Noble laureate Amartya Sen, whom The Economist refers to as an ‘economist who thinks like a philosopher’, one who can ‘theorise without oxygen at any height’, recently released his latest book, The Idea of Justice.

On August 5, Sen delivered a lecture in Kolkata drawing upon the premise of his latest book. Media reports of the lecture highlighted eyeball-grabbing issues of Singur land acquisition and the role of trade unions that Sen touched upon during the lecture. Then the reports went on to convey his lament made during the same lecture that we, as a society, give far more importance to broader issues like Singur land acquisition or the Indo-US nuclear deal than we give to the perennially nagging issues like poverty and undernourishment.

Puzzled, I looked up the web for a copy or video file of the lecture, but in vain. So I bought the book instead. It has been three days since then and I am yet to move past the preface (in my defence, the book is not exactly a bedtime read. A cursory look suggests that the prose is more technical and less anecdotal than that of The Argumentative Indian). Nonetheless, the little that I have gathered from book reviews and recent media interviews tells me that The Idea of Justice explores exciting ways to address social issues that have troubled us for long.

Sen questions the widely accepted approach to social justice — famously propounded by the American philosopher John Rawls in The Theory of Justice – that social justice can be delivered by creating perfectly just institutions. To wit, if we have to make healthcare or primary education accessible to all, we must create institutions or systems to ensure the same.

Sen proposes that a more efficient way to deliver social justice would be to identify social injustices and weed them out. That is, in the above example, we must recognise where and why people are being deprived of primary education or healthcare, and correct such anomalies.

Sen’s latest book, which has been in the works for about 25 years by his own admission, is perfectly timed. As evidenced by our social indicators, the Rawlsian way of creating just institutions, systems or mechanisms hasn’t proved very effective in our country so far.

It is about time that the myriad social mechanisms that exist in our country should deliver what they promise, for a change. Insufferably huge amounts of resources and man-hours have been invested in creating and managing such institutions, but we continue to have millions of people among us who will never be able to realise their full potential – something a democracy must ensure in principle – just because they don’t have access to proper healthcare, nutrition or basic education. I, like everyone else, hope that Sen’s treatise on justice sparks off a nationwide debate that influences our approach to development.

Infosys co-founder Nandan Nilekani will take charge as the chairperson of the Unique Identification Authority of India (UDAI) project next week. That is when he will move into his new office. (Currently, he is sitting in the Planning Commission office, a Business Standard report said today). One can’t help but think of an imaginary scenario of his first day in the new office. Here it goes.

Morning, 10 AM sharp. Nandan Nilekani enters his new cabin. There is not much in the room except a plush chair, a large wooden desk with a computer and a phone neatly placed on top. He picks up the phone and dials the switchboard operator’s number.

Nilekani: Good morning. This is Nandan Nilekani. Can you send in someone who can help me with some information, please?

Operator: Good Morning sir. Whom do you wish to call in? Do you have someone in particular in mind?

Nilekani: Umm. Have I been given an assistant or a secretary?

Operator: We don’t employ assistants here, sir. Too little outlay. Secretaries we have many. Chief secretary, under secretary, joint…

Nilekani: …No, no. Not that kind. I meant someone who could help me get things rolling.

Operator: Okay. Let me see. Well, I think I know just the right person for the task. I am sending in our secretary a-la-carte, Mr Pandeyji.

Several hours later, Pandeyji walks in.

Nilekani: [After exchanging the usual pleasantries] Pandeyji, one of our immediate big tasks would be to see how we could integrate our unique ID database with other relevant databases like those of passports, ration cards, job cards and PAN. Do we have an upgraded IT system here?

Pandeyji: Integration not possible. We need new licenses from Oracle, Microsoft. We don’t have much money with us. Too little outlay.

Nilekani: Alright. We will use Open Source.

Pandeyji: [Alarmed] Open source? Across all departments, we have banned everything that has anything “Open” in it.

Nilekani: When did that happen?

Pandeyji: Ever since the Open General Licence scheme came into force. It wreaked havoc on our personal, er, public finances.

Nilekani: Alright. I will talk to Paul. He is a good friend. I am sure he will be able to help. This is in the interest of the people, after all.

Pandeyji: But, sir, Paul was robbed two weeks ago.

Nilekani: [Shocked] Where? How?

Pandeyji: Shortly after the Union Budget speech. I heard an analyst say that the government is robbing Paul to pay Peter. Sirjee, when the government is done with Paul, he won’t be in a position to help.

