Tuesday, July 24, 2012

In-corruptible in the absence of law.

Why should we refrain from corruption?

Is it because of legal consequences? Or is it because of being wary of  pissing off some supernatural being who monitors our every deed?

Or is it simply because we know it is ethically the right thing to do?

Corruption is a major factor impeding economic development in developing countries, but the importance of legal enforcement versus cultural norms in controlling corruption is poorly understood. In 2006 a simple study was undertaken to understand cultural attitudes towards corruption. And what better place than the United Nations, where  thousands of diplomats from more than 146 countries have immunity. Which also means they cannot be arrested or served warrants for traffic offences. Offenders are expected to pay fines and penalties voluntarily.

This gave an excellent opportunity for Ray Fisman and Edward Miguel to study attitudes of individuals towards the law when it's enforcement was absent.
The act of parking illegally fits remarkably well with a standard definition of corruption, i.e., “the abuse of entrusted power for private gain,”2 suggesting that the comparison of parking violations by diplomats from different societies serves as a credible measure of the extent of corruption cultural norms.
The findings were interesting. Some societies have a much casual attitude towards corruption and these attitudes reflected in the results. 

Between 1992 and 2002 Kuwait ranked the highest with 246.2 unpaid parking tickets per diplomat, they had 9 diplomats. Pakistan was ranked 10th,  India was way below at 79th with 6.1 tickets for 18 diplomats.

What was most interesting was diplomats from countries with low corruption rates had lower number of unpaid parking tickets and diplomats behaved in almost the same manner as government  officials in their home country. 

I believe that our cultures mould our attitudes towards corruption. No amount of laws can change attitudes. Attitudes  can only be changed with awareness and education. 


Controlling corruption with legal enforcement without change in the attitudes will be infeasible for developing nations. 


The full research paper is available from  here. Cultures of Corruption: Evidence from Diplomatic Parking Tickets









Thursday, March 01, 2012

Running the last leg.

Yesterday began quite unusually for me. The day before, on 28th February, I had to visit my GP. We have all been stressed out the entire week on the occasion of the so-called "Entrance Exam"  to the 7th grade for my 12-year old son. I had to reach the school by 9am on the 29th Feb. My body translated all this stress by increasing my blood pressure a few notches above the usual. The doc asked me to take a break and relax. Sure. Why not?

That day, the  29th of Feb, 2012, would come to be known as the most exciting day in my life and the life of a three year old little boy named Justin.

I excused myself from the the usual ritualistic Sharjah-to-Dubai, bumper-to-bumper tribal dance and headed off to the Dubai via the E611. And  managed to get Suhail exactly 3 minutes before his exam.

12:10PM: Suhail’s exam was easy. I drove him back to Sharjah and reached home by around 1:20pm. We live on the first floor apartment of a 9-storied building. I was getting ready to have lunch with my son when the lady next door rang our door bell and timidly enquired If I  had heard any strange noises or anyone screaming from my bedroom toilet. I quickly went to the toilet and opened the small window that opened to the air vent. A gust of smoke entered the room and I heard a faint scream. My heart froze and knew immediately that there was someone in distress on a floor above ours. But it was impossible to know which floor. We went downstairs to the lobby, and to the watchman's room to alert him of the incident. I asked Suhail to remain on the Ground floor and rode the elevator up to the 9th floor and took the emergency stairs down checking each floor for signs of smoke.

The fire had broken out on a 6th floor apartment. Which happens to have the exact same layout as our apartment on the 1st floor.  A mission critical piece of information which was a great help later on.

Smoke was bellowing out through the door onto the corridor. Visibility was about a feet in front. By then a few more men had arrived and broke open the door that was bent out of shape from the intense heat.



I knew the location of the CO2 cylinder near the emergency exit. And most importantly I knew how to use and identify the cylinders. (Thanks to those day-long Civil Defense awareness campaigns held at Abu Dhabi Indian School back in 1988). Some men had dragged an elderly woman out on to the corridor. She was half unconscious and covered completely in soot. But she was moving. Someone was uncoiling the fire hose and turning on the water line. I instructed him to stop doing that, since the power supply to the apartment was still on, and would add on to the disaster. I pushed him off to the side and took hold of the black Co2 cylinder. I dragged it over to the door, probably stepping over the poor woman on the floor and came up to the apartment doorway. 


