Book Review: The Beast With Nine Billion Feet by Anil Menon

Anil Menon's The Beast With Nine Billion Feet uses "opposites" to tell its story. At the most primary level this is a story of social and ethical issues about genetic engineering. This is depicted through the covert war between two groups: one wants to make genetic engineering affordable and used for public good. It believes in propagating its boons through something similar to the current open source movement in software and is against manipulating genes to create creatures for entertainment, or engineering humans with special abilities. The other group believes such engineering is the future of the world — thus the single seed, which depending on the fertilizer can be "programmed" to grow three different kind of crops or the attempt to make humans immortal. This group also believes in monopolizing the IPR for their genetically modified creations.

This ethical dilemma and the major conflict of the novel plays out through the lives of a pair of siblings, Tara and Aditya (Adi) who are opposites of each other. Tara, the younger sibling, is a voracious reader, takes school seriously and is extremely grounded in the physical world around her. She loves her aunt, Sita, and her two friends, the twins, Ria and Francis. Her brother, Adi, on the other hand, is hooked on to virtual worlds through "illusion tech," and can't read, doesn't believe in formal education but is a genius self-taught genetic engineer. Adi finds acceptance in his virtual friends, his "posse," with whom he has worked on some genetic engineering projects. Adi also dreams of emigrating to Nurth, an artificial island near the North Pole, which believes genetic engineering of humans is the future.

The siblings' personal lives and relationships become twined in the ideological conflict around genetics engineering. Adi's mentor and friend, Vispala employs any means necessary in her pursuit for immortality. Vispala, as a diplomat from Nurth on a special mission to India, tries to kill Sivan's movement and get the Indian Government to accept Nurth's engineered life-forms. The siblings' scientist-politician father, Sivan, who earlier had been declared a terrorist for promoting "Free Life Movement" in genetics, returns from his exile after a presidential pardon to thwart Vispala's plans. Vispala is also convinced that Sivan knows the secret of longevity and is determined to wrest it from him. As Mandira, she comes to Pune, where Tara and Adi stay, with her twin children, Ria and Francis, who befriend Tara. Meanwhile Adi's resentment, partly fueled by Vispala, against his long-absent father and his ideology grows.

Who succeeds in their plans? The ruthless Vispala or the sagacious Sivan? Which of them is right? The Beast With Nine Billion Feet doesn't ostensibly take sides with anyone. It does not provide tidy answers to the questions it raises. Both Sivan and Vispala/Mandira lose some and win some. While it does raise a few questions, the inconclusive and mixed ending seems to tell readers to decide for themselves the ideology that appeals to them.

The Beast With Nine Billion Feet belongs to a sub-genre in science fiction called mundane SF — like most SF books this is set in the future but not centuries away. The novel is set in a world 30 years from now — a future that is almost tangible. Also while we have some typical sci-fi tech and concepts as a part of life — visors that spew information on the world around, genetically engineered nictating eyelids that perform a function similar to the visors, smart homes that talk, cars with AI that need to be praised, illusion pods that can transport a user virtually to another place where the avatar can touch and feel things and interact with others, and a wonderful history class set in an experience lab — it is the mundane, everyday life which is the focus Tara's problems at school, her history classes and her feelings about Sanskrit, the need for the siblings and their aunt to scrimp and manage their limited money, Tara's relationship with her friends - the twins, the rise and win of the Vermillion party and its strident manifesto in politics. It is in the interplay of these two "worlds" that the novel also focuses on an issue that is of much importance today — the ethics of biotechnology and genetic engineering. All this make the book quite interesting.

About the only quibble I have with The Beast With Nine Billion Feet is its use of its milieu. The story plays out in Pune in Maharashtra, India. For an Indian sci-fi book, there is very little of the setting in the story — few references to Appa Balwant Chowk, one mention of Shaniwarwada, a quick dash to Matheran and a passing mention of Mumbai. Nothing much else of Pune or India seep through into the story.

Do read the The Beast With Nine Billion Feet if you like science fiction and especially if you are interested in mundane SF. The book takes a look at a slice of the future which is near at hand and at an issue of today which possibly will be a bigger dilemma in the future.