Nilekani: [Relieved] No, no, I was talking about Paul Allen, Microsoft’s co-founder. By the way, “Robbing Paul to pay Peter” is not the correct expression. It is the other way round.

Pandeyji: Sir, you are duly advised not to lose sweat over improper forms of expression around here. Did you not hear the honourable finance minister read out the Budget?

Nilekani: [Ignoring the last comment] By the way, why do I see so few people in this building? Are we not sufficiently staffed yet? I think I gave my recommendations some time back.

Pandeyji: Actually, we were, but most officers have applied to other ministries or departments for transfers. Some have even moved out.

Nilekani: [Concerned] Why?

Pandeyji: Our project was allocated Rs 120 crore in the Budget. On the other hand, the Delhi Police got Rs 3,000 crore, the National Ganga Project got Rs 562 crore. You see sir, the greater the mess, the bigger the outlay. Officers feel there is a slim chance you will be messing things up around here, seeing your track record. So most officers want out.

Nilekani: [Animated] Forget the outlay. I have been given a free hand!! Nobody gets a free hand!

Pandeyji: [Smirking] Good you mentioned that term. In fact, “free hand” is among the first few terms of which I need to explain the official meanings to you, tomorrow.

Nilekani: Hmm. I think I know the meaning already, but why tomorrow? Why not today?

Pandeyji: It’s 2 minutes to 5:30 PM. When the clock strikes 5:30, I am going to turn into a pumpkin. Is there something else I can help you with?

Nilekani: Not really. Is there something else you want to help me with, before you turn into a pumpkin?

Pandeyji: Arrey haan. I have read your book, Imagining India. I like it a lot. Actually, I have thought of a nice title you can use for the book’s sequel.

Nilekani: [Intrigued] And what could that be?

Pandeyji: Keep Imagining, India.

Nilekani casts an impatient glance at his watch. The minute hand looks agonisingly sluggish.

With the auctioning of third generation (3G) and Broadband Wireless spectrums sometime during this year, we will reach closer to the dream where telephony and internet connectivity could become ubiquitous in rural areas. And everyone in our remote and scattered villages can access essential services such as distance education, health care and mainstream commerce.

With 3G, and introduction of mobile-commerce, a migrant in Mumbai can transfer money to his family living in a remote village via his mobile phone. This could also help him circumvent the eighteenth century postal network and generally uncooperative postal workers where a money transfer 100 kilometers away through an ordinary money order, even today could take more time then it would take him to deliver it in person, have lunch, and just have enough time left to catch up with old friends from the village school.

Much has been said about how technology creates a level playing field for everyone. We rarely spare a thought to how technology has saved us every time it seemed we would be sucked into the horrors faced by third world countries, when we had every ingredient necessary to invite such a catastrophe.

Needless to say that Internet saved us the trouble of developing world-class products and competing with international companies when the economy opened up in early nineties and we didn’t have the resources to make up for the lost time. Heck, it even saved us from the ignorance of our policy planners, when the decaying urban and industrial infrastructure could have choked whatever talent and entrepreneurial resilience we had left in the country.

Now Internet is even giving impetus to young Indian entrepreneurs who are setting up businesses online with shoestring budgets – even if the best they can come up with is selling cinema tickets, blog advertisements or chicken salads off the Internet.

However, we are still many years away from attaining first-world standards in numerous areas. Since technology has come to our aid every single time in the past, I am thinking how it can help us rid ourselves of ills that are holding us back. Here are a few ideas I have come up with. Technology innovators and patent usurpers, please take note.

Our education sector is in doldrums. Things have reached such a nadir that Kapil Sibal, the new HRD minister recently said that syllabuses of IITs and IIMs need to be changed and nobody raised an eyebrow. It is an accepted fact in the industry that a good number of graduates from our universities and institutes are unemployable. The quality of scientific research done locally is not much to speak about either.

Sundry columnists blame regulatory bodies like the UGC and AICTE and the Medical Council of India for not having been able to keep up with the rest of the world. However, anyone who has been brave enough to go through the rigmarole of our educational system knows where the real fault lies. It lies in the dispassionate way an average teacher takes to his profession. There are exceptions, of course, in urban areas or at top ranked universities. But I am talking about a general sense of apathy at all levels. A whole epic can be written about this issue and I will save it for some other time.

To come to the point, I have reasons to believe I have found the real reason. So I am looking for a way in which technology can turn disinterested teachers into passionate mentors, who would then mould the lives of all students as if their own lives depend on it.

