Apology Not Accepted!

The subscribers of The Hindu woke up to an apology note from the Editor yesterday. The note expressed regret in publishing a report which “failed to adhere to journalistic norms in both reporting and editorial supervision”. They also withdrew the story from all online platforms on The Hindu. Such a note is a rarity in current times not because journalists no longer make mistakes but because they do not have the mettle to own their mistakes. Yet, when I read the apology note from the Hindu, I was reminded of what Ken Poirot said – “By the time most people say ‘I’m sorry’, it is already too late”.

 

Rupert_Murdoch_apology_letter
Rupert Murdoch’s ‘full-page’ apology letter in the aftermath of the phone-hacking scandal.

Few days ago, I returned exhausted from work and decided to order dinner through Zomato. I had placed the order at half past seven and was promised a delivery in forty five minutes. An hour went by without a sign of food. I called the Zomato customer support and they called the restaurant in turn to check the status. Thirty minutes later, a delivery agent was at my door and with the wrong order. I called Zomato again and they called the restaurant again. This time I was added to a conference call with Zomato and the restaurant. The restaurant apologized for the mistake and agreed to deliver the correct order in 15 minutes but the Zomato support agent intervened and said that they won’t be providing a delivery agent for this order since it was the restaurant’s fault. She asked the restaurant to use their own delivery options. The restaurant had collaborated with Zomato for delivery and did not have alternate options for delivering. I disconnected the call asking them to sort things among themselves and send me the dinner at the earliest. Ten minutes later, I receive a call from the Zomato staff stating that the order has been cancelled by the restaurant. She also mentioned that Zomato regrets the inconvenience caused to me and promised to reimburse the payment I had made in full. It would take 4 – 7 days for this money to be credited back to my bank account which she conveniently forgot to mention. She also suggested that I should make another order through Zomato. I looked at the time and it was already half past nine.

I asked her how long would it take for the next order to reach me. She said that would depend on the restaurant. What she meant was that it would take at least another forty five minutes. At this point, I asked for the manager. The manager came on the line after few minutes and repeated the same rehearsed apologies, except he tried to sound  sincerer only to fail miserably at it. He also added that I should rate the restaurant poorly for their service. The mention of ‘poor service’ unleashed the rightful wrath that was simmering in me all this while. The restaurant would have delivered the order as promised in fifteen minutes had Zomato not refused to provide a delivery agent. It was indeed the restaurant who faltered with the order and I agree that they must bear the cost of the repeat delivery. However, in this case, I, the customer was penalized with hunger for having availed the services of Zomato and the restaurant.

What the Zomato staff did not understand was that I was availing the service of Zomato in the first place and not the restaurant’s. When they say they will reimburse the payment, they sound like they are doing me a favor by returning the money. After all, it was my money and they must refund it. I had only two questions to the Zomato manager.

  • Can you arrange for my dinner to be delivered in the next 15 minutes?
  • In scenarios like this, how do you compensate a customer for the inconvenience?

The answer to both the questions were “We are sorry, Ma’am”. I thanked them, disconnected the call, and went out to the food stall nearby my place to have my dinner.

Few months back, I along with a friend ordered a Kindle e-reader from Amazon as a gift for another friend. Two days after the gift was delivered, Amazon announced a sale and the e-reader got cheaper by ?2000. My friend wrote an email to the Amazon Customer care team explaining how he had been a longtime customer of Amazon and how it feels to have paid ?2000 more. Amazon was very well within their legal and moral rights to ignore such an email. Instead they chose to do something different. They went ahead and reimbursed ?2000 rupees as Amazon credits as a ‘one-time’ goodwill gesture. How wonderful can that be!

These three cases are hardly comparable especially because the stakes involved are entirely different. The services that The Hindu or Zomato provide involve a lot more significant aspects of lives and they certainly cannot afford to make mistakes, but when they do, they need to have more than a mere apology. The same media which mercilessly rips apart wrongdoers should stick to the same standards if not better when it comes to their own misdeeds. Having personally been a victim of unethical journalism, I can only imagine the plight of the person who was wrongly accused and the emotional trauma that his entire family might have gone through. If an e-commerce service provider like Amazon who is not legally bound to address a certain grievance can walk the extra mile and do what they need not, only to keep a customer delighted, then the Hindu and Zomato must have a better way to address a grievance especially when they are legally, morally, and ethically bound.

Expressing regret is only the first step to an apology and not the end to it. An apology is complete only when you take responsibility for what happened and make amends.  As Kevin Hancock says, “Apologies aren’t meant to change the past, they are meant to change the future”.  While I have no high hopes for Zomato, I must laud the Hindu for their courage to step up and own their mistake. The Hindu withdrawing the story from online platforms is just like Zomato reimbursing the payment. I as a subscriber to the Hindu am interested to know how the Hindu is going to make amends for the future.

