs (US$20,000). A few years later when he had ten lakhs, the price of the properties appreciated to fourteen lakhs (US$28,000). It was a never ending chase. Till 1995, most of the Development Authority flats were available for sale under Power of Attorney, but hardly any public sector banks were willing to sanction loan to an unorganized labourer.

Shambhu got to know the Managing Directors of the programme, who was constructing a Bungalow, and had also booked a flat in a co-operative group housing society, by paying a nominal ground rent, several years back.

The Society was under construction. There was a demand of three lakh rupees(US$6,000), towards construction cost. The Managing Director did not want to invest his resources in two properties. Society had dispatched several notices. But he did not respond. Finally, the Managing Committee decided to terminate his membership. They referred the matter to the Registrar, Co-operative Societies. The Managing Director of the Media Company woke up from a slumber, and finally decided to dispose off the flat. He spoke to his Finance Manager, who was keen to procure a flat. He was asked to look at the flat. He hired a cab – an ambassador. It was summer and the car was not air conditioned. He did not like the idea of going alone. He wanted someone to accompany him. He asked Shambhu to hop in, if he was not doing anything.

The journey from his office would have taken 45 minutes, under normal circumstances. There was a railway crossing. They waited for a train to pass by. Ten minutes later, a train did cross; but the gate refused to move. They waited inside the car. It was hot. Both of them were restless. A second train came and went. But the gate remained static. The Finance Manager was losing his patience. Shambhu pacified him, “The Government is considering a fly-over and in a couple of years you won’t have to wait here; you can zip across.” He asked Shambhu to live in the Present.

The traffic after the railway crossing moved at a snail’s pace. The street was full of cattle. It did not look like Delhi. It was like a overgrown village.

Finally they arrived after 90 minutes, to the housing Society, under construction.
They saw the flat model. It had three bedrooms. The construction would have taken two years and the residents would get possessions only after three years. The Finance Manager did not want to wait that long. He was keen to procure a flat and shift as soon a possible.

The Finance Manager did not like the idea of spending three hours, commuting each day, to work. He asked Shambhu if he was interested.

To begin with he was not keen either. He failed to realize the hidden opportunity. He disclosed his family in the evening where he went and what he saw. Owning a house sounded like music to the ears of his wife and children.
“Finally we will have a place of our own”. “No landlords”
“No rent to be paid”
“No hassle to shift every two/three years”

Shambhu met the Managing Director, the next day and mentioned that he was keen to procure it. Shambhu was informed that there was a court case because of non payment of dues. He was asked if he had couple of lakhs to pay to the Society, in a short notice.

The Managing Committee of the Housing Society was keen to cancel the membership of the Managing Director. They would have preferred to get another member and charge him Entry fees. Shambhu Chaurasia represented the case on behalf of the Managing Director. The judgment was passed in favour of the Managing Director. The membership was regularized. The Secretary called Shambhu Chaurasia aside and asked him to make sure that all future payments are made in time.
He straight went to the temple, offered prayers to god and donations to the priest. He was happy and delighted to cross a hurdle.

Since then Shambhu Chaurasia made several rounds of the office of The Registrar Co–Operative Group Housing Society, Secretary of the Co- Operative group Housing Society, Chartered Accountant, Lawyer, DDA office. He withdrew all his savings that he made in the last fifteen years. All the shares were sold; Fixed Deposits were disposed off, sold fifty silver coins and two gold coins that he inherited. The family did not take any vacations for three years.

The Society gave the receipts in the name of the Managing Director only. Shambhu Chaurasia was not sure if the deal was legal. He constantly worried, if he will ever be able to live in the flat? What happens if the Managing Director gives power of attorney to someone else, as well?

They finally shifted to their own house five years later. The flyover came up a few years after he moved in. Shambhu did not have to wait any long, at the railway crossing.

Shambhu did well professionally for a few years. He toyed with the idea of buying a second flat, for investment, as he did not have any pension, gratuity nor provident fund.
But his family discouraged him. They never had a good time when they were in their prime youth. Now they wanted to enjoy life. They wanted to eat chinese food in air conditioned restaurants , see movies in multiplexes, take vacations, buy jewellery…… they had an endless list. The story did not end here like a Hindi film.