The solution could lie in a technology that, for now, can be called the Progeny Projector (PP) technology. I see a future in which all classrooms in the country are fitted with Progeny Projectors. Here’s how they work: They are activated when a teacher enters a classroom, and the PPs emit three-dimensional image holograms that envelope every student in the class and make them appear like the teacher’s own children and their close cousins. Needless to say that nobody in our country messes up with anyone’s life where family is involved.

Then there is the more grim issue of malnourished children. Forty six per cent of children under the age of five are malnourished – over 2.4 million die every year due to malnourishment. All ideas have failed. Integrated Child Development Services (ICDS) and Midday meals haven’t made much of a dent. NREGS is new and it will take years to affect a total change — corruption has already found its way there. Thought leader Gurcharan Das talks about food stamps, but that may leave us with another problem – that of a malnourished bureaucracy in the countryside.

I have a solution for this issue as well. This technology is called KCS, which is short for Karma Cursing Sensory technology. Without a single exception, every Indian mother curses her Karma for all ills that befall her family, especially her children. We can have KCS devices installed in all our villages.

Whenever a child cries from hunger, the mother will curse her karma or destiny and the KCS devices would record the cursing frequency on an hourly basis. The sensors, in turn, could decide the karma of the local development officer appointed by the government entrusted to implement the myriad childcare schemes.

For example, 10 beeps could mean the officer loses his salary for a week. Fifty beeps could mean no deputation in Delhi and 100 beeps could ensure permanent posting for him in that area. More than 500 beeps would blow off the fuse of the generator that is supplying electricity to his house in a village that most certainly is devoid of power. Trust me, this would work like magic.

Another (and the final one, for the lack of space) social malaise for which I would like a disruptive technology, is: crime against women. Eve teasing is common on our streets, in railway compartments, outside colleges. Women are not safe inside houses either. Yesterday, the Supreme Court expressed concern that bride burning cases are on the rise. If eve teasers and molesters can’t get them, moral policemen most certainly will. All measures have seemingly failed.

However, I have ideated a disruptive force for this as well. It answers to the name of AMS, short for an Anti-Molester Suit. It is a no-brainer, actually. We are speaking of an ordinary jacket or a vest lined with electric wires on the outside, which in turn is connected to a small battery embedded in the jacket. The AMS can be fitted with an array of devices– a GPS device, a fish-eye camera, a high-decibel yeller, etc.

When a molester or a moral policeman approaches a woman, she can activate various AMS devices based on her threat perception. The high-decibel yeller could be her first line of defense. However, knowing how men react in our public places when women scream for help, this would not be of much use.

High-voltage electric wires would be most effective in such situations. Any type of indecent touching and the high-voltage electric shocks are activated that can render the assaulter sterile, temporarily or permanently, depending on the audacity of the act.

The suit will be fire-proof as well, and could smell kerosene or any flammable material from a distance and send calls for help, along with images of the scene for evidence, to the local police station, for instance. The possibilities are endless.

As I wrote earlier, I have disruptive ideas that can rid our country of all ills. Corruption; divisive politics; paucity of ideas, quality and originality in architecture and creative arts; poor infrastructure. You name it, I have a technology for it.

Sunday was World Laughter Day. Laughter, true to the term, is a funny word. Add the letter ‘S’ to it and it becomes slaughter. Slaughter makes me think of the swine. Utterance of the word swine could bring someone — someone in uniform perhaps — to minds of security people today who have been asked to check all travellers at the Mumbai International Airport for swine flu in this sweltering heat.

Sweltering heat makes me think of Isha Koppikar who will be married to restaurateur Timmy Narang this year. Ms Koppikar was the last crush of my life. Is it that I have outgrown an age when I could have crushes on people or is it that Bollywood has run out of eligible crush material for me? I would like to go with the latter, but the former, unfortunately, is true.

Crush reminds me of the 35-year old Lalbaug bridge that is being demolished today. It falls smack dab in the middle of my route to the office. No, it may fall smack dab in the middle of my route to the office today, I am afraid, since Mumbai Municipal Corporation is overseeing the demolition, which is why I am writing this from home. This speaks volumes of the trust I have in the municipal body. Now the word body makes my mind wander a lot more than most other words, but it takes me right now to “Elements of Style” – the bible of English grammar – in which co-author William Strunt has expressed hatred for the term “student body”, and insisted that “studentry” should be used in its place, since it is clearer and comes without the ghoulish connotation he sees in the former term.