Smoke and soot was bellowing from the room. The men who came to help was leaving the room coughing and dragging the unconscious women with them away from smoke and fumes. I was running out of breath and my lungs felt compressed. Images of my mother flashed through my head. (She had extinguished a similar fire 20 years ago in Abu Dhabi). I was overcome with extra-ordinary strength, the sort of strength I got when I ran the last leg of those 400 meter relay races back in high-school. I entered the doorway; flames were emanating from a sofa in the centre of the living room. It was about two meters in the air. The rest of the room was just thick smoke. I aimed the nozzle at the base of the flames and squeezed the trigger, emptying some of the foam onto the flames. I could not stay there much longer, I had run out of breath and my heart was on over-drive. Images of my own children, Hannah Maya and Suhail, flashed in front of me. For a moment I even doubted if I was really doing any of this. I fell on the floor, where the air was much clearer and took a deep breath of air, some soot entered my mouth and I choked. The air was stale but felt much better, sweeter. I helped the men drag the heavy woman back to the stairway. More people had come over to help and we raced down to the ground floor.

We laid the woman on the floor below; And I slumped to the floor. Someone brought a bottle of water. I don’t remember if I took a sip. The woman was mumbling something in Malayalam. "Child" or "Children" !!!.

Oh crap!!!  “So there is a child in the flat !!!”  And then she said "Bathroom !!". I did not have the strength to take the stairs. Two men joined me and we took the elevator back to the 6th floor. Yeah I know you shouldn’t take the elevator during a fire, try telling that to my legs.

I removed my Shirt and covered my mouth and face. I asked the men accompanying me to do the same. I told them that we have to search the toilets as quickly as possible. The only source of light was our mobile phones. The elevator door opened and, I took a deep breath and raced towards the apartment. The power to the apartment had already been been turned off. It was pitch dark. The flames had died down but the fumes were thicker than before. It was as if I was diving under water, I could hear my heart beat. The mild illumination of our mobile phone were just that: Mild illuminations. The apartment is exactly the same as my apartment on the first floor. I did not need illumination to navigate through the rooms.  I stooped lower to breath the pockets of clear air that seemed to appear within  the clouds. I opened the guest toilet door. Nothing. The morbid fear of finding the charred remains of a child did pass my mind. But I was there to do a job. Find the child, dead or alive. I went in to the attached toilet in the master bed-room. The door was open but was pushing against something soft. 



The limp body of a child was blocking the door. I pulled and picked up the child by his leg. As soon as I had lifted him up, the child urinated, he was alive and moving, but unconscious. I held on to him, and stood there. My lungs were completely depleted of oxygen. There was nothing more to breath, I was out of strength and oxygen, but a strange sense of tranquility had settled on me. I could not hear anything.  I saw 32 Bit HDR colours in splashing brilliance. The crowds were cheering in Sh. Zayed Stadium, I saw the white parallel lanes of on rubberized tracks,  I could hear the panting breath and rhythmic footsteps of the runners behind me. And a voice inside me told me “Nishad !! the last 80 meters is just a few leaps away. Don't you drop that aluminium  baton boy, we are almost there”. I saw the thin white ribbon across the finish line and kept up the pace. But I wasn't running, I was hanging on to my heart from giving up. My legs moved towards the open door. And I came out through the corridor holding the child close to me. I stumbled towards the stairway, and took a deep breath of fresh air. The men pulled me on to the elevator.  I thought I would rather die climbing down the stairway than being stuck in a smoky elevator. The entire rescue would have happened in two minutes or less. But it seemed, to me,  like an entire hour. An hour of suffocation and near deathly struggle.

I reached the ground floor and laid the child out on the floor. He was struggling to breath, his eyes rolled  back. I held his nose and breathed into his open mouth. His chest rose and fell. I blew again and again. The child coughed and spat out thick black sputum. I breathed a sigh of relief and fell to my side. Some neighbours held the child and held his head to the side while I helped him breath. I looked and saw so many people had gathered around. Some calling the emergency services, some taking pictures. The Police had already arrived and was clearing the crowds, Civil Defense, and Ambulance service arrived within a few minutes and took the child along with me and a neighbour to the nearest trauma centre. The elderly woman was taken on a separate ambulance.

