Are the Arab nations ready for democracy?

When Mohamed Bouazizi, a fruit vendor in the city of Sidi Bouzid in Tunisia, set himself on fire to protest against the injustice meted out to him, little did he imagine that his self-immolation act of protest would fan the flames and trigger off a domino effect that is even now raging through the Arab world.

Image courtesy: tobejust.com 

Starting with the Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia, the flames proceeded to sweep through Egypt and Libya, engulfing the seats of a few power-drunk despots on the way. Major protests were also seen across Algeria, Bahrain, Djibouti, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Oman, and Yemen where protestors took to the streets demanding for a change from the deep set rot of unemployment, corruption, inflation, political repression and poor living conditions that seemed common woes to them all.


As youtube videos of violent street protests and the anarchy at Tahrir square, continued to get multiple thousand hits and gain solidarity from the world online community, there was a question that lingered in the back of the mind for many. Are the Arab nations really ready for democracy?

I find this question quite patronising, and crudely stereotypical to be honest. It’s like the British playing that same old tape on rewind. The tape that repeatedly told us for the 250 odd years that they ruled us, that we would not be able to ‘handle’ freedom. That without them ruling us, we would implode. Anarchy would run riot. 64 years of freedom later, though we have our own set of flaws, we’re still living in a thriving democracy.

This is not to say that the conditions in the Arab world and India are any comparable. They have their own unique set of issues, whether it is economic, religious or the world’s obsession over its oil resources. The string of dictators from Ben Ali to Mubarak continued to rule decade after decade, nurtured by the western powers when it suited them and evoking reprimands when the people and the world community turned hostile against the same dictators.

But if our experiences in Iraq and Afghanistan have taught us anything, it is that the removal of tyranny alone is insufficient to create a stable democracy. Their prospects for lasting freedom have nothing to do with rhetorical support from Washington, but depend rather on whether those countries have the broader political and economic infrastructure necessary to sustain democracy. 

Image courtesy: frontpagemag.com 

What is unfolding in the Arab streets is not an assertion of religious reaction but a yearning for democracy with all its burdens and rewards. For Arab dictatorships that have often viewed war as a means of enhancing their prestige, an injection of democratic accountability can go a long way toward arresting impetuous impulses. 

Admittedly, the uncertainty and the chance of slipping into greater chaos looms large in the future of these people. They might not completely know what they’ve bargained for yet. That the path to democracy is not a bed of roses, but arduous and needs constant and collective responsibility which is not always easy to achieve. But what is really important is to take that first step towards making the change that the nation is craving for.

Whoever said that democracy is a gene that you have to be born with? History has shown us that people have always fought for, won their right to rule themselves and then grown into the role in the years to come. The difference between successful democracies and failed states is what the people themselves do with that freedom once they earn it. Do they proceed to do to their people what the erstwhile dictators did to them? Or do they rise to the occasion and bring the change for which common people like Mohamed Bouazizi, the Tunisian fruit vendor died for. As the Arab world sits at the cusp of a turn in its destiny, one thing is definite; we sure do live in some interesting times.


Watch this video to get reactions and glimpses during 'the million march rally'  to oust President Hosni Mubarak at Tahrir Square during the protests in Egypt. 

Tech boost for MNREGA

In the face of a relentless season of scams and the rising disillusionment, the UPA government is now in a desperate damage control mode. Its best bet would be to plug the loopholes in areas where it has managed to achieve marginal success.

Image courtesy: nregs-mp.org

Five years since the launch of its flagship Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act, the government has now proposed to create a biometric data base of all workers covered under the MNREGA scheme and use it to authenticate work applications, work-site attendance and wage payments.

“We hope it will substantially reduce instances of discrimination in work allocation, delayed payments and bogus muster rolls,” Prime Minister Manmohan Singh said at a function organised to acknowledge the five years of MNREGA. He also expressed concern over problems in implementation of the scheme in Naxal-affected areas. “Priority is being given to Left-wing extremism affected districts, and districts where the annual MNREGA expenditure is above Rs 100 crore (Rs 1 billion),” he said. 

