Midlife crisis? Read this

Quote of the day, on blogging killing good writing

Occasionally over the years I have attempted to argue that factual accuracy is overrated. I won't bore you with the reasons, but it struck me as a good, solid, counterintuitive belief to lug around and display occasionally. Never did it occur to me, until I read Felix's blog post, that it might be possible, without seeming insane, to argue that all aspects of good writing — accuracy, logic, spelling, graceful turns of phrase, wisdom and insight, puns (only good ones), punctuation, proper grammar and syntax (and what is the difference between those two again?) — are all overrated.

Awesome, right?

That wonderful prose was from Michael Kinsley, who worries about the lack of good quality professional writing.

"America was a rich country. Not now"

Once the taxi driver sniffed out that I am from America, he did not hesitate to share with me his opinions of the country and its recent presidents. 

The driver, Tasleem, came out swinging: "America was a rich country. Not now." Before I could think of reasons, he explained that it was because of wars.  "First Afghanistan. Then Iraq."

If only the US hadn't wasted its own resources on a war in Iraq! To think of the enormous destruction to life and property in Iraq from this war alone is enough of a nightmare. 

Tasleem added about the presidents: "I didn't like Bush and Clinton. Obama makes America better."

I didn't want to ask him what his beef was with Clinton.  Bush is understandable; whoever likes Bush, eh :)

We were nearing my destination, Humayun's Tomb.  Tasleem said, "Obama also came to see Humayun's Tomb.  He was here."

I didn't know until then that Obama had been to this historic site.  I wondered what criteria his staff employed in order to decide on Humayun's Tomb.

I wandered through the outer areas of the tomb complex, which were in various states of disrepair.  The Mughal Empire was a rich and powerful entity once, and now the remnants don't adequately convey the might and grandeur that was once the realm of the Mughals.  I hoped that the US was still far away from losing its premier status in the world, and that the end is nowhere on the horizon.

At a spot among the ruins, I set the camera on auto-timer, and got myself a visual proof of my presence amidst the ruins.

And then I finally walked up to Humayun's Tomb itself.  It was magnificent. 

More on why I hate Facebook

Adding to my notes on my love-hate (increasingly "hate" alone!) relationship with Facebook ...

Being on terra cognita (!) means that I can finally read some interesting stuff, like this James Fallows post, in which he summarizes a couple of essays on how Facebook is rapidly changing the internet, for worse.

- Google's business success depended on a worldwide internet structure as open, untrammeled, and transparent as possible. Therefore most of what Google did for its own corporate interest also advanced those aims -- or at least did not impede them.

- Facebook's business success depends on an internet structure that is increasingly "gated" and segregated into proprietary realms. Therefore most of what Facebook has done is to induce maximum sharing of personal information within its propriety sphere, while erecting barriers to the flow of information from one realm to another.

- The shift of business advantage from the "public" to the "private" model means more than a different subset of people becoming zillionaires. It will also affect the fundamental structure of the Internet and its value to the 99.999% of us who are neither Google nor Facebook IPO-beneficiaries. Already its effects are being seen, as all these pieces argue, with Google's promotion of its "G+" and social-search features. Facebook's ascent leaves Google with no choice but to compete on those terms.

Even during the old, old days, when AOL was my dial-up connection to the internet, post-college, I rarely ever made use of its proprietary services.  I was far more keen on whatever was available in the freer internet and the web.  That AOL world was nothing compared to the ultra-creepy Facebook.

Fallows adds:

It's also a battle with important "externality" effects on the rest of us. For instance: Google's success has depended on people spending as much time within its online ecosystem as possible. Thus it had an incentive to offer, free, services like Google Earth, whose commercial predecessors charged subscribers thousands of dollars per year. Or Google Maps, which is expensive to maintain. Facebook's success mainly depends on having users share more and more of their personal information within the Facebook environment. Its business logic leads to fewer "public goods."

To wax geostrategic for a moment, this argument over the Internet "commons" is very much like debates through the post-World War II era about the conflict between relatively open and relatively closed political and economic systems. Ie, the more a closed or beggar-thy-neighbor regime prospers, the worse behavior it evokes -- for survival reasons -- from all other participants.

Yep, Facebook is forcing everybody into evil ways.  That is not a good development at all.  I am sure somebody will soon figure a way out of this Facebook-imposed business model.  I hope.

Cycle-rickshaws: hiring them means dealing with ethical issues :(

I had made reservations to stay at Hotel Ginger, which was right by the New Delhi train station.  From my two previous experiences with Ginger at two other cities, I was confident that I could count on a clean and spacious room, with clean bathrooms.  All for a price that the budget traveler that I am can afford.

The hotel website said it was a 200 meter walk from the station to the hotel.  I told my friend "S" about it. She was familiar with the hotel, and had a suggestion: "as you exit the station, get a cycle-rickshaw.  He might ask for about 30 rupees.  It will be better than you walking, because you won't be able to drag your suitcase through all that dirt."

It was a wonderful and practical suggestion, I thought.

Until ...

... I had to face the situation at 2:30 in the afternoon after I was swept out of the station by the exiting crowds.