We arrived at the hospital and the waiting emergency team whisked the child away. I was deeply moved and overwhelmed with tears of happiness to see the child in safe hands. I knew for sure that he would be safe now. I did not know his name or his parents. But the authorities told me they would take care of everything. I was asked to go home and rest,  I looked like I had just stepped out of a coal mine. I was trembling and my BP was probably overshot.

Before I left I was allowed to see him in the ICU.  As of now the child is out of danger and is breathing on his own with some difficulty. The woman seems to be in a slightly worse condition. She has some breathing difficulty. The parents of the child wept and embraced me like some divine saviour. I am not used to such display of emotions. But I found myself weeping along with them. I was overcome by a strange feeling of achievement. An achievement I will surely cherish for the rest of my life.

Towards the end of all this commotion  I had completely forgotten about my blood pressure, the headache I was complaining about, and the minor back pain I had the previous day.

I still don’t know a lot of the details of how I managed to do any of the things I did. I don’t even know if most of the things I did was in that order. Everything is just a cloudy memory. Most of what I have written here is from what others told me of my actions. Friends and neighbours gathered later that evening and gave many accounts of what happened, and how I did those things. I still don’t know if at all I did any of those things.  



All what I could clearly remember was entering the smouldering apartment,  running a 400 meter relay race and returning back with an aluminium baton that I would not part with.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Exploring the ancient Stone huts in Wadi Bih

Stone house on the Mountain, Wadi Bih RAK
Stone house on the Mountain, Wadi Bih RAK,  probably recently constructed. Visible from the main road. 
After almost a year of lethargic inactivity, yesterday I decided to explore the mountains of Ras Al Khaimah, where most of the off-road terrain still remain undisturbed by tourists and trekkers. The gently undulating Ophiolite mountains are dotted with the occasional guff (Prosopis cineraria) and Sayyal (Acacia tortillis).

Evidence of ancient  human settlement can still be glimpsed in the remaining cairns and tombstones. According to the  Department of Antiquities, the period of human settlement must have been between BC 5000 to BC500. The closest location to see these stone structures is Wadi Bih, a short drive from Ras Al Khaimah heading East towards the UAE-Oman border. 

Wadi Bih,
The interior of one of the stone huts.  
Wadi Bih, Grave yard
The view from the  ruined stone huts over-looking the graveyard, Wadi bih
The Hajjar Mountain Range  peaks in Musandam in Oman  and extends south through the UAE back into Oman, forming a natural  demarcation  between Oman and UAE.  This mountain  has contributed a most essential resource in the massive construction boom in UAE.  Every grain of sand for those skyscrapers and bridges and every rock dropped in the Gulf  to form all those islands owe their existence to these majestic mountains.

The Building material
Ophiolite Mountain Wadi Bih
Ophiolite Mountain in Bih. 
Notice the straight cuts that can be easily used 
for construction.

Ophiolite
Ophiolite mountain in Musandum, Oman
Having seen and photographed several ophiolite mountains in Oman and UAE I can appreciate the importance of this fundamental civil engineering resource which was skilfully employed by the early settlers to this region.

Periodic volcanic eruptions and subsequent ash fall-out over the cooling lava forms several sequential layers of deposits. Seismic plate movements have pushed the Hajjar higher and formed these wrinkels in the rock.  The layered outcrops have softer shale and soil deposits sandwiched between rock which forms natural straight cuts when cracked open. The stones used in building the cairn and cabins have these natural straight cuts that are of similar thickness.


Wadi Bih General View
General View of the area explored. Wadi Bih
Several cairn can be seen along the road in Wadi Bih. Although some of these appear to be  constructed  quite recently, there are still a few ancient ones deep in the valleys.

There seems to be some agreement on the purpose of these structures among the  locals who assert that these were constructed as winter homes.  I did observe four large rectangular stone huts (approx 2.5m by 2m). All of them had lintels  over the doorway to support a roof. Remains of long broken stone (beams?)  were seen inside the hut, suggesting a roof collapse.