Orwell’s Dunkirk

Internet is perhaps the most democratic country you can get. I concede that it has its own ugliness but show me one democratic country that doesn’t have its claws soaked in viciousness? With all its traps and tribulations, this is how a free and open society would perhaps look like. Finders of information and seekers of knowledge never had a better time in the history of humanity.

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The Secular Facade of Indian Politics

An India Today article quotes from the autobiography of Kuldip Nayar Beyond the lines: An autobiography (Source). Kuldip Nayar writes, “It was Sanjay Gandhi, known for his extra-constitutional methods, who suggested that some ‘Sant’ should be put up to challenge the Akali government. Both Sanjay and Zail Singh, particularly the latter, knew how the former Punjab chief minister Pratap Singh Kairon had fought the Akalis. He had built up Sant Fateh Singh against Master Tara Singh, the Akali leader, who had become a hard nut to crack. Zail Singh and Darbara Singh, who was a Congress Working Committee member and later became chief minister, selected two persons for Sanjay’s evaluation.

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Swami-Vivekananda-Bookstalkist

A Gaurakshak meets Swami Vivekananda

“The present convention, which is one of the most august assemblies ever held, is in itself a vindication, a declaration to the world of the wonderful doctrine preached in the Gita: “Whosoever comes to Me, through whatsoever form, I reach him; all men are struggling through paths which in the end lead to me.” Sectarianism, bigotry, and its horrible descendant, fanaticism, have long possessed this beautiful earth.

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Rest In Peace, Anitha

I have never met Rajani S. Anand, but I am indebted to her. The year was 2004 and it was the second year of my college. I had spent the previous academic year waiting in the lobbies of various banks hoping to tear down the wall that was shielding from me the future I was hoping for myself and my family. From nationalized banks to private banks, from M.L.A’s office to college management, I had knocked almost on all the doors to secure an education loan to pursue my education. But for an entire year, I only heard the doors slammed hard on my face. After a couple of months, I was not allowed to attend my classes until I paid the course fee in full. I was sent to come home from college. I spent two weeks at home watching my dreams fade into the distance. Continue reading “Rest In Peace, Anitha”

Where is the Silver Lining?

As the evening setting sun plays peek-a-boo with the grey clouds, my son knows it’s time to go to the terrace. As the first drop of water lands on him, which actually happens to be from the running tap adjacent to which he is standing, his little hands and waist spring into action. Accompanied with a squirmy action is an energetic rendition of ‘Lain, lain, go wa way, come again anothel day’. To the uninitiated, it’s the popular nursery rhyme ‘Rain, rain, go away’ sung by a 2-year-old.

For me, well, I am undecided. Should I be happy and join him as he looks expectantly at the celestial skies or should I shy away?

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Are we Looking Down Upon?

“When Louis XVI shifted his allegiance to the most privileged class in French society, the bourgeoisie, known in French government as the Third Estate, determined that it was time for the masses to take control. Louis XVI was condemned as a traitor and executed on the guillotine on January 21, 1793.The country’s heavy debts were a chief cause of national unrest, and exaggerated reports about Marie Antoinette’s luxurious lifestyle became associated with the nation’s deficit. She was soon the most hated person in France and the subject of wild rumors spread by pamphleteers. On October 16, 1793, she too was beheaded.”

                                                                                           – From the French Revolution

To what end do these moths, which do an appearing act at the end of a shower infused with life by street lights and CFLs, bulbs and tubes, live when they are destined to die within a span of few minutes? What is the purpose of their lives, I asked sniggering at the constrained nature of knowledge. And in the same breath of thought, this comes to me: are they (moths) better than the humans who have to live every day on the margins?

We have known as some sort of an ultimate truth that every being has a role to play. So we have come out with labels such as nature’s scavenger for the crow simultaneously creating our man made versions of manual scavengers, for eons in the name of caste. Manual scavenging still exists- have we not, since our forefathers indoctrinated a particular section of the society, taught the latter to take a good look at themselves?

 Myths were invented in India. So if the marginalized are prisoners of a past life then they will be the first ones to attain mukti. And going by the same karma theory fed like a vaccine generation after generation, we will replace them in the next life. But who cares as long as we don’t have to live on the outermost peripheries of affluence, in this life. Because past life humbug is only to increase our tolerance towards the stark disparity between a “loaded” shopper stepping out of a mall and the security guard who in all probability carries baggage of a loan, or the fact that he isn’t providing his children with basic education as he makes way for the madam. That they will never demand the bread that rich are having is contained by such myths and superstitions is as naive an assumption as the fact that ministers are rulers in a democracy.