Studentry, however, is a word I have not been able to find in any dictionary so far. Far is what this passage is from humour, and talking of humour, Jay Leno is leaving NBC TV’s The Tonight Show after 17 memorable years, ironically, around the time when the world is celebrating laughter. Incidentally, The Tonight Show has spawned a number of Indian talk shows, notably “Movers and Shakers” (which became drab when Mr Suman tried to outshine the show’s script).

Talking of Jay Leno and talk shows, thoughts drift to a promising Bollywood star named Farhan Akhtar who used a Leno joke from the latter’s “the economy is so bad” series in a recent Oye It’s Friday (OIF) episode without giving due credit.

Talking about OIF and copying, Mr Akhtar also lifted a whole gag from Comedy Inc., an Australian sketch comedy TV series – the “check please” skit – and used it in another recent episode of his show. Now that I have mentioned Akhtar, I am thinking a recent movie of his where he squealed a song that had nursery rhymes for lyrics (Aasma Hai Neela Kyun, Paani Geela Geela Kyun Gol Kyun Hai Zameen, for instance) and passed it off as a rock number, head-banging and a euphoric adult crowd thrown in for good measure.

But I have made a promise to myself that I won’t get angry today, keeping in with the spirit of laughter day (hey, that rhymed! Mr Akhtar’s rock star rendition is contagious, I say), so I turn to Jay Leno again. As a tribute to the master of anti-establishment humour, I have tried and come up with a non-conformist joke. Though I’d rather an Indian comedian does this one, but alas, I guess that would be an improbability as we have become too touchy of late. So here it goes:

“Our supreme court recently ruled that irretrievable breakdown can’t be used as a ground for dissolution of marriage.

That’s such a relief. You see, marriage is an institution, and if irretrievable breakdown becomes a ground for an institution’s dissolution, guess which one would be next on the block?”

(Pause)

“The Indian legal system!”

I visited Mehendipur last week. Located around 100 km north of Jaipur, Mehendipur is a small kasba off the Agra-Jaipur highway. You must thank your stars if you haven’t heard of this place. Mehendipur houses a shrine that draws millions of people every year who come there to exorcise evil spirits.  

A vast number of devotees alight at the nearest bus stop (about four kilometres away from the town), fall prostrate on the ground and scrape through the dust and the tar of the lone street all the way to the shrine.

Some walk barefoot under the high desert Sun for days to make it to the shrine. To atone for my share of sins, I took a non-AC taxi from Jaipur.

Why was I found last week at such a place, that too on a holiday? I don’t believe in evil spirits. But I don’t believe in true love either, though people say it exists. And I won’t mind checking the existence of these or other paranormal activities — which is why I landed up in the mofussil town last week.

On the day of my arrival, my co-traveller who is also an old friend told me that the evening Aarti that day is the occassion when the Mahant of the temple will exorcise spirits off the troubled subjects.  

That night, my friend and I left our inn half an hour before the scheduled time and trudged our way to the shrine. Weaving through a maze of dark, narrow alleys, we reached a large field that most likely functioned as a school playground by day.

I noticed hundreds of people — men, women and children — who stood almost motionless forming a crowd that stretched accross the playground. Making our way through the sea of people, we reached a courtyard that had a small temple nestled right in the center of the enclosed space. 

A raised cement platform surrounded the main temple, and an iron fence lined the main courtyard. Between the raised platform and the iron fence, sat scores of people who were said to be possessed by the evil spirits. My friend had it all worked out. Minutes before the Aarti, he gestured to me that I must jump over the iron fence and join the “possessed” devotees on the other side, so I could “get a closer feel” of the rituals. Then, ignoring my mild protests, my childhood friend tossed me over into the welcoming bed of hands raised in the air on the other side of the spiked stucture. 

Once inside, I managed to have a look at people around me.  The entire “possessed” group of devotess consisted solely of women — mostly young girls, except perhaps for two or three women who would be in their early or mid-thirties. To my dismay, the only man I managed to spot in the assembly lay writhing on the floor right next to my left foot. The unfortunate soul had his legs tied together with an iron chain, I noticed later. 

I looked back and thought my friend flashed an evil smirk in my direction.

Shortly after, a diminutive man emerged from the temple, held up a huge brass gong in the air and started pounding it with a hammer. One by one, some of the women seated around me rose to their feet and began swaying their heads to the sounds of the chanting and the gong.  All this while, I stayed crouched on the ground.

