TIMES CITYSUNDAY TIMES OF INDIA, CHENNAI
2 OCTOBER 10, 2010
CMYK
Neenu Ittyerah
Having grown upwith a mortal fearof mathematicsand physics, I al-
ways sank to my knees whena physicist, mathematician orengineer passed me by. I wasconvinced that the reason whythese subjects induced trepi-dation and torpor in me wasbecause I had judgmentalteachers, a genetic disinclina-tion for the sciences, and in-adequate cuddling during mygrowing years. I was thereforesurprised when I read on thenet that the Duke UniversityTalent Identification pro-gramme had discovered thatboys had higher abilities inmaths and scientific reason-ing while girls had higher abil-ities in verbal reasoning andwriting skills. See, that ex-plains why women can arguetheir way out of any situation,while men can calculate (at thespeed of light) whether thereis anything to be gained in ar-guing at all.
But jokes apart, what is itabout these subjects? Why arethousands of kids tying them-selves up in reef knots to makeit into engineering school? Doso many people really like en-gineering? Probably not. It’sjust that we have to choose ourcareers at an age when all wecare about is whether thepeach fuzz on our chins willever turn into John Abrahamstubble or whether we shouldget that tattoo on the shoulderor the hip. You make this cru-cial decision at a time whenyou are pretty clueless and,sadly enough, your parentscould be too. Most of us pre-sume that our kids should pur-sue the subjects he scores highmarks in, forgetting that marks
are often a reflection of com-prehension, and not interest.Many homes have witnessedcomplete meltdowns when anoffspring who has been scor-ing 90% in physics announcesthat he wants to do a BA in his-tory. That is as bad as declar-ing that you plan to earn a liv-ing playing the harpsichord.
If the parents go into acuteshock it’s simply because theyare scared witless that theirchild could end up as a 42-year-old who still needs an al-lowance. Fields such as medi-cine and engineering guaran-tee you jobs. This is becauseyou can always count on peo-ple to live irresponsibly andkeep your hospitals full, andwe are always going to needbetter bridges, locomotives, andcomputers because chances arethat we didn’t do a very goodjob on them in the first place.
It takes time for a child tofigure out what interests himor her, and we don’t give ourchildren that time, probablybecause it’s not ours to give.Every year, millions ofyoungsters come bursting outof engineering, medical andmanagement schools andsnap up the jobs.
Can we let our childrenflower slowly in the sun learn-ing sociology or political sci-ence, or deciding between ecol-ogy and the visual arts? But‘Will they just keep floweringor will they eventually bearfruit?’ is an apprehension par-ents don’t want to have to face.
I guess teenagers need towake up and smell the coffee.It’s a tough world, and that guywho made it into engineeringschool is going to be driving aHonda Civic before you hailyour next autorickshaw.
So if that sight is going toupset you, then think again.It takes longer to be the bestwildlife photographer than anengineer. Trying to get a tigerto pose for you, without be-coming its dinner, is actuallyeasier than selling that pho-tograph to buy your own din-ner. Some soul searching re-garding career choices isworth it because getting paidto do something you love is asgood as it gets.
(The writer is a governmentofficial who lives in Thiru-vananthapuram)
A touch of Bengal in Chennai
Sandhya Soman | TNN
The ideas are from Singaporeand Chennai, the planningdone over the internet, pho-
tographs taken in the Cauvery beltand the final product published inthe virtual world. That’s the story ofpoetryinstone.in, a bilingual blog onsouth Indian temple architecture runby a group of professionals scatteredacross the globe.
“We have no formal degrees inart,” says S Vijay Kumar, who runs
the non-profit site. All the group hasis a passion for ancient history, sculp-ture, and Tamil literature.
“We were brought together by thelively narration in Kalki Krishna-murthy’s historical novel ‘PonniyinSelvan’,” he says. After numerousdiscussions on the novel, Vijay start-ed writing about sculptures on aTamil e-group. Drawn by his writ-ing, IT professional Thirumalai Vasked Vijay to start a blog to reachout to more people.
The site, designed by Thiru-
malai, has text in both Tamil andEnglish. “We mostly write about pil-lars, gopurams and other fringestructures,” says Vijay.