Are we being too insensitive and rash in our attitude towards the seams that hold our lofty existences? Are they letting us play it out to the hilt? Or are they waiting for us to rise to the occasion?

All around the only thing that is uniform to the senses is the incorrigible and inherent spirit of life. Otherwise, what explains the slum dweller or the footpath sleeper to carry on? Who aspires to be a sewage worker or a sweeper?

Perhaps there is a reason that we need youth, the age which wants to be much more than what it is, the time which realizes the limitlessness of its being. How does the impetuosity of youth deal with poverty? Are we not bearing the brunt of the karma of our forefathers when we introduce our young ones to a world riddled with quotas and reservations?

There is an interesting argument which talks about how India is managing with minimum law enforcement when around the world it is dispensed in the highest degree. Is it because there is a stratum of society which has so far survived in self pitying and self loathing?

What does the waiter feel when he serves more than the hungry stomachs need when his family cannot afford two square meals? What must it be like being surrounded by an obnoxious display of food yet it remaining out of reach? Are we pointing out to them what they and their families can never have? Are we living dangerously at the end of a simmering branch that will soon catch fire?

Are we living the right kind of lifestyle in the face of hungry and burning eyes? Are we pushing them to insanity?

Is it necessary to ban capital punishment because the frustration of a daily wager knows no end?

Do we see how intertwined our lives are with each other- the autowallah picks me up from where the metro abandons me. What do we know about the plight of the labourer who built our house and then rushed to a new site to be able to fix his next meal?

We may not have control over their lives and conditions in which they live, but what is the attitude we bear towards them? While they are keeping our lives well oiled, taking care of the toilets that we use ungratefully, is our gratitude in the right place and for that matter our hearts?

Do we know how to take them along as we move towards realizing our great American dream?

When will we reach the potters and weavers who add aesthetics and try to take us a couple of notches higher than we would excuse ourselves from the mundane? Are we equipped to coexist as communities? The government has to tell people not to defecate in the open. Is it because the villages that it hides in the remoteness of knowledge have not been able to look at themselves any better than the treatment meted out to them? Why do we not talk about the villages of our colonizers? These areas popular as countryside among tourists who make sure not to miss staying in the countryside of Italy, England or France, do they not make us question the barbarianism that our villagers subject themselves to? Are we assuming in our presumptuous identities as urban citizens that any other identity is inferior and should have known better?

And why are the mountain people, the people who have developed a relationship with hills like we have with our air conditioners or phones, cannot live in them? And why are we looking to make a home away from home in their habitat?

“The vegetable vendor is bringing food to my doorstep for money”, for how long will this perspective let him tolerate us as we haggle on! Does the farmer demand my lifestyle in return? More importantly are we making sure he gets his due?

Do we deserve the life we are living so mindlessly? From man versus the wild and successfully driving the latter to extinction, have we come to man versus man?

Do we need this stratum to feel a little bit better about our own situation in life?

Siamese Compassion Cover Art

‘Reviewing’ Poetry with Siamese Compassion

Is it possible to ‘review’ poetry? Every time I sit to write about poems or stand to speak about poetry, this question confounds me. A friend sent a poem of his about 4-5 years ago and asked for my opinions. I read it, a critic would have perhaps trashed it owing to its form. I asked my poet friend if he had written what he thought of and what he thought like. He said yes. I told him it was good. With poems as with any other form of writing, I try to see through the feelings and the honesty in expressing them. If there is a match, I am up for more from you. However, if I find a mismatch or if I feel that the work has become a matter of form over emotions, I am turned off.

The category where form dominates feelings – I call it ‘attempt to poetry’. Attempt to poetry and poetry stand so close at times that it is often impossible to distinguish between the two. Most often attempt to poetry passes off as poetry and readers end up spending time either reading structures, rhymes, rhythms, cadences, and meters or bore themselves to dislike poetry once and for ever. Like for any other form of creativity, it is sad but it is true. I have never attended a poetry workshop, so I keep wondering what they teach there. Teaching to read and write your feelings? Must be an arduous task.

Now, to ‘review’ poetry is in a way reviewing emotions. ‘Reviewing’ poetry is ‘reviewing’ the innermost expressions whispered from the communion of mind and the heart – technically possible but spiritually speaking, it can only be an ‘attempt to review’. To review what the poet views is not plausible unless you become one with the expressions of his poems. One may decide for himself how easy or difficult that is.