Soon enough, the chanting, the gonging and the head-swaying reached a spine-chilling crescendo.

Meanwhile, a strange thing had happened. I was not afraid anymore.

I had begun to notice a number of similarities among the head-swayers around me.  

To begun with, not one of them was moving in a reckless fashion – each one was careful not to hurt the one moving next to her.

Not a single girl had looked ungainly all this while, even when carrying out one of the most unsightly of acts known to mankind, well, at least to me.  Each of the girls had tied her dupatta around her waist like she knew what the evening had in store for her.  And all of them had long, well-oiled hair that had been left untied — it lent a haunting aura to the whole sight.

But the most striking similarity of all had to be their physical attributes. 

All of them — young and old — were pretty. Not above-average pretty, but head-turning pretty (pun unintended).  They had sharp features, high cheekbones, well-set eyes, shapely figures – every single woman was attractive in her own way (this factor is not lost on the town folk. Local lore has it that evil spirits prefer the company of pretty girls).

Was I reading too much into this? Is there something more to this phenomenon? I have my theories and I am sure believers have their theories too. One of mine goes thus: hell is life of a girl growing up in a small Indian town.

But we will spare everyone the profundity and try and find some peace in the thought that, fortunately for some small town girls, there are places like Mehendipur where they can let go of their demons, once in a blue, full moon. 

As for me, I now want to believe in ghosts. Still not sure about true love, though.

A Business Standard editorial piece published today suggests that India’s GDP growth in the fourth quarter of FY2008 will likely be slower than the 5.3 per cent growth recorded in the preceding quarter of the fiscal.

Hang on, there is more bad news.

In his latest column published in ToI’s Sunday edition, Swaminathan S Ankelasaria Aiyar ventured a calculated guess about how long this downturn could last. He wrote:

 “We should expect slowdown to continue for several quarters…We may expect some small improvement in the last quarter of 2009, but a return to a fast growth will have to wait till late 2010, or even 2011.”

Till about a month ago, many analysts were predicting that the Indian economy will be back on track by the first or the second quarter of fiscal 2010. Aiyar says that we may have to wait till 2011.

Even now, even by the most optimistic estimates, customers will not be beating down our doors at the end of three years.

All analysts have admitted at some point or the other that all their upturn-cometh predictions are based on a number of assumptions – like the US economy will show signs of recovery within the next two quarters and India’s fiscal stimulus doses would kick in before the next quarter. Some are also factoring in the emergence of a disruptive force (like rural connectivity through 3G networks) that would do unimaginable things to Indian economy like the Internet did the last time.

Putting all estimates together, it would be safe to say that the Indian economy may see at least three years of sluggish growth before it gains tempo. And that the next two years in particular are going to be painful for everyone concerned in the corporate world.

It will be especially tough for young executives — mostly in their mid-to-late twenties — who have joined corporate workforce in large numbers during the last six to seven years. These executives will see tough and uncertain conditions at workplace perhaps for the first time in their careers.

Estimates say that the slowdown has claimed around 10 lakh jobs across industry sectors since September 2008. And the churn has just begun.

The young executives have gone through the first part of the course correction drill. Lifestyle changes have been brought about – new home and car loans have been put off or cancelled; as for the ones already taken, distress calls to parents have been made; many have applied to management colleges where they could sit out the storm while it lasts.

Those who are still around could face deeper cuts as time passes by.  With every turn of the screw, they will lose some of the baggage accumulated during happy times – best friends will get busy, long time suitors will disappear and quicksilver spouses will vanish. In short, it will not be an easy ride.

Tough as it will be, this will also serve as an introspection time for the first-generation corporate worker. When the new convert will compare his shaky corporate career with the serene vocation of those of his father’s generation – who receive regular, decent hikes in salaries and pensions regardless of the state of the economy – he will be forced to think that there is some merit after all in the largely unenterprising but secure government jobs.

Recent media reports highlight a renewed interest among youth in government vocations.

While all this plays out, some of these first-timers will stick out these tough months, some nervously toiling at one job, others moving from one job to another (if they find them, that is) and some barely scraping through with freelance work and family support. But stick around they would, learning and unlearning things in few years what they would normally take a decade to discover.

All members of this particular tribe will have one trait in common, one reckons. Somewhere down the road, these guys will figure the real reason they want to stick to their line of work for, and will then decide that this particular reason is bigger than everything else they stand to lose during this phase. The rest, as they would tell you later, was easy.

No prizes for guessing who will stand to make the most of new opportunities when the tide turns.