Shambhu has crossed fifty five years. Media is constantly been looking for young people. He hardly got an assignment. He found it difficult to survive. His wife was neither qualified nor keen to find a job that could support the family.
Maid servant was terminated. Two Air conditioners were sold off. Between them they had four cell phones (one for each member) and one landline. It was reduced to two. They did not use their car for several months. They realized that even if they were not using the car, they invariably spend 10,000 rupees each year. So it had to go. Both the kids were forced to take educational loans.

He had to dispose the flat. He moved to the same town in east India, where he came from. Bought a flat at half the cost, and with the balance money he invested in Fix Deposits. He though he could survive on interest alone. Inflation forced him to look for a business where he could be gainfully employed and bring an extra income.
He opened a STD booth. Managed for a year. Mobile telephones
killed his business.

Shambhu switched to Internet cafe and later added a second hand photocopying machine. The customers are however declining. half of his regular customers have installed internet at home. Shambhu is a worried man. He is now toying with the idea to close down his internet cafe.

You can view images at flickr

THE STAPLE DIET

My mother if she wanted to pamper me; would ask, “What would you like to eat; my
son?” when I came home during vacations from a boarding school.
I had only two options: Roti or Rice. I am not supposed to say ” Mom !!!! I would like to have Roti as well as Rice”.

With each meal, invariably there will be one vegetable – cooked with curry or shallow fried. When the mother was in good mood, she will cook two vegetables. Pickle was always there. Radish and onion, if not there in the plate, my father will invariably demand it. With rice there will be Dal and roasted papad.

No eggs or chicken at home. My mother had never touched an egg, in her life. Non vegetarian food was never cooked in generations. In-case I needed to have an egg, I was asked to go out of the house. Before entering home I was supposed to wash hands with soap, that too in front of the watchful eyes of the mother. I cannot say I have washed it already.
My grandmother never ate in a restaurant, or a meal cooked by an unknown person. On pilgrimage, she used to eat that was either cooked by her or relatives.

Occasionally we sweet dish. Most of the veggies had the same ingredients and cooked in the same fashion. She did try to make egg less cake one day that my father learnt from senior officer’s wife. It was burnt badly at the bottom. It tasted like burnt toast with caramel. She however did not give up. The dish improved over time.  She cooked caramel custard pretty well. Often we used to ask her to prepare it.

My father never had drinks at home or at business. I only saw villains drinking in hindi cinema. I asked father one day if he has ever tasted the forbidden juice.
He replied that his father never drank nor his grand father. And they have gone to heaven. I didn’t know how to react.

A friend once presented a bottle of beer, on his birthday. He could not say NO. The prized bottle was kept inside a shelf for couple of months, under lock and key, by my mother. Whenever he wanted to taste, my mother will say it is too late …have it the next day…. what is the need….. have a lemon juice instead….I cannot remember where it is kept…….

He had never tasted beer earlier. The bottle was kept inside the cupboard, hidden from my father, for almost a year. On his subsequent birthday, he insisted to open the can. Mother gave me the bottle to hand it over to him. But this time I hid the bottle, in my school bag. I thought he is going to get drunk and beat my mother and scold all of us and force us to study. Later, on persistence demand, I gave the bottle on a condition that he will not touch the mother and quietly go to sleep.

It was summer. We did not have the fridge as it was considered a luxury. My father suddenly remembered that beer should be consumed when it is chill. I was asked to carry the bottle hidden inside a bag, to the PWD Inspection Bungalow, the only place in town that had a fridge. I was carrying the bottle in my hand. Mother stopped me. Wrapped the bottle in a newspaper. Then It was kept in my school bag. I was asked to keep it inside the chilled tray for 45 minutes and then come running as fast as possible.

Beer was poured in a glass, half of which spilled. He took a sip. Found it bitter. Made faces. I asked if it tasted like fruit juice, tea, coffee or coke. He preferred not to reply. I did not give up. Asked second time; if it tasted like cucumber juice. He gave me a tough look. I thought he got drunk with one sip. He took another gulp. Did not like the taste. He looked at the mother. She looked at me and asked to bring sugar from the kitchen. four spoons of sugar was added in the beer, and my father relished it.
Father drank only one glass. Cursed the Britishers to introduce this bitter juice. My mother and sisters washed their hair with the rest of the beer, the next day.