To Delhi, Agra, and Back

Photoset | Slideshow

I visited the nation's capital, New Delhi, between 17th-22nd August, 2011. The trip wasn't the usual "touristy" one — the primary purpose was to spend some time with close friends who have made Delhi their base. We did manage to visit a couple of spots frequented by tourists. A goodish bit of the other time was spent in staying inside to avoid Delhi's hot and sticky weather (I kid you not, the amount of rain I experienced in Delhi over five days was less than what you get in Mumbai under five minutes. Much of the remaining other time was spent in hunting for "Spicy Treat" Uncle Chipps chips and for Wai Wai Chicken Noodles at the behest of my favorite (and only) niece.  She has recently moved back to Mumbai from Delhi and was craving these two treats that remind her of the city in which she lived for over decade.

(In keeping with my recent bullet-point posts) More observations from the Trip:

• I had booked myself a return trip, with much enthusiasm, on the Mumbai-New Delhi Rajdhani Express. The Rajdhani Express experience is no longer what it was earlier. The journey from Mumbai started on a promising note. I had booked myself a "side-lower" berth (I prefer the seats on the sides — easiest way to avoid other pesky passengers) and the person with the seat opposite to me (side-upper) didn't turn up —  a whole lot of leg space. On my return trip, that wasn't the case and I found that in the Rajdhani, the side seats are extremely cramped. That was not the case on the trains I took during my earlier trip a couple of weeks ago to my birth place. I feel the trains are newer and the compartments better designed on the Mumbai-Nagpur route. The service on the Rajdhani Express to Delhi was excellent. The food, apart from the pre-packaged stuff, was barely passable. On my return trip, the service was atrocious with the serving staff bordering on the rude. The food however was great. It is also amusing to find that despite announcements asking people to refrain from tipping the staff, the "cabin crew" still actively solicits tips.
• Delhi (I was visiting after a little more that 2 years) has in many ways changed for the better - good roads, much cleaner, a whole lot of greenery all around, and even better air quality. The traffic and the driving though is still atrocious. Cars jump red lights with impunity and there is no telling when a car ahead of you (or behind you) will change lanes. Most vehicles are on the road with a single purpose — getting ahead at over 100 KMPH.
• Delhi weather — Phew! I know it often seems like the rain never stops in Mumbai during the monsoon, but after experiencing Delhi's constipated attempts at rain (and the resultant sapping and sticky climate) I've new found appreciation for Mumbai's rain (which I know will dwindle the next time the local trains are bogged down due to a downpour). Note to myself: Visit Delhi in winter to experience what the locals claim is the city's best weather.
• Delhi Metro — Awesome!
• Delhi food — Awesomer! I think the overall quality of food (at least the non-vegetarian fare) in an average Delhi restaurant is far better than what we are accustomed to in Mumbai.

• The Lotus Temple, the Bahá'í House of Worship, is beautiful. This was my first proper visit (my earlier visit to the temple about 8 years ago was abortive — so thick were the crowds then that I turned back from the entrance to the temple). The lotus flower inspired design of 27 free-standing marble clad "petals" is truly divine. The jostling crowds are still a pain though. And it is amusing to see the people's expressions once they enter the central hall of the temple. There are no altars or images or statues (or anything to "worship") inside the temple and people look at the seats and the vaulted ceiling and wonder what to do next. Then it sinks in and the resultant silence is beautiful to hear. While the temple structure is awesome, I wish the the nine pools around the temple and the surrounding gardens are better maintained.
• The India Habitat Center (IHC) is wonderful. Artshows, concerts, lectures, and much more. Often free. We attended, for free, a wonderful concert as a part of the "World Flute Festival" (it being the Janmashtami weekend) organized by Raasrang and were enthralled by Mexico's Horacio Franco playing the recorder. Unfortunately we couldn't stay for the evening's highlight: Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia.
• While I've already cribbed about the traffic on Delhi's roads, it is far better than that encountered on the NH2 to Agra. The highway itself is not in a great shape. I was amazed to find heavy, slow moving traffic monopolizing the right-hand side lane. And in the left hand lane, it is common (and by that I mean every minute or so) to find tractors and tempos and cars and bikes and cycles nonchalantly coming against the traffic. At good speeds. To top it all vehicles change lanes whimsically as do pedestrians. One such pedestrian required the application of sudden brakes if we were to not send him to a hospital. Of course the car that was much behind us thought that no braking was required even if the vehicle in front of it had stopped. Result: a Scorpio rammed into our vehicle. Thankfully none of us were hurt. My friend's brand new car however required a change of bumper and some metal work. The traffic in Agra — horrible. Mumbaikars will appreciate this: think of the peak time traffic at Saki Naka, Andheri. Without the discipline (yeah, it really is much disciplined) and a 100 times more chaos. Mind boggles?
• As always, Agra is filthy. It is only the area around the Taj Mahal that's relatively clean.