The narration is simple, almoststory-like, and supported by visu-als. “Our objective is to attractyoungsters,” says Satheesh KumarR, a Kuwait-based engineer, whochips in with technical expertise.“Vijay picks interesting anecdotesto keep the reader hooked. He usesprops like key chains to show therelative size of a sculpture or astructure,” says Satheesh.
The effect is quite dramatic attimes. A post on ‘How Big is the BigTemple in Thanjavur?’ has a pho-tograph showing an elephant nextto a traditional door guardian. Theanimal is dwarfed by the huge sculp-ture, bringing out the mammothscale of the temple.
Each post takes a few hours to 15days to create, says IT professionalArvind V. “Once Vijay gets an idea,we discuss it over chat or mail,” saysbuilder-scholar Sundhar Bharadwaj.
Writer V Dhivakar, IT profes-sional Shriram Rajaram and in-
dustrial photographer Ashok Kr-ishnaswamy are part of the coregroup. Once an idea is finalised, theresearch starts. The group findstime during hectic workdays to readtomes on art history. Photos are shotand complex points fine-tuned byseniors Dhivakar and Bharadwajbefore the information is turnedinto a blog post.
They don’t leave any stone un-turned to get what they want ––whether it means carrying a fellowvolunteer on the shoulder to get a bet-ter shot of a sculpture or setting asidevacation plans with family to goscouting temple ruins in interiorTamil Nadu.
The efforts have paid off, saysDhivakar. “We discuss old hymns andconstruction techniques daily,” hesays. A post on a cave in Magalra-japuram got a comment from a Swissnational who sent a geo-tagged mapof similar sites across India. Youngreaders not only post comments butalso send in photographs of neigh-bourhood temples.
Shriram says readers have start-ed looking at temples as more thanjust pilgrimage spots. “They areplaces where one can learn aboutengineering, architecture, mythol-ogy, history, and ancient ways oflife,” he says.
Durga Puja Would Be Incomplete Without These Idolmakers Who Bring Clay From The GangaDevparna Acharya | TNN
he auditorium is abuzz with ac-tivity. A few men decorate the en-trance with flowers while othersput up signboards. Amidst thecommotion, a group of men workin utter concentration. They paintthe eyes of goddess Lakshmi, theireyes moving back and forth fromthe idol to the palate of colours.
Jiban Krishna Pal and his teamof sculptors have been comingfrom Hooghly in West Bengal toChennai every year since 1994 tomake idols for Durga puja. “An ac-quaintance referred me to the Ben-gal Association here,” says Jiban,who is busy at work in T Nagar. “Ihave been every year since then.”
For three months every year,Chennai is home to sculptors
like Jiban, who are broughtdown by the Bengali communi-ty in the city. “We want the idolsto look authentic,” says Dr An-jan Chakraborty, president ofthe association.
“Durga’s idol can’t be madewith any mati (clay). You needGanga’s mati or else it will crack,”says Jiban, adding that they bring20 to 25 bags of it every year tofashion the idols. “Paint, hair,clothes — everything is broughtfrom Kolkata,” he says.
Not far away, Rinku and DevenPal, idol-makers from Baghda, arehard at work. “Our father Kishori
Mohan Pal first came to Chennai30 years ago and we are continu-ing the tradition,” says Deven.“We were not ready to take on thisorder but the association mem-bers insisted and we have just aday to finish it,” he adds, beforehe goes back to shaping the fin-gers of the goddess.
Making an idol takes about 15days. “We start by shaping the idolswith bamboo sticks and hay. Thenthey are given a clay coating andleft to dry. A coat of clay is appliedafter a day or two,” says Jiban.
According to him, this is thetrickiest part. “We coat it with plas-ter of paris only if the shape isflawless,” he says. “And we paygreat attention to the facial fea-tures — eyes, cheeks and nose —to ensure they are perfect,” headds. Then the idols are painted.
“Every goddess has a differentcolour. Kali can be only blue whileDurga is always painted pink. Sim-ilarly, we have colours for Ganesh,Lakshmi and Saraswati,” saysRinku. The paints and dyes aremade by the sculptors. “After all,
it is for the goddess and her fami-ly,” they say, with reverence.
The demand for idols has goneup in the last five years. “In 1994,the demand was only for a fewidols. This year, I have made 30,”says Jiban, whose idols are sup-plied to Kalpakkam, Kolathur andTiruchi. “My father, who is inCoimbatore, will visit Vellore andTiruchi as the Bengali communi-ties have invited him,” says Rinku.