My family is no different. After marriage, my brother brought ten bottle of liquor. I was working in a small town in Tamil Nadu. I never drank alone. So I called my friends one after another. The party lasted for five days. But only two bottles were consumed. My wife, nor her ancestors, had ever touched alcohol. On the sixth day she lost her patience as I was about to invite my friends.
She wore shoes. I thought she is going for a jog. Brought all the eight bottles to the bathroom. She raised the bottle and dropped it from a height. Picked up the second bottle … dropped once again. Picked up the third… then the fourth. I said to myself : “Come What May I am Not Going To Get Angry.”
When she picked up the eight bottle, she asked what kind of man are you ? Why you are not upset or angry ?
I Said , “I am waiting for the gravity to stop working.”
She dropped the idea of dropping the bottle. I preserved the memento and used it for my birthday.

Once my grown up son was coming to India. I asked him to buy two bottles from a Duty Free shop. When my wife came to know, I was given 30 minutes lecture. She thought I am spooling son. Then she called up the son and not to bring any liquor for his spoiled dad. Son did not know whom to listen.

My wife knows how to cook Chawal Roti and continues to do so very well. It is however supplemented with influence from the west.  Liquor and chicken is not a taboo anymore. Once in a blue moon I am allowed to have beer with the staple diet.

 

LOOSE REMARK

While shooting a television serial, the Production Manager completely forgot to bring a lady artist to a remote village, for a minor role. There was a panic. Looking for a professional artist, from the city, would mean loss of a day.

The smart but forgetful Production Manager, found a young & educated woman, in the village itself.
She had to perform the role of a pregnant woman , tortured by her mother-in-law. She was brought to the location, without any brief.

Her tummy was inflated with a pillow. She was reluctant, but obliged. As she was supposed to perform an advanced stage of pregnancy, an additional pillow was tied to her tummy, to make it obvious, on camera. She wanted to run away but couldn’t back out. Commitment is commitment.

All the scenes were not completed that day.
The following day, the lady refused to come. There was panic once again. To repeat the scenes all over again, with a different artist, would mean loss of two days.

The key members of the unit went to find out , what the reasons could be.
It seems a loose remark was made by the ladies in the village,” A miracle has happened. The poor girl just went for one day, and see how inflated her tummy is. The following day only god knows how big it will be. These film people are highly potent. What takes nine months for us, it happened in just one day”.

We learnt one lesson, refrain casting an ordinary woman for an extraordinary role.

LOW COST LATRINE

A NGO in the development sector wanted to make a short non fiction film to promote Low Cost Latrine, to be advocated in rural India, whereby the masses would stop defecating in open. I was handling the camera for them.

On the second day of the shooting in a village, we began our work early in the morning, in a village in Uttar Pradesh… An hour later the Consultant from the United Nations informed us that he would be back from the hotel, in an hour.

“Your presence is required. We won’t be able to shoot without you”, I requested.

“Look I need to go immediately. If required, take a break”, the Consultant said.

“We have an early morning light at the moment. Later, we have to shoot in top light. Isn’t it possible if you could postpone your visit?”

“No”.

“Have you missed any documents in the Hotel”?

“No.”

“Do you have an appointment? Is someone waiting for you?”

“No…! Want to go for a crap. The pressure is building up”; ultimately the Consultant disclosed .

“I have a brilliant idea. The low cost latrine is right here. It is waiting to be inaugurated by your…’ I mean by you.”

“I don’t think I can fulfill your request.”

“You could always reconsider your decision, Sir.”

The low cost latrines are designed for the rural, poverty stricken. It is not fit for the consultants, who either design or advocate them. That too, the Consultant had a coloured skin.

The villagers don’t use them. During five days of our filming most of them preferred open fields, instead.

The question that arises – Why the villagers say NO to the development agencies when they approach them for the construction of low cost latrines.

I see abandoned low cost latrines, almost everywhere. They continue to be constructed and abandoned.