I couldn't think of sitting there while another human pedaled away.  When machines power an autorickshaw or a car, it feels different from when a human powers the transport.

"Holy crap!" I thought to myself.

Meanwhile, my brain also recognizes the numbers of cycle-rickshaws there.  Their livelihood, and perhaps their families' welfare, depends on people like me using their services.

If only I had a 1-800-ethicist to call to sort this out!

Finally, I decided to look strictly from the driver's perspective.  Like somebody digging ditches with his muscle power in order to earn his parathas, a cycle-rickshaw driver trades his muscle power for earnings.  In my job, I try to use my brain power to earn my salary.  So, what if I focused only on the dignity of the labor involved and the laborer?

I approached a driver.  Pointing to the hotel, I told him in my awful Hindi, "humko woh Hotel Ginger jaana.  Kitne rupiah?"

He replied "Ththeese."

"S" was so right on the dot with her thirty rupees.

A little uncomfortably I sat on the seat, and he pedaled away.

When we reached the hotel, he stopped outside the gate.  I figured that the hotel didn't want cycle-rickshaws inside the property, and I didn't want to force any issue there.  I got down and paid him 30 rupees.

Later in the evening, when I was walking back after spending a delightfully refreshing couple of hours at the energetic Connaught Place, cycle-rickshaw drivers tried to get me to ride with them.  One after another approached me.  I kept walking.

And then I remembered another instance from a few years ago when I was traveling with my parents.  As we got off the train, dad looked around for a porter.  I told him that I would easily carry the bags.  Dad said it was his way of helping them out--the porters needed to earn money, he said.  So, we ended up hiring one.

I thought that I needed to spend the little bit of money I had, which will mean a lot to the rickshaw-wallahs.  When the next guy approached me, I told him "Hotel Ginger, station ke paas."  He wanted 50 rupees.

I sat while he pedaled away., and decided that I would ignore my own issues with hiring cycle-rickshaws!  Or, perhaps what I ended up doing is the right way after all.

Am a foreigner in a familarly strange land

How much a stranger am I in India?

Here is an example: In Delhi, I stepped out one morning with the intention of hiring an autorickshaw in order to get to a place that was not an easy walk.  A cab driver approached me.  I got into my defensive mode, as usual.

"You want a taxi, sir?"

"No, thanks" I said, because I was not in the mood to spend that much more for a taxi compared to what it might cost me for an auto.

But, he persisted.  The way he spoke and behaved, I was convinced he can be trusted.

I hired him.

As we started driving, he introduced himself as Tasleem, and gave me his business card.  "You can also email me, sir, if you want to go anywhere" he added.  Imagine that; email has become so mundane!  How awesome!

Throughout the drive, I didn't breathe a word about coming from America.  Yet, of course, he knew.  We talked about America later on.  As we neared the destination, Tasleem said with all earnestness, "from here, when you hire an auto, sir, walk a little bit away and then hire.  Right here at this tourist place, there are cheats."  And a little bit more such advice.

I appreciated his helpfulness.  It was also yet another pointer on how much people easily figure out that I am a foreigner.

Especially in places like Delhi, where I was so bloody clueless with my very little Hindi.  I had vastly underestimated the pervasiveness of Hindi in Delhi.

I had an easier time in Quito than in Delhi; the irony is that compared to the few words of Spanish I know, it is almost as if I am expert in Hindi.  Yet, being a tourist was way easier in Quito.  Go figure!

My friend, "S," seemed to be worried sick about me loitering the streets of Delhi.  She called everyday to make sure I was ok, and had suggestions for me.  Similarly, when I didn't call my parents one evening, the following morning dad called and asked "why didn't you call last evening?  I was a little worried."

Perhaps they knew all too well that I will be a fumbling foreigner who would be severely handicapped by the lack of Hindi.

The heights of the lack of Hindi was when I wanted to get an autorickshaw to go to the Red Fort.  I walked up to a driver and said "Red Fort."

He looked at me with a quizzical expression, and asked me "लाल something?"  I recognized only लाल (meaning red) in what he said.  I nodded my head and we proceeded.  I still cannot understand why a touristy Red Fort is not as familiar in its English name as लाल क़िला is.   

That auto driver made it crystal clear that I am a foreigner in a land that is familiar and yet very, very, unfamiliar to me.

I never would have imagined that I will be so much implementing Freeman Dyson's advice to be a stranger during a sabbatical from work :)

Looking back, I can all the more appreciate "S" and "U" telling me, in separate instances, to simply keep my mouth shut and let them do the talking for me too.  Now, that is friendship when they know exactly how to deal with idiots like me.  Thank you, "S" and "U" ...

Photo of the day: at the Taj Mahal

A couple steps more and it is the Taj Mahal.  And here was this person clad in a highly orthodox and religious Hindu outfit, as a tourist (?) going to see the what is essentially mausoleum/tombs of Muslims.  Isn't it how it is all supposed to be--we go around and try to appreciate and understand life that is different from what we might be used to?  A wonderful juxtaposition that I enjoyed noting at the Taj.

Oh, yeah, I was at the Taj Mahal :)