• The Taj Mahal is worth the trouble though. This was my third visit to the Taj Mahal, but I would willingly make the  trip again purely for the first glimpse of the Taj. For that instant, when you  walk in from the entrance and behold it for the first time, the Taj takes your breath away. The crowds however are as thick as you will find them anywhere in our country. It being a weekend plus with it being a  long holiday it felt even more crowded this time. After taking in the press of the crowd I decided against stepping inside the Taj. My friends however braved the crowd and did the whole tour.

• The Yamuna behind the Taj  — It is on my third visit that I discovered that the natural color of its waters is not black. Perhaps because the Yamuna was flooded, the river actually looked beautiful.
• The crowds continued to find us at the Akshardham Temple in Noida. I have visited the  temple earlier and have been recommending it virtually anybody new to Delhi. It's is magnificent. This time we visited intending to take in the famous sound and light show. We saw the crowds and turned back. The metro ride to the temple and back was great.
• In all our driving around Delhi, the Anna Hazare and the Lokpal Bill issue seemed faraway. The media had hyped it way too much. Apart from a random person carrying a flag or teenagers wearing Anna T-shirts and caps, there was little evidence in New Delhi of the turmoil created by Anna Hazare's fast at the Ramlila Maidan.
• All in all a good trip. But I was glad to get back to Mumbai's rain-soaked weather.  Reminder to self: Next visit to Delhi only in winter.

Pictures from the trip: Photoset | Slideshow

Marginalia #1: Re-Reading Enid Blyton’s Five Find-Outers and Dog

Remember Fatty? The Five Find-Outers and Dog? Recently I had one of my many bouts of regression — a time when I find I can only read the stuff I had as a kid. During my last such bout, I decided to do a marathon of Enid Blyton’s Five Find-Outers and Dog Mystery Series. Having acquired all the 15 books for my Kindle, this would be the first time I could read all the books in the sequence they were published. Of course, for a literature student, this also means that one gets to see how the series, stories, and the characters developed over time.

My random thoughts and observations on the Five Find-Outers and Dog Mystery Series:

• It is amazing that Enid Blyton sustained the series for nearly 18 years, churning out the 15 books at virtually the rate on one per year. Starting in 1943 (Mystery of the Burnt Cottage) till 1954, she averaged about one book in the series a year. The last book was published in 1961 (Mystery of the Banshee Towers). It is amazing that books published such a long ago, even such simple ones as the Five Find-Outers and Dog series are so readable even in our times.
• Peterswood, the village of the Five Find-Outers — Fatty, Larry, Pip, Daisy, and Bets, and Fatty’s Scottish Terrier, Buster — is the English “Every Village” — a sort of watered down Malgudi. Within the boundaries of Peterswood and a few adjoining villages is a highly self-contained fictional world that provides all the ingredients for the various mysteries that the children solve. It has a river at one end, a railway station, bus stop, a dairy and few coffee houses and “treat shops.”
• Enid Blyton, had created a Five Find-Outers template that she religiously followed for the series. The books start with the kids coming back from their boarding schools (except “young” Bets who attends a day school in Peterswood) for various holidays. They then spend a portion of the holidays annoying Mr. Goon, the village policeman, going on picnics and moping about the lack of a mystery to solve. Then they stumble across a mystery and take up the remainder of the book to solve it. They always have the hot-tempered and bumbling Goon as the only competition.
• Within the “template” Blyton had her small variations and embellishments. One that she follows across most books is Fatty’s disguises. Fatty is an expert at disguising himself and is a very good actor. Since the time he first disguises himself, in every book the other children are the first to arrive in Peterswood for their vacations. They then set out to receive Fatty at the railway station (or at the bus stop) and expect him to be disguise. They always mistake someone else to be Fatty which develops into hilarious situations where Goon too is usually involved till the time Bets recognizes the real Fatty or Fatty reveals himself to the others.
• Coming to the disguises, they are really easy to put on — all that Fatty ever does is put on a horrible wig (usually one of red hair), stick some protruding teeth into his mouth, apply some grease paint on his face, put on some ridiculous clothes (gypsy, old woman selling balloons) and then dirty his hands by sticking them in dirt. All his disguises are of the lower socio-economic classes and extremely stereotypical.
• Fatty is the alpha-male or the dude of the Peterswood’s fictional world. He is the most intelligent person around, has many talents — acting, ventriloquism, knows how to open locked doors, is quick of wit and tongue, the undisputed and benevolent leader of his pack, and the current de Jure alpha-male, Chief Inspector Jenks, can’t wait for him to grow up and join the police force.
• After a few books, it is evident that the Five Find-Outers should not have been the Five Find-Outers. The books should have been “Fatty, his fan - Bets, and Buster the Dog” series. All the mysteries are solved by Fatty. Even most of the sleuthing and detecting is by Fatty. The action centers around him and most things happen only when he is involved and around. The others, especially Larry (who is actually the group’s leader in the first two books), Daisy, and Pips are superfluous — doing not much but a few chores and tasks set for them by Fatty. Bets, of course, is needed to work as a sort of Dr. Watson to Fatty’s Sherlock Holmes. She is Fatty’s biggest fan with unwavering faith in his talents and abilities, adores him totally, is completely loyal to him and will go to any extent to complete the tasks set to her by Fatty. Her reward — Fatty is extremely fond of her and often it is a stray remark by Bets that will set Fatty on the right path to solve the mystery. (In fact so deep is her devotion to Fatty and his affection for her that I am sure there’s some adult fan-fic somewhere on the Internet that builds on it. The series is begging for an adult Fatty-Bets hook-up.)
• Fatty, as mentioned in the earlier point, is the be-all, do-all, and end-all of the series. Bets usually makes a stray remark or observes something that will enable Fatty to put the entire jigsaw of the mystery correctly and tie it up neatly to present to Chief Inspector Jenks. There’s only one mystery, The Mystery of the Invisible Thief, in which it is a trick played by Pip that solves the mystery for Fatty. As I said earlier, so Fatty-centric are the books that the series could have done away with the other children.
• Coming back to the overall series and the “template” used by Enid Blyton it is a surprise to note that the mystery in the books occupies very little real-estate in the story. In most of the books, the mystery begins only after 50% of the book is completed. Till then the children are busy playing various tricks on Goon and cribbing to each other about the lack of excitement in the holidays. All the finding of the clues, tracking of suspects and leads, putting together the jigsaw, etc take less than 40% of the book. For a mystery series, it is a surprise to note that the mysteries themselves are not a major part of most of the books in the series. There are in fact some of stories — for example: Mystery of the Pantomime Cat, Mystery of the Strange Bundle, Mystery of the Banshee Towers — where the actual time from the start of the mystery to solving it and making the arrests is not more 3-4 days and in one instance only a couple of days.