Concerned about the reports of harassment and intimidation of social auditors, the PM said, “Comprehensive rules to strengthen the social audit process by the gram sabha are being formulated.” He also announced that the government will establish a technical unit, comprising a panchayat development officer and a junior engineer, in each gram panchayat.

Maintaining that MNREGA had generated 880 crore person days of work since its inception, the Dr. Singh added that, “About 52 per cent of the work has been done by those belonging to the Scheduled Cases and Scheduled Tribes and 47 per cent by women.” He also noted that wages under MNREGA were now being disbursed through more than 10 crore (100 million) bank and post office accounts.

However, the challenge before the government is to improve the on ground implementation of the Act. “We have to improve the delivery mechanism of the programme so that the Right to Employment created under the Act becomes an effective right available to all eligible persons. Modern technology can be a potent weapon in preventing leakages and improving transparency,” Singh said.

Singh said wages have increased from Rs 65 per person per day in 2006 to around Rs 100 per person per day today. “Wage rates for MNREGA workers have recently been linked to increases in Consumer Price Index for agricultural labourers, resulting in an immediate 17 per cent to 30 per cent increase of wage rates. The average person days of employment per household under MNREGA in the last financial year was 54 days,” Singh added.

The government also plans to formulate micro-plans at the village level with people's participation to determine what work should be undertaken and where. “The people should be actively involved in the implementation, monitoring and social audit of the programme,” Singh said, adding that the role of Panchayati Raj could be enhanced for this.

“The real success of MNREGA will be achieved when it is able to address the circumstances that made the programme necessary in the first place,” Singh said.


Click on the following video to see a demo of how the new technology in MNREGA will work. 

Collision course

Chance inexplicable encounters,
Planned deliberate masquerades..
Mirrors and Smokescreens,

Songs and memories..

Clouds of doubt..

That feeling of nothingness.

Allowing yourself to get trapped into that corner.

Fooling yourself that this isn’t happening,

Talking yourself into believing it isn’t real..

Looking up, only to realise it’s much too late,

And that try as you might, it can never be the same again..

Falling from grace.. picking yourself up again.. and stumbling, yet again..

Restrained.. to out-of-control..

Bursts of wild and waywardness..

Webs of disillusionment..

Wondering if it’s a permanent state of being?

Facing yourself.. to not looking at those closest, in the eye..

But in the end, being answerable to no one but yourself.

A black swan.

And those that follow you into the dark.. without judgement.

Shadows of a laugh now..

Reaching in.. and then out, 
Beginning an attempt at the game again,
As once again, the meandering quest continues..

Life on the fast track..

As long back as I can remember, I have always been fascinated by train journeys . There was something about sitting by the window seat for hours.. with so much life whizzing past you.. the slow and steady rhythm of the changing tracks beneath you.. the fight to sleep on the middle bunk bed.. which made me so happy as a kid.. But these train journeys have long been replaced by road trips and flights.. so much so that I cannot even remember the last time I was on a looong train journey.. (Oh was it to Shimla..and that horrid 15 hour train delay nightmare? Hmm..maybe that’s the reason why we resorted to family road trips thereafter?!)

Anyways, I knew my romantic bubble of illusion about train journeys was about to burst in Mumbai.. After all.. hadn’t I heard about the infamously crowded compartments..seen images of people hanging on for dear life at the door and even on top of trains.. heard stories about how the local trains are the lifelines of the people here..and also about the chaos that erupts when disaster strikes these very lifelines.. ?

So it is with much trepidation that I venture out that first day, on my solitary journey of discovery to figure out how the gigantic railway system works in Mumbai.. I clutch my ticket tightly as I fall in step behind the teeming humanity hurriedly making its way to and from the many platforms.. As I slow my pace down slightly to scan the perplexing acronyms on the neon board announcing the train schedule.. the woman behind me bumps right into me..gives me a look of pure disgust and without so much of an apology rushes past me at a half-run..