GROWING UP

Economic compulsion can make intelligent men and women behave in an irrational manner. One of our neighbours, who if not wise, is definitely an educated person; brought a cycle for her seven year daughter.

The colour of the cycle is pleasing. The tyres are wide. The bell is musical. It even carries a good brand name. Nevertheless, it has one flaw. The cycle is too big for her daughter. It could be other way round; the daughter is too small for the cycle. The mother is of right height. Cycling could improve her figure, further. But she is shy to move in the colony, with the cycle.

The daughter is scared to learn. She won’t like to blame the gravitational force, if she falls. It is therefore kept at one corner of the house. Once the daughter couldn’t control her temptations. Tried to learn, but fractured one of her bones.

Our nine years daughter asked the girl’s mother, “Auntie, Auntie – why didn’t you buy her a smaller cycle – I mean cycle of her height, that she can use?”

“Will you give me the money to buy another cycle – when she grows up?”

Our daughter was obviously silenced by her reply. I wish cycle could be made out of rubber. Just stretch, while one is growing up. No need to buy cycles repeatedly.

MAKING OF AN ENGINEER

03 Aug 2006

My cousin Pashupati Anand (Name changed) has an ambition…… to be an engineer come what may.

His one and only ambition is get admission in IIT ( Indian Institute Of Technology) .

Pashupati’s father is economically well off in the backward state of Bihar. He is a trader who deals in dried Mahua (Madhuca Longifolia) fruits. Both his parents were taught in local vernacular – Hindi. They cannot speak English fluently.

They do not want their children to sell Mahua. The word is associated with country liquor. Engineering is respectable.

This is not an isolated case. Quite a few relatives who are petty Shop Keepers and Traders want to educate their children. Instead of a simple graduation, which will only fetch a degree, they prefer their children to do a course in engineering which will earn respect among other shopkeepers, assured starting salary of 20,000 rupees in Information Technology, dowry in seven figures, chances to go abroad, and the child will speak English, the language of the elite.

Pashupati studied till class X at Green Memorial School at Gaya, Bihar, where Gautam Buddha was enlightened 2500 years ago. It is a senior secondary school that imparts knowledge in English medium. It is one of the finest schools in Gaya. After completing class X, he neither wanted to study in the same school nor in the same state.

Kota is the city to study engineering and Bangalore is the city for software engineers. The mass media has created hype that if you are not studying at Kota, your chance of getting admission in a respectable engineering college is bleak.

There is a direct train from Gaya to Kota.

He tried Bansal, the most sought after coaching institute. He appeared for the test but could not make it. He then settled for the second best, Resonance.

Bansal and Resonance are coaching centres. They do not run schools. In-order to take Engineering Test, one has to pass Class XII through CBSE Board and later take separate tests for IIT and National Institute of Technology. While at the coaching centre, Pashupati realized that IIT is not his cup of tea. But he thinks he has a good chance for Tier II and Tier III engineering colleges.

There were good schools in Kota itself where he could have been enrolled. But his chances of getting admission in an engineering college in Jharkhand/Bihar through AIEEE state quota will be bleak.

He preferred to take admission in a school in Jharkhand and not Bihar.

In whole of Bihar there is only one engineering College of repute: National Institute of Technology, Patna. In Jharkhand there are three engineering colleges of repute: BITS, Mesra, NIT Jamshedpur and Indian School Of Mines, Dhanbad. So Pashupati said to himself that with his average performance in AIEEE test he has a good chance in getting admission in one of the three engineering colleges in Jharkhand.

When Pashupati was admitted in Resonance, he thought half the battle was won.

The second stage was to look for a school in Jharkhand where he can be enrolled without having to attend a single class, no internal exams, no practical and should be promoted to class XII; without any test. He has to come only once, in the next two years, for the final test conducted by CBSE.

Such a school does exist, not in one remote corner, but in the state capital, Ranchi. Oxford Senior Secondary School (name changed) at Tate Silwai, affiliated to CBSE, charged 16000 rupees for two years. There were altogether close to 150 students; who took admission like Pashupati in Class XI, and not one student came to the school to study. Neither the attendance nor the exams were ever taken.

All was going well for eight months.