• One major component of Blyton’s Five Find-Outers template is the tricks played on Goon, the village policeman by the kids. These usually involves Fatty in various disguises, with others providing loyal support. Often the kids also strew false clues for Goon to find. Coincidentally it turns out that one of the false clues, or the location picked by the kids, or some other aspect of the trick, has a direct bearing on an actual mystery. Goon is so incensed by the kids and their tricks that he fails to make the connection between the clue(s) and the mystery on hand and often hands over the most important lead to the Five Find-Outers on a platter. It is only when Fatty explains the mystery and how the clues solved it to Chief Inspector Jenks that Goon realizes his mistakes. Goon also always has the worst end of the stick in his dealings with the kids, the criminals and is regularly ticked-off by Jenks.
• Having said that, I think it is a hoot to call the village inspector, Goon. What can be a more unfortunate and ironical name for a policeman?
• It is very easy to identify the criminals in the mystery series. The easiest way is to find the most unpleasant character in a mystery who behaves horribly with the kids. Invariably the kids have a bad feeling about the person and that person turns out to be the villain of the piece. It’s a simple world where the bad people are thoroughly and obviously bad and the good people are completely nice.
• For such simplistic stories, there is obviously no need for any character development. All the characters, including the kids, are in broad brush strokes and they stay the same throughout the series. About the only character that develops a bit is that of Goon. From merely being an annoying and bumbling policeman in the earlier books, he also reveals a mean and cruel streak in some of the later books.
• Class distinctions are very properly maintained in the books (the books were written when it was a different world from the current one with its emphasis on political correctness). Fatty’s disguises are always of the lower classes and show them to be dirty, with bad teeth, with non-standard and funny use of language, and they stink. Most of the criminals, the “ruffians,” in the series are from the lower socio-economic classes. Even other kids whom the Five Find-Outers befriend are conscious of their standing vis-à-vis the five kids. In Mystery of the Disappearing Cat, Luke, the gardener’s boy, meets and talks with the kids often, and the kids even hide him in Larry and Daisy’s summerhouse, but he never shares a meal with them. Ern, Goon’s nephew, occasionally has tea with the kids or joins them on picnics, but when the dinner bell rings he has his food in the kitchen.
• Food however is not a central point or motif in the Five Find-Outers books (as opposed to the Famous Five who only seem to exist to eat). Food or actually timings like breakfast, lunch, tea, and dinner serve primarily as markers of the passage of time in a day. It is only in the later books in the series that we find the five going to the village dairy or coffee houses to tuck into macaroons and jam tarts and hot-buttery scones and éclairs.
• Ern, Goon’s nephew, is fond of writing “portry.” He however can only begin a “pome” but is never able to complete it — something which Fatty with his many talents manages quite easily. Have you noticed that most of Ern’s poems have the word “Pore” (poor) in the first line? One of his pomes, I think the first one, goes: How sad to see thee, pore dead pig. . .  A later one starts with: A pore old gardener said, "Ah me! / My days is almost done. / I’ve got rheumatics . . . You can read Ern’s poems here.
• The kids, of course, never age. There’s one book in which Bets is mentioned to have turned nine from eight but otherwise the kids stay the same age throughout the many holidays. The kids should have aged by 15 years with one book per year. Blyton however cleverly makes it a mystery per holiday and the Five Find-Outers insist on having a mystery every “hols”: summer, Christmas and Easter. In spite of that, the kids don’t age and curiously the books actually skip a holiday or two between books. The Invisible Thief is set in summer. The next book in the series, The Vanished Prince is also set in summer. In case you are wondering if it is two mysteries in a single summer, the kids in The Vanished Prince complain about the waste of their holiday with no mystery to solve for four weeks. So perhaps a year has passed by since the last mystery. Or perhaps, Blyton with her prolific output of many books a year, simply lost track of the books’ time-line.
• One completely random observation:
  Enid Blyton too betrays what I call the English fascination for the Bengali folk of India. In an earlier post on this blog, I’ve noted the London Big Ben's immense love for Bongs. Enid Blyton, in The Mystery of Tally-Ho Cottage, has Fatty disguised as an Indian when he is apprehended. Asked to reveal his identity, Fatty introduces himself as Mr. Hoho-Ha from Bong Castle, India. Could this English fascination with Bongs be due to the fact that the English first established their seat in India in Calcutta (kolkata) :) ?
• And finally, quite a few of the mysteries are not “mysteries” in the strictest sense of the word (For example: Mystery of the Hidden House or The Banshee Towers). They could more correctly be labeled as “adventures.” The books are however still highly enjoyable (though I admit after 7-8 books read one after the other, it became an overdose) especially as when you read them they are tinged with nostalgia of remembered childhood holidays when the books were first read accompanied with glasses of cool lemonade and raw mangoes smeared with chilly and salt.