 The smaller Stone Structures
Wadi Bih, Small stone structures 1
Another small stone structure  approx. 160cm X 90cm
Although The larger structures do appear to be stone cabins, what fascinated me most was the smaller structures (1mX1m ) which seemed too small for any practical use. Identical in form and stone setting and lintels over the doorway.

Wadi Bih, Small stone structures 1
Small structure with lintel over the opening.
Size approx.120cm X 80cm.
The stone huts were overlooking a graveyard with about a few dozen graves. These settlements were clearly  pre-islamic since many of these graves faced the West rather than towards Mecca.

So it can be safely assumed that the smaller structures were not meant to be graves for the commoner. Perhaps these could be places to worship or abode for the spirits of the recently deceased. I could not find any excavation reports or studies conducted on these small structures, like those conducted on the more popular Hili and Shimal tombs.

Wadi Bih is close to Ras Al Khaimah and poses the risk of being over-run by "development". It's fragile natural tranquillity may not remain undisturbed for long. Many stone quarries operate in Ras al Khaimah and several new roads are being constructed to quicken the pace of dismantling the mountains to make high-rise buildings in the city. The abandoned villages and any remaining traces of ancient human settlements may be completely lost to future generations.

Sunday, January 08, 2012

ജയചന്ദ്രന്റെ വക കൊലവെറി.


നൂറിലേറെ  ഹോളിവുഡ് ഹോറർ ചിത്രങ്ങളിൽ അഭിനയിച്ച് നടനാണു ബെല്ല ലുഗോസി. ലുഗോസിയുടേ ശോഭയും സാമ്പത്തും മങ്ങി തുടങ്ങിയതോടെ ഹോളിവുഡ്ഡിലെ ഏറ്റവും മോശം  സംവിധായകൻ എന്നറിയപ്പെടുന്ന എഡ് വൂഡ് ജുനിയർന്റെ സിനിമകളിൽ അഭിനയിക്കേണ്ട ഗതികേടു വന്നു.


അമൃത ടി വി യുടെ പാട്ടു പരുപാടിയുടേ  പരസ്യത്തിനു വേണ്ടി "Why this kolaveri di" എന്ന പാട്ടിനെ ചൊല്ലി  ശ്രീ ജയചന്ദ്രൻ  അവതരിപ്പിക്കുന്ന കൃതൃമ വിവാദവും ഏതാണ്ടു് അതേ പോലെയാണു.
കൊലവെറി എന്ന പാട്ടിനെ ചൊല്ലി ഒരു വിവാദം ഉണ്ടാക്കി പ്രേക്ഷകരെ വിളിച്ചുകൂട്ടാനുള്ള ഈ പരിപാടി വളരെ തന്ത്രപരമായി ആസൂത്രണം ചെയ്തതാണു എന്നു എനിക്ക് തോന്നുന്നു.

വരാൻ പോകുന്ന പരിപാടിയുടേ promo ആയിട്ടാണു ഈ രംഗം അമൃത ടിവി കാണിക്കുന്നതു്.


  • Frame 1. പാട്ടു് ആരംഭിക്കുന്നു. (ഇതിനു മുമ്പ് lightഉം ശബ്ദവും ഒക്കെ test ചെയ്തു് ചിലപ്പോൾ rehearsalഉം check ചെയ്തിട്ടുണ്ടാകും) 
  • Frame 2. ജയചന്ദ്രൻ ആശ്ചര്യത്തോടെ എടം വലം നോക്കുന്നു. ആസനത്തിൽ കുരുപോട്ടിയതുപോലെ കസേരയിൽ ഇരുനു നിരങ്ങുന്നു. 
  • Frame 3: പാട്ടു തുടരുന്നു.
  • Frame 4: "ഇതാര പാടൻ പറഞ്ഞതു്? ഞാൻ പോകുവ" അങ്ങനെ  യാതൊരു originalityയും ഇല്ലാത്ത അഭിനയം കാഴ്ചവെച്ചുകൊണ്ടു ജയചന്ദ്രൻ എഴുനേറ്റു് പോകുന്നു. സംഘാടകർ അദ്ദേഹത്തെ പറഞ്ഞു സമാധാനിപ്പിക്കാൻ ശ്രമിക്കുന്നു. Heart beat effect with quick cuts > Signature frame > end. 