CBSE raided Oxford Senior secondary School and the affiliation was canceled. Pashupati came to Ranchi. He had to find another school. His parents were hopeful. He took Transfer Certificate from Oxford to State Academy another school at Ranchi itself that offered similar benefits. The school charged twenty eight thousand two hundred for this service. The breakdown is as under:

# 2 years school fees beginning from April 2005 19,200.00

@ 800.00 per month x 24 months

# Admission fees 7,000.00

# Tax 2,000.00

The parents have been trying to recover part of the money from Oxford Senior Secondary School, but in vain.

After one year, due to excessive rush the quality of education deteriorated at Resonance. The faculty according to Pashupati, was not competent. The batch strength was too high. The classes were not regular. The teachers rarely gave attention to the preparation of CBSE board examination. So he left Resonance and joined individual coaching for all the three subjects at Kota itself. Here the teachers were competent. The teacher to student ratio is now 1:40

15^th April 2007

Pashupati took the Senior Secondary Examination from State Academy in March 2007, though he did not attend the classes even for a day.

He expects around 50 to 60% marks. He does not want to enroll himself in a regular college. Even if he does not get admission in a good engineering college, he will drop for a year.

He has taken exams for IIT, VIT. And he is now preparing for AIEEE, MIT Manipal BITS Pilani, COMEDK and Bhartiya Vidyapeeth, Pune.

12 June 2007

The results are out. He got the following marks :

Physics 43

Chemistry 37

Maths 34

English 60

Physical Education 85

Expectations were shattered. He failed in two subjects, the theory papers of Chemistry and Physics. There is nothing that he can do except prepare once again for the Boards.

With his ranking in COMED K (an entrance test for engineering colleges in Karnataka) , he could have taken admission in a private college in Karnataka. But now he cannot apply as it mandatory that the student has cleared class XII.

No school will admit him in Class XII. He is now studying at home at Gaya.

25^th May 2008

Pashupati studied at home for one year.

He had two choices: one was to attend a regular school for one year or to be a private candidate that means he is eligible to take board exams without going to a school.

He used to study a minimum of three hours a day. He was forced to see only a few selected Tv programs.

No Internet.

No computer games.

No sports.

Saw only two feature films : Jodha Akbar and Tare Zamin Par.

According to his mother he is very intelligent but lacks concentration. However Pashupati, thinks he is a mediocre. He cannot sit on a chair for more than 30 minutes. He cannot read one page without dreaming about something else.

He results for Class XII has been declared. He passed this year with 64% marks, which is more than he expected.

The marks in the second Innings are as under:

Physics 60

Chemistry 64

Mathematics 33

Physical Education 71

English 91

His mother distributed sweets to all the relatives. I received through courier. She later in the evening went to a temple. The priest was handsomely rewarded.

Pashupati has taken the engineering exams of IIT, AIEEE, VIT, Manipal, COMED K ( Combined entrance test For Karnataka ) and Bharti Vidyapeeth.

The results of VIT ( Vellore Institute Of Technology) have been declared. He has not qualified. His rank is 40,000 out of 1,25,000 students who appeared. Close to 6000 students would be called for counseling.

In COMED K, there are more seats than students appearing in the exams. Thus he is certain that he will find a seat in one of the engineering colleges in Karnatka.

He is confident that he would not get through IIT. He has settled down in a private engineering College at Nagpur, by paying donations.

CHEAP INDIAN LABOURER

Bandhavgarh is associated with tiger. It was once a royal hunting ground. To cater the needs of the tourists, a property, on the outskirts of the Park, has been converted into a hotel.

Around the park, there are quite a few villages. Often the inhabitants knock at the doors of the hotel, for a job. However most of them don’t last more than a month.

A villager is offered a consolidated remuneration of two thousand five hundred rupees. No Perks. No Holidays. No allowances.

Reluctantly one agrees. The job is not defined. He is supposed to execute whatever the Manager asks. No questions asked.

On the first day of job, Bholanath, from an adjacent village, was asked to come to the hotel at dawn. That night he ate early and slept early. Woke up when it was still dark. Walked barefoot to the hotel, but arrived late by ten minutes.