I remember what my uncle in Mumbai once told me..”If you walk slowly..(by Mumbai standards) people recognise that you’re new here..” More so to look as if I belong..than in any hurry, I increase my pace slightly. To my utter relief the announcing lady has just told me which platform, the number of compartments , and the speed mode of my train..which will arrive in 1 minute.. As I make my way to platform No 5, I have already been required to make a number of decisions.. one way Ticket/return/coupon booklet or season pass? Slow/fast train? General/ ladies/first class/second class compartment? And also when I exit..East exit/west exit? (which I learnt the hard way can make a huge difference on your rickshaw metre reading)

But surprisingly, on that first day, when the train stops in front of me..I have no problem in getting in at all.. I even get a seat to sit down.. which all lead me to believe that maybe I’m in a first class compartment.. still clutching my 4 rupee ticket in hand, I think.. Pah! this is not that difficult after all..

It is only later that I learn.. that the time of the day will directly decide the rate at which you will get pushed around before you finally manage to get in.. and that a first class compartment has red stripes on the outside and its ticket does not cost 4 bucks..( Don’t blame me! I was drawing from my Kolkata metro fare experience!) So anyway, contrary to all the horror stories I’d heard.. I manage to have a very pleasant maiden local train journey. These days, I meditate on that memory to keep my sanity whenever I am squeezed and lodged somewhere in between a whole compartment of women who oh.. just happen to sweat profusely courtesy the very pleasant weather outside..

Of course, if you want a crash course in people behaviour..there’s no place like a local train to start your schooling.. All the years of practiced restraint and courteousness go for a toss when the train groans to a stop in front of you at the platform. That’s when the savage in you awakens from its deep slumber..as you push and shove your way ahead on pure instinct..it is the survival of the fittest mate!

It’s amazing too, how random people can set the tone and affect your mood for the rest of the day.. I remember this woman the other day, who was obviously in a foul mood from the moment she stepped inside the crowded local that I had somehow managed to squeeze myself into, despite the evening peak hour. As she prodded and coaxed many to make way for her and proceeded to hijack an empty seat which should have rightfully gone to this girl who had been standing there all along.. a loud and long drawn argument ensued between the two.. significantly altering the mood of everyone around, what with the whole compartment at large being subjected to constant taunts by the woman for the rest of the journey.

I learn a lot each day.. like how it’s a bad idea to have your cellphone in your hand while walking on the platform.. as random people running (as if their life depended on it) to catch a train.. may send it flying from your hand only to scatter into 3 pieces on the floor and that attempts to find the tiny memory card may threaten to cause a mini stampede.. But then you also realise how helpful people can be, as within minutes three people ask me what’s wrong..and one of them (with eyes of a hawk) spots the tiny chip immediately and hands it over to me in triumph!

But despite it all..everything around is anything but a pretty picture. Abject poverty greets you at every station that you get off.. all begging for some attention and a few coins to spare..

Well fed from the weekend visit to my uncle’s house, I’m standing in the long queue to buy a ticket at the Kurla station. The girl at my feet is hard to miss..her voice reaches you before you can spot her.. somewhere between the rows and rows of impatient human legs. She chants a long and earnest plea on a loop.. appealing to all her brothers around to have mercy and spare a couple of coins for her and her younger siblings.. her loud and continuous chant is visibly jarring many people around her. She is still there the next weekend.. when I’m buying the same ticket..still repeating her relentless appeal.. on and on.. in a never ending loop.. I see a girl in tattered clothes on the train today who was positively younger than me, carrying in her arms a baby that looked like it was maybe born just minutes ago.. barely able to open its eyes and with what looked like a huge bump like wound on the top of its head..

You can scarcely blame people from becoming immune to all these sights around.. after all these stories are found a dime a dozen..every few steps that you take..how many can you possibly help?

My first month here is fast drawing to a close.. my music player is my new ‘commute best friend’..the crowd and rush barely register a blip on my irritation radar these days..(especially since I know it could be a lot worse during a train motormens strike..which threw the entire transport system out of gear for 2 days..) Brisk walking to catch the local which will reach platform no 3 at any moment now, I find myself getting impatient with a woman in front of me, walking at a slightly slower pace than I am. As I hurriedly overtake her, shooting her a nasty look..she looks confused.. ‘Newbie’ I chuckle to myself..as I brace myself to squeeze into yet another local..