 That’s about it — I had a wonderful trip down memory lane reading the Five Find-Outers and Dog series again.  What about you? Any of your observations and thoughts you would like to add to the above?

Mamachya Gavala Jau Ya . . . After 25 Years

Photoset | Slideshow

For the benefit of non-Maharashtrians, Mamachya Gavala Jau Ya is a popular Marathi kiddy song about taking a train to visit your Mama (maternal uncle, mom's brother) in his village. The reason for invoking the song in the title was my visit to my Mama's village, also my birthplace, last week. I was visiting after 25 years. I stayed there for a couple of days — time I spent in going all over the village to see how old remembered landmarks have changed (or merely appear different) over time.

Some thoughts and observations from the trip:

• In some trains, the 3AC compartments are way better and modern than the 2AC ones. A case in point was the 3AC compartment of the Sewagram Express from Mumbai to Nagpur. Having failed to secure 2AC tickets, I boarded the compartment with some trepidation, expecting people squeezed together and was pleasantly surprised. The same train on the return journey, two days later however had older and less swanky compartments.
• Nothing prepares you for some unexpected changes and additions to a place you are seeing again after 25 years. Sindi (Rly.), the village I was visiting, is still small (you can stroll from one end to the other in about 10 minutes), but it now has concrete roads. Even the smaller "gallis" are concretized.
• I derived much enjoyment from directing my uncle the way to his home. For kicks, after receiving me at the railway station, he asked me if I remembered the way. Since the journey was in near darkness (the Sewagram Express reaches at 04:40 in the morning) it was also great fun to point out to him and identify barely visible landmarks — "That should be the sawmill . . . those structures over there must be the granaries . . .these buildings are new, but that one tucked in there is the school . . . oh well, this is totally changed, but I suppose this is still the village bus stop. . . " Then seeing my uncle's face I stopped in front of his house but pretended to be confused which was the door to his home. The house had changed so much that the confusion could look genuine.
• One thing that journey from the railway station to the home taught me — If you are visiting after 25 years, people expect you to be lost and take pleasure in it. For the next two days, I played the "What has happened to the village I knew" role to the full hilt. A point to be noted, 25 years is a long time — time enough for landmarks and things change, but not enough to be completely erased.
• Some things do change completely. There were no longer any cattle or other livestock on the streets. The streets are now completely taken over by motorized vehicles. Any cows, goats, chickens and other assorted animals I saw either were in the fields or confined to their pens and coops.
• What is it with villages and early mornings? For the two days I was there, I used to be up, showered, and breakfasted by 08:30 AM. At home on a holiday or even on a Sunday, it would be sacrilege to be out of bed before 09:30 AM. After waking up so early, and having a lot of time on your hands, there was little choice but to accompany my uncle to his daily visit to the village's main temple.
• The Hanuman mandir of the village is really "very, very old." But no one knows exactly how old — "It was here even before I was a child," said the temple's ancient priest. "When was that?" "Hmm. . . I don't know . . . before Independence . . . I remember going to Gandhiji's ashram in Wardha when he was there." I remembered the path to the temple very well but had surprisingly forgotten it's most distinguishing feature — the temple housed a rare two-headed swaymbhu Hanuman idol.
• When you are visiting after 25 years, there are a lot of social calls to be made. In a village the size of Sindi, this was usually in the form of my uncle being hailed from a window or a shop as we walked along the "main street." I soon realized that most of the greetings were to satiate the curiosity of finding my uncle with a stranger. And once memories were sufficiently jogged, it always resulted in a cup of tea. Refusal was not on the cards for that always resulted in the standard "you city folk find the tea of our village below acceptable standards" dialogue and other variants of it. I had way too many cups of tea. 
• One such cup of tea was with an old tailor who hailed my uncle and me from his workshop as we passed by. The tailor later, as we were sipping the tea (and I was somnolently watching the sleepy market place), claimed that he had stitched my clothes when I was little more than a baby. This could be true, for he claimed that back then he was the only tailor in the village.
• In many ways, the village has changed for the better — concrete roads, a few more schools, and even a college. The village has become a sort of a hub for the neighboring villages. There were of course some things that I would have preferred not to have changed. Many of the old style houses have made way for the ugly brick and concrete boxes that somehow only we seem to design and build. And the small river at one end of the village has now become a weed choked and sewage filled nullah.
• Farmers are big gamblers (and optimists). Their entire livelihood is a gamble — Indian agriculture and especially farming in Vidharbha is highly dependent on the rains. If that wasn't a big enough deterrent by itself, many farmers (and this is while farmer suicides are still common in Vidharbha) still gamble on cotton. Cotton prices a few years back had sky rocketed to Rs. 6500 a quintal on the back of a global demand due to crop failure elsewhere. Today the typical Vidharbha cotton farmer still gambles on the price reaching the earlier giddy heights (and using the money to wipe off all his debts). These days cotton sells, if at all it sells, at around Rs. 2500 a quintal.