Apart from the money theymake, working on the idols is alsoa matter of great pride for these
artisans. “When I first came herein 1994, I was learning to sculpt.Then there was the excitementand adrenaline rush in makingthe best idols,” says Jiban. “NowI am so sure of my strokes that Ican paint the goddess’ eyes withmy eyes closed.”
Once the Durga idols aremoved out of their sheds and intothe various pandals across the city,these men are forgotten. But thegoddess comes again next year,and so do the artisans.
devparna.acharya@timesgroup
Making careerchoices isdifficult at anage when youare agonisingover whether to get a tattoo
T
DESIGNS IN CLAY: An artisan gives final touches to a Lakshmi idol at Bengal Association office; (below left) Jiban Krishna Pal and Rinku Pal (secondpicture from right) have been coming down regularly during Durga puja as their traditional skills are sought after by the Bengali community here
WINDOW TO THE PAST: Volunteers go on field trips to collect information
THE DEMAND FOR IDOLS HAS GONEUP IN THE LAST FIVE YEARS. IN 1994,ONLY A FEW IDOLS WERE NEEDED.THIS YEAR, ARTISANS LIKE JIBANKRISHNA PAL HAVE MADE 30.
From pillarto postA group of professionals pursue theirpassion for ancient architecture throughpoetryinstone.in, a bilingual blog
Pics: C Sueresh Kumar
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know of are in medical college, andmore than 40 doing engineering cours-es. Dharavi is inclusive and cosmopoli-tan, home to the poor and the better-off, and most people are self-employed.Dharavi stands as testimony to thesweat and toil of the poor and the pul-sating energy of entrepreneurs.”
This is not a tale of despair andhumiliation. It is an inspiring story ofpoor people who have risen throughgrit and determination, seizing urbanopportunities. It’s another matter thatthe government has been woefullyremiss in providing infrastructure andsocial services. But these are govern-ment failures everywhere, not just inslums.
In the 19th centur Charles Dickenspainted horrendous pictures ofLondon’s slums, and American writersbemoaned the slums of New York.These writers failed to see that the fun-damental dynamism of slums would intime convert shanty-towns into prizereal estate. Many Indians make thesame mistake about our own slums.Some prefer the Chinese route of bull-dozing slums and forcing migrants toreturn to villages. But I agree withSPARC that slum redevelopment mustbe done in democratic consultationwith slumdwellers.
The government has failed to domuch to uplift the poor, but slums havedone so. Land reforms have failed wide-ly to legally distribute land to the poor.But by simply allowing and often legal-ising unauthorised encroachments,state governments have distributedland to millions of poor people. This isobviously far from ideal: efficient,benevolent governments would havedone the job much better. But sincegovernments are neither efficient norbenevolent, this is a way forward.
The economist, Hernando de Soto,said the real problem of the poor was
lack of legal title to their unauthorisedplots. Without title, they fear demolition,lack the confidence to build pukkastructures, and cannot mortgage theirland to get loans. But in India, democra-cy ensures that governments rarelyrarelydemolish shanty towns; indeed theyregularize many encroachments beforeevery election. More land has been dis-tributed to the poor by governmentsthrough this route than through formalpoverty alleviation schemes.
I am oversimplifying, of course. Manyslum-dwellers have been moved to newsites far from their workplaces. In othercases slums are controlled by mafiaslumlords. Nevertheless, slums havebeen dynamos of preductivit socialmobility and poverty reduction.
So, by all means let us have structur-al reforms that yield better-governed,better-run cities. We need better roads,electricity and water supply. But if citiesare to perform their critical function ofsocial mobility we also need moreslums like Dharavi. These should beimproved, upgraded slums, but slumsnevertheless.
more slums. These are the entry pointsof the poor into urban havens of oppor-tunity. When urban land costs croresper plot, the poor can’t dream of buyingland. Cities lack the funds for evenbasic facilities, let alone massive publichousing. So, rural migrants encroach onpublic land, creating shanty towns.These slums are eyesores: just lookingat them makes urban folk shudder. Yetthis should drive home to the elite howtruly wretched rural India must be ifpoor people see more hope in filthyurban shanties than in the countryside.