ഇതുപോലെ പണ്ടു WWF (World Wrestling Federation)ന്റെ  പതിനായിരക്കണക്കിനു നാടക പരിപാടികൾ കണ്ടിട്ടുണ്ടു്. അതിലൊന്നും ഇത്രയും മോശമായ അഭിനയം കണ്ടിട്ടില്ല. നല്ല പാട്ടുകാരൻ നടൻ ആയിരിക്കണം എന്നു ആരും വാശിപിടിക്കില്ല. പക്ഷെ ഇങ്ങനെ എന്തെങ്കിലും തട്ടി കൂട്ടുമ്പോൾ അതും കൂടി ശ്രദ്ധിക്കണം.

എത്ര നല്ല പാട്ടുകാരനാണു് ശ്രീ ജയചന്ദ്രൻ, അവസാനം പാട്ടിൽ നിന്നുമുള്ള വരുമാനം നിലച്ചപ്പോൾ Amrutha TVയുടേ തറ Marketing planകൾ അനുസരിച്ചു് യുവതലമുറയോടു് പാട്ടു പാടരുതെന്നു (നാടകത്തിൽ കൂടി) പറയേണ്ടി വന്നു. ഒരു കലാകാരനും ഈ ഗതികേടു വരാതിരിക്കട്ടെ.

ഇനി ഇതൊന്നും നാടകം അല്ലായിരുന്നു എന്നു തന്നെ കരുതാം: അവിടെയാണു ഏറ്റവും വലിയ പ്രശ്നം.

കൊലവെറി എന്ന പാട്ടിന്റെ മേന്മയെ കുറിച്ച് പറയാൻ ജയചന്ദ്രൻ തീർച്ചയായും യോഗ്യനാണു്. പാട്ടു അവസാനിച്ച ശേഷം അഭിപ്രായം പ്രകടിപ്പിക്കാമായിരുന്നു. മാർക്ക് കൊടുക്കാതിരിക്കാമായിരുന്നു.  പക്ഷെ ആ പാട്ട് പാടരുതു് എന്നു പറയാൻ ജയചന്ദ്രൻ എന്നുമാത്രമല്ല മലയാള സംഗീതത്തിന്റെ so-called പടച്ചതമ്പുരാൻ ശ്രീ  ഗാനഗന്ധർവ്വനു് പോലും യാതൊരു അധികാരവുമില്ല. ഏതു പാട്ടും എങ്ങനെ വേണമെങ്കിലും പാടാൻ എല്ലാവർക്കും അവകാശമുണ്ടു്. പാടരുതു് എന്നു പറയുന്നതു് ആവിഷ്കാര സ്വാതന്ത്ര്യത്തിന്റെ അടിച്ചമർത്തലാണു, elitism ആണു. Fascism ആണു.

ലോകം മുന്നോട്ടു് പോകുമ്പോൾ കലയേയും സംഗീതത്തേയും പുറകോട്ട് വലിച്ചു കെട്ടാൻ ഇങ്ങനെ കുറെ താപ്പാനകൾ ഉള്ളതാണു കേരളത്തിന്റെ സാംസ്കാരിക ശാപം.

Saturday, January 07, 2012

Letters to the Editor

 (Image courtesty The Wall Street Journal)
To the Editor
The Hindu, Delhi Edition


Okay we both know for a fact that the congress leadership comprises of dim witted sycophants living off of cheap thrills of promos and press ads, but you run one of the few remaining bastions of unbiased journalism that prints objective comentaries in its editorial. The news of course is mostly copy pasted from each other and is probably colder than last weeks McDonalnds fries, but I digress.


A full page front page ad with a blurb sucking up to Sonia Gandhi?  What  came over you guys? Who does that sort of thing? Is Mr. N. Ram still running the show? Don't you have standards to keep even in advertising? I do realize the need for ad revenue to sustain a dying media, but this was a total sell out. 


My rating of respect for your paper has dropped from 4 to 2 (that's out of 10 by the way!). This probably must have been an all time low for a newspaper like yours. I am sure folks will be throwing this shit at you for years to come. Enjoy it.


Cheers.