The Manager summoned him. An explanation was demanded. Bholanath blamed his poverty, as he did not own a watch and a cycle. He was fined two hundred seventy-seven rupees, to be deducted from his remuneration. He pleaded. Amount was reduced to two hundred forty. Pleaded further. It was rounded off to one hundred and fifty rupees.

On the fifth day of his job, two tumblers made of crystal, were found to be broken. Bholanath was called. The manager blamed Bholanath. He in turn blamed lack of sleep, fragile glass and gravity. The Manager paid a deaf ear. Fine this time was five hundred sixty-five rupees.

Bholanath was fined one hundred ninety nine rupees one day, as the tea was not prepared as per specifications of the Manager. There should have been two spoons of sugar and one spoon of milk. Bholanath prepared the tea with one spoon of sugar and two spoons of milk. Bholanath blamed his illiteracy and memory.

Bholanath was shifted from kitchen to garden. It was summer. The grass was drying up. Each day he was supposed to water for two hours in the morning, and three hours in the evening. In-between, he was supposed to sweep the floor of the hotel.

There was an open well in the compound wall of the hotel, from where he was supposed to drink the water. Bholanath was not allowed to drink the filtered water from the kitchen, as it was meant for the guests. One day, Bholanath developed cramps. Instead of watering the grass, he was found defecating in the open. He was fined three hundred and thirty-nine rupees.

The Manager was physically exhausted one day, and ordered Bholanth to massage.

Bholanth politely declined on moral grounds, as the Manager was a spinster. If his wife comes to know of, it could affect the marriage. Fine this time was severe, three hundred rupees for disobeying her orders.

On twenty-sixth day, he switched on the pump to water the garden, and the motor was burnt due to loose connections. Bholanath was held responsible again. The cost of repair was borne by Bholanath. It came to six hundred and seventy-five rupees.

On completion of the month, Bholanath went to collect his salary. The Manager took out a register. All his fines were added. It came to two thousand two hundred and twenty eight rupees. He was asked to pay two hundred and seventy two rupees, as compensation. Bholanath pleaded. It was politely turned down.

A deal was finalized that Bholanath would work for additional five days without any remuneration.

On completion, Bholanath quit his job, even though the Mis(s)-Manager offered him a raise in salary.

FIRST PROFESSIONAL ASSIGNMENT

A Private sector company was keen to produce a corporate film, to promote the use of baby milk powder. A friend of mine was involved as Producer cum Cinematographer.

I was hired as an Assistant Cameraman. My job was to ensure that all the shots were in sharp focus, and to place the lights as desired by the Cinematographer.

For reasons unknown to me, a scene in the script demanded filming of childbirth. The location was fixed in a hospital. On the day of the filming, a pregnant lady, in her advanced stage was identified. Ideally we should have taken her concurrence, but we knew, she would refuse. Not one word was exchanged. It was a government hospital, where she was treated free of cost. She was embarrassed, but had no option.

The camera was meticulously placed, frontal, almost head on, to have a clear view. The doctor as well as the nurse was informed not to block the camera. I took precise measurements with a measuring tape, seven feet to begin with. As the baby emerges, I needed to switch focus to five and a half feet, so that the baby is in sharp focus through out the shot. To ensure, nothing goes wrong during shoot I took several rehearsals. I wish I had an opportunity; for a dry run.

The set up took close to an hour. We then waited for two hours. I was looking almost everywhere, except where I was paid to look at.

At last, the baby decided to see the light of the day. I wasn’t used to such a sight. It was repulsive. I wanted to run away. But how could I? I am supposed to be a professional.

However I couldn’t concentrate. For a fraction of a second, I looked at the ceiling. The focus went haywire. The Producer cum Cinematographer was obviously annoyed. I pleaded for a second take, if possible. I offered my services to identify another poor lady with labor pain. My request was politely turned down.

Later, in the evening, I was called by the Cinematographer. He offered me the remuneration for the day. But I was ashamed of myself. Because of my lack of concentration, the entire length of the shot could not be used. On the contrary, I wanted to compensate him for the losses. Being a struggler, I knew, I couldn’t do that.

I, however, didn’t accept the remuneration, for my first professional assignment.