I wrote a reply to the poet singing his songs inside the pages of the book that I have on my monitor at present. It is I believe the final draft of the book in a pdf form and has been published in kindle and paperback versions on amazon. The paperback version is a tad heavy on your wallet. The kindle version is sweetly priced and you may want to own it at the earliest. The reply was an answer to the poet on his enquiry on the status of the review that I had committed myself to. The ‘review’ comes much delayed than expected on a ‘conventional scale’ of time as I was reading the poems slow. While Kafka turned into a vermin while writing Metamorphosis, I turned into a snail while reading Kaushal’s poems. I was hit by the strongest of forces ever known to humanity – the force of reality – the nice, the ugly, and the vulgar. I withdrew like a snail each time on being hit, I came out again after some time until at last, the repetition of the lyrical attack found a pattern and I became used to the world of Siamese Compassion. Kaushal Suvarna wanted to check on the progress of review. I offered him my thoughts on ‘reviewing’ as excuse to buy more time and continue with my withdrawal-perseverance game with his creations.

The poems make you think about a lot of things, about a lot of people, about a lot of lives, and about a lot of hypocrisies we exhibit while living this life. From the cover to back and back, the reader never feels left at the mercy of an idealist. You are on a journey of reality and the poet puts you in the zone and leaves you alone there by the end of every poem. You have two options in that room – you either say this is enough and quit or you decide that you want to continue. If you quit, the stage of realism is auto-saved in your mind and you can always come later to resume from where you left. You will find the poet with his arsenal of realism-devices standing there, waiting for you. In case you choose to continue in the world of stark realities, you find the poet standing there nevertheless. However, he doesn’t make a promise to stay with you in between the pauses of two creations. He leaves again by the end, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Now, you have the same two options again. Either way, you will have to come back and continue. If you are not prepared to die today, you will come back to die tomorrow.

If you ask for my suggestion on where to start, start with the title-poem ‘Siamese Compassion’ and then spread your wings toward other pages in the book.

“Sure, one man’s martyr
Is another one’s terrorist
And horses must be shod
And bulls castrated for their own benefit
For society’s a venomous centipede
Whose legs can’t be knocked off the stool
Lest we all tumble in mindless anarchy

 You may have suffered greater tortures than I
Your degree of fortitude may be greater than mine
But I felt your cuts deeper
While you endured in silence
Are we not both brothers in pain?”

(Siamese Compassion, reproduced from Siamese Compassion by Kaushal Suvarna)

These thoughts must have matured through myriads of experiences of life and the shape they have taken in the poems of Siamese Compassion, make Kaushal one of my favorite contemporary poets of the present time. He is honest with his feelings and hence naturally, feelings gain primacy over form, not that I have any complaints against the form. It is also a sad commentary over our system that promotes a superstar culture where mediocre works are making millions through traditional publishing while such work of finesse has to be self-published. I don’t want this book to get lost in oblivion. The poems are to be read on loop until we see through our sins and take the first step towards washing them away. Once more, that brings me to a question. Is it possible to wash away our sins? Is there a hope somewhere to live a life untainted by the artificial idealism that we are born in and taught about but keep violating all our lives? You might have to turn to this book to find that out.

 

To Exist In Soul – Swami Atmasthananda Ji

The Advaita system is nondestructive. This is its glory, that it has the boldness to preach. “Do not disturb the faith of any, even of those who through ignorance have attached themselves to lower forms of worship.” That is what it says – do not disturb, but help everyone to get higher and higher; include all humanity. This philosophy preaches a God who is a sum total. If you seek universal religion which can apply to everyone, that religion must not be composed of only the parts, but it must always be their sum total and include all degrees of religious development.

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A Random Seminal Treatise on Headache

Headache is perhaps the most dangerous weapon of nature against man. No matter how many nuclear weapons you have made, you still have a headache saving them from hackers. No matter how much wealth you have made selling beer in Aidin, you still have a headache of running around in a court of London. In a way, it is a great leveller. It’s almost like nature knew that she would be screwed up by us human, so she put one of her own in our head – an ache.

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Being Humane

Memory is a weird thing. It seems to make you forget the most important things of life and ensure that you remember the least significant of things that happened around you. I either completely forget the birthdays of friends I have known for a long time or embarrass myself by wishing them a month in advance. The craziest part is I clearly remember the birthdays of some long-lost acquaintances whose faces I can barely recollect. My mother had the habit of keeping things safely, only she forgets where she had kept them. She usually brings the entire house down every time she starts looking for something that she had kept safely.Did I mention that memories are weird? Well, they always take you on a detour and you almost forget what you wanted to say in the first place. I wasn’t planning to talk about my mother. In fact, I wanted to talk about one of my English teachers from school. Continue reading “Being Humane”