• Cotton, even otherwise, is a labor-intensive and an investment-intensive crop. It needs regular weeding and care, frequent doses of insecticide, pesticide, fertilizer, pruning, etc, etc. To top it all, if it rains once the cotton balls are ready to be picked . . . A great many farmers have switched to other alternatives — tur dal (yellow pigeon peas), onions, soya bean (soya bean apparently is largely a "sow and forget" kind of a crop, requiring one dose of fertilizer and one spraying of insecticide).
• Farming too is highly politicized. Going by my uncle and the few other farmers I met, the local "native" farmhands are the laziest of the lot but have a lot of political backing due to the born again "sons of the soil" movement. The best workers are the migratory ones from the south and north of India (and now some even from West Bengal in the east) who work twice as hard and are cheaper. But a preponderance of "other" workers in your field can be "damaging" for your crops. This actually is one big reason why many farmers are moving away from labor-intensive cotton. The Vidharbha cotton farming problem, I feel, will eventually be solved not by writing-off the farmers' loans, but by banning farmhands from other states completely.

Sindi railway station has a couple of platforms that are at the level of the railway tracks. You basically climb-up into the train or climb-down out of it — something I had realized after having to stumble down the train's steps on reaching there early morning. The platforms are also short in length. From most of the train compartments, you climb down to the tracks and then pick your way in the darkness towards the lights of the platform. But it was on my way back, I realized just how small and laid back the village and its railway station is even today. Six trains halt at Sindi daily of which only two will bring you from and to Mumbai. After darkness, only the lights in the main station building are switched on. If you have a train to take, you inform the station master, who then switches on all the lights along the platform a few minutes before the train arrives. The same person will also courteously come over and tell you that the train is expected in the next few minutes. I boarded the Sewagram Express on my way back again. I was the only person to board the train at the station. 

I think I have had my fill of village life for the time being in spite of all the fresh food, green farms, etc. I would find the village in some ways claustrophobic if I were on an extended stay. Life is centered on too few things — and these days the one biggest thing is television. Even when you meet other people, television and local politics are the main topics of discussion. Time weighs heavy in your hands — an hour, feels twice as long and I realized I am not as laid back as my friends make me out to be. I also realized I am too much of an Internet addict to stay in any village for an extended time — well at least not till it can guarantee me a good broadband connection. Till then a couple of days every now and then is good enough for me.

Pictures from the trip: Photoset | Slideshow

The Technology Affected Learner

Geetha Krishnan on the six ways in which technology has impacted learners and learning:



In case you are unable to watch the video here, visit this page:
TEDxGachibowli - Geetha Krishnan - The Technology Affected Learner