The ephemeral mirage of bliss

Yes.. everything is but transient....

That, you’ve always known in principle..

but lured and ­­wrapped up in that cocooned existence

the spirit cannot help but beg to believe otherwise ..

It continues its impulsive unfettered flight

unmindful of tomorrow..

not seeking reasons.. promises or any validation..

just instant gratification..

re-drawing boundaries that were once sacred..

suddenly believing more in the greys, than in black or white

as the lines between your own right and wrong continue to blur..

So when the spell is finally broken..

When u finally do wake up

from the forced or wilful facade..

Blind though the hibernation has been..

There is still, that one single moment of clarity..

Sitting with your arms around yourself

on the ledge where you’ve always belonged and felt safe..

giving in to the beginnings of that same old feeling creeping up your spine..

Except.. This time.. it’s different..

Becoz maybe, change has permeated so much..

that you’re not the same anymore..

For better or for worse..

You can still find yourself though..

Somewhere.. deep in the cobwebs of your mind

knowingly created..

or maybe, you just might not recognise

that face in the mirror anymore..

But even if you don’t,

You still believe..

that this phase, like everything else, is fleeting as well..

You still crave though..

for something more meaningful..

more enduring..

than just the glint of that momentary mirage...

Free?

My eyes dart towards the bright orange highlight that just jumped to frame the number 15 on my laptop’s calendar icon. It’s 12 am. More importantly, it’s August the 15th, 2009. I sigh. 62 years of Freedom. Apparently.
I am supposed to feel happy and proud today. Happy that the officials goofed up and that the death toll in the city due to H1N1 is actually 12,not 15. Happy that the weather forecast says it might rain for awhile today, which may just give a little relief to the impending drought staring right at us in the face. Happy that there hasn’t been any major terrorist attack that I know of this month... Happy that the awareness levels about swine flu is so high that half the city is virtually under a mini house arrest... too scared to even venture out of their homes..
Free from paranoia?
I can’t help reminiscing about my school Independence Day celebrations.. of the performances.. leading my House at the marching parade.. the patriotic songs..the speeches..year after year articulating a pledge to work towards a better tomorrow.. The festive air somehow made an optimist out of most people. If only for a day..making our hopes soar as high as the tricoloured balloons that we released happily up into the sky.
I try giving in to that same feeling of optimism now. Yes, there are signboards at every major chowk in the city..explaining in detail the do’s and dont’s to combat this latest strain of flu..
After eons, I see a PMC vehicle fumigating the area around my house, all the while announcing amplified information on H1N1, through the loudspeaker.
Why do we always wake up to action only when push comes to shove?
I saw the wholesale marketyard of Gultekdi wearing a deserted look two days back..very far removed from the flurry of activity and the sea of humanity which would otherwise be milling around on a normal business day. Huge posters declare a three day closure of the market on account of the swine flu. I couldn’t help but wonder at the scale of losses they might suffer. Pinching them much more than the loss of business for closed cinema halls, multiplexes and malls that everyone on facebook is cribbing about.


The clock strikes 1. Everyone at home is fast asleep, except me. My screen flashes an update as the first patriotic email finds its way into my inbox. I scan it half heartedly.. unable to bring myself to read it.
I’m distracted by the sound of a sudden Rrrrrip of something tearing.. I turn to look behind me. It seems to be emanating from somewhere near the window pane. I smack my head..maybe sleep is making me hallucinate a bit. But there it comes again..that same Rrrrip.. I turn around in my chair again, and stare fixedly at the window behind me..Is it the sound of the curtain brushing against the nearby plastic bag containing my books ..? I’m still staring puzzled at the curtain..when it begins to move.. Not naturally as when the wind blows the curtain forward.. but at an odd angle..like it was being pushed aside so that someone outside could peep in..! One ear splitting, blood curdling scream later (by which time of course the burgler(s) had beaten a hasty retreat..) I change the location of my bed to be as far away from the window as possible..
As i struggle to fall asleep that night..I try to gauge if I can still detect any real sense of optimism within me like during the carefree Independence days at school...
Free from Paranoia?
I’m not so sure anymore..