Many visitors think the slums ofKolkata are hell-holes. On the otherhand, visitors are enthralled by thebeauty of Naxalbari, full of green paddyfields, bamboo groves and ponds. Yet,invisible to the elite eye, conditions inNaxalban were horrendous enough tospark a massive Maoist uprising in 1967.Many poor folk from Naxalbari migratedto Kolkata: for them, its supposed hell-holes were refuges from rural oppres-sion and a path to prosperity.
If we provide infrastructure to allsmall towns, many will become mag-nets for rural migrants. we must not
have migration to metropolitan citiesalone. Indeed, many large villages willturn into towns if only we provide theminfrastructure. This will be urbanisationwithout migration.
Some optimists think that theanswer is to make rural areas prosper-ous. This is escapism. India has 160 mil-lion hectares of cultivable land for 1,250million people, one-eighth of a hectareacre per person. Even if the urbanshare of the population doubles fromtoday’s 30 per cent to 60 per cent, ruralland availability will be just one-third ofa hectare per person. This is a recipefor endless poverty, and cannot be fixedby endless subsidies. The rural poorknow this and so migrate, but urbanelites remain in denial. They want thepoor to somehow remain rural and notinundate their cities. That, to put it sim-ply, is both callous and escapist.
some people see slums as hubs ofsub-human existence and humiliation.But it is necessary to see beyond thesurface filth. Dharavi in Mumbai haslong been called the world’s biggestslum, with six Iakh people crammedinto 175 hectares of swamps. Far from
being a hub of despair, it is nowMumbai’s biggest industrial centre,humming with activity after all itsfamed textile mills have closed. Dharavihas 15,000 one-roomed factories, pro-ducing $ 600 million of goods and serv-ices.
FUTUREL A V A S A C I T I E Sm association �ith THE TIMES OF INDIA
SPARC, an NGO dealing with slums,describes Dharavi well. “Here you willfind an astonishingly wide range of eco-nomic activity — — from those who makeidlis to potters to tanners to manufac-turers of airline cutlery and crockery. InDbaravi, there is a place for everybodyand there is always always work to be found.There are workers who make only Rs.300 a month and there are a few few entre-preneurs who even earn Rs. 300,000 amonth. Today, 21 children of Dharavi we
_______ W
hat constitutes��� the perfect city?
______ Ii’s easy to make
______ a list of utopian must-haves: electricity andwater round the clock;
__________
unpolluted air; plentifulroad space for cars, bicy-cles and pedestrians; good
educational and health facilities; lots ofparks and museums. Those with aninstitutional mind-set will argue forelected mayors with strong tax andadministrative powers, giving them inde-pendence from callous state capitals.
No matter how desirable, suchutopian longings fail to place cities inthe context of a poor, overwhelminglyrural society. Cities must not be eliteislands in a rural sea of despond. Theymust provide income and social laddersfor the poor and unskilled to climb up.Cities must be havens of opportunityfor those without opportunity in ruraland tribal settings.
This has an implication that willmake many blanch — — we must have
FUTUREL A V A S A C I T I E S
> Swaminathan S Anklesana Aiyar isknown for his ability to demystify eco-nomics, and he does so mmost effectivelyin his STOI column, Swarninomics’ He isthe regular Budget expert on Times Nowand ET Now. Stephen Cohen of theBrookings Institution anointed him‘India’s leading economic journalist’. Hehas been editor of The Economic Timesand Financial Express, and was also theIndia correspondent of The Economist fortwo decades. He has frequently been aconsultant to the World Bank and AsianIJevelopment Bank.
A A TOl and LAVASA Special FeatureThis thought leadership series aims to
present the views of thinkers and opinionmakers on why India needs new cities.
> URBAN LONGINGS - 10
No, Sir, slums arenot j ust eyesoresMany large villages will turn into towns if only we provide them theinfrastructure for job creation. But migration cannot be wished away either.And it is equally specious to think that the slums which grow as a result arehell-holes of despair. Dharavi is now Mumbai’s biggest industrial centre,humming with activity after all its famed textile mills have closed. It has15,000 one-roomed factories, producing $ 600 million of goods andservices. More important, it is inclusive and cosmopolitan.
> Swam inathan S Ankles aria Aiyar more slums. These are the entry points
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