India's Watergate - A 3572 Lakh Crore scam

Conversation from the Corruption Assessment Group (CAG) meeting held this month:

"How much is this mineral water bottle?"

"12 rupees I guess. Why?"

"How much do we pay for 'Corporation water'?"

"Around 6 rupees for 1000 litres"

"OH MY GOD. What a huge loss for the exchequer!"

"Huh. What?"

"People are ready to pay 12 rupees for a litre of water. So by giving out water at 0.006 rupees a litre, the exchequer is losing money. Big money"

"Oh correct. The water should have been auctioned to people. They would have been ready to pay 12 bucks a litre instead of this atrocious Rs.0.006. Wait, let me grab my calculator"

Their rage against the ruling party was visible in their eyes as they screamed in anguish at how public money had been wasted.

After an hour of research, they had this on paper:
Per capita consumption per day = 85 litres
Population of India = 1.2 billion
Loss per litre of water = 12 minus 0.006 = Rs.11.994
Loss per year = 85 X 1,20,00,00,000 X 11.994 X 365 = 44,65,36,62,00,00,000 = 446 Lakh Crores
UPA Rule = 8 years
Loss during UPA rule = 3572 Lakh Crores

"OH DAMNIT. Many thousand times worse than the 2G scam or the Coal-gate scam. Our country has been looted by this government"

He threw the calculator down in rage and began typing the report.

"Release this report right away. This is India's Watergate - a 3500 Lakh Crore Scam"

Call it A Taj Mahal

When reading @thecomicproject 's post about why the TIME 100 Poll does not matter, I was reminded of one such over-hyped poll from 2006-07.

Remember that online poll to select the new 7 world wonders? I'm sure you too got enough SMS and email forwards to guilt trip you into sending in your vote for Taj Mahal, which was languishing in 20th place at the time.

Remember how the hype around it was built? Here's a sample article on CNN IBN -

The 4-step vote inducing process went like this:

Step 1: Bait with a anger-inducing headline/email subject

Step 2: Go OMG OMG OMG!!!!!

Step 3: Announce that Taj Mahal is only 20th. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT - ONLY 20th!!!!1111!!!!!

Step 4: Now that their patriotism has been questioned, watch people swarm in hordes and press vote buttons like their lives depended on it.

The key step in this process was Step 3. That's the step that made you angry and made you want to vote. I mean, how can the Taj Mahal be below some house in Australia or some statue in America. 20th place Goddammit! India should be 1st, not just in the top 7 and definitely not 20th!

Here's the full list of the 21 contenders that comes later in the article:

























Read the list again. Now, do you see why all the hype-masters thought that Taj Mahal was in the 20th place?

Instead of trying to garner a few million votes, the easiest way to bring it back to 1st Place in the polls would have been to rename it "A Taj Mahal"

The Scrawny Man

Steve was blindfolded at the meeting point. The "Contact" put him in a car. An hour later, they both entered an elevator. Steve asked "I'm paying you 80000 bucks for this. Why am I being blindfolded?” The Contact did not reply.

The elevator stopped and a short walk later, the blindfold was removed. He realized he was at one corner of a parking lot. A huge asbestos sheet was leaning against the wall. They stepped behind it and Steve was soon face-down, peering into the small hole on the floor. There he was - the man he had come to see.

The naked man was lying curled up in a room below. It had no doors, no windows, just a toilet-like hole in one corner and an assortment of random stuff strewn everywhere. The place was a mess. The only light source was a small gap in one corner of the ceiling. A tree's branch was sticking in through that hole - a few leaves lay below on the floor.

The man looked like he was from a malnutrition documentary – thin feeble hands and hair all over the body.

“There are people who will try to "save" him. Many a man wants to play hero nowadays" said the Contact explaining the blindfolding.

“What’s his story? How did he get here?"

"See that small gap on the left end of that roof? He fell through it when he was 2 years old. His mom dropped him in and ran away. Something like that."

"He looks like a twenty year old. What has he been doing all these years?"

"Nothing. He's lived inside that room all his life. No human contact ever."

"How did he survive?"

"He eats the oranges from that tree that keep falling in. The human body - it learns, it adapts."

The Contact narrated the story so far. Scrawny Man had survived on oranges for a few years till this Contact “Joe” had spotted him. The place had stunk of feces then. Joe had removed a tile from the floor below when Scrawny Man was asleep and fitted in a hole-shaped toilet. He rolled down fruits and edible stuff through the tree gap all these years. It had taken the man a few months to realize that the hole was a toilet. Joe told Steve how he still eats oranges unpeeled, gets scared of mosquitoes, plays with cockroaches and eats tree leaves.

Steve looked at Scrawny Man's attire. A glove on one hand and a chain around his neck – someone must have slipped these down the gap. Joe said "Your 80 grand fetches you 3 hours. No touching, no talking. You can do whatever "experiment" you want from here. Send in anything you want from that hole - fruits, balls, etc etc."

Steve wondered if Scrawny Man knew a world existed outside this little box he was in. Does he know he earns this Joe character 80 grand just by being an exhibit? A dozen other thoughts entered his mind.

Just then a rat popped out of the toilet. It sniffed around and landed at the sleeping man's feet. Scrawny Man woke up with a start. With unbelievable swiftness, he picked up a twig lying 6 feet away and stabbed the rat in one swipe. He threw the pierced dead animal to one corner of the room and went back to sleep.

Steve began his experiments. He rolled in a few marbles, which were ignored. Then he sent down a paper and a pen. Scrawny Man tried to understand what they were for, before giving up. Next, he threw in an mp3 player that played some loud rock music. This startled the man as he tracked back quickly and curled up against the wall. He let out loud shrieks. The songs played for a few minutes before he finally fiddled with it and then thrashed it on the ground, breaking it in three pieces.

“What sort of a man are you? How can you sell this man’s freedom like this?” Steve bellowed at Joe.

“Don’t lecture me man. As long as people like you pay big money, we’ll continue. If there are no buyers, the seller stops too.”

Steve didn’t know what pissed him off more – the fact that this was happening right in the heart of the city or that he too felt guilty in this human exhibition.

Steve finished his experiments in 2 hours and was blindfolded to be led back. He reached into his pocket and checked-in to Foursquare.

On the way back, he remembered his “Forbidden Safari” in an island last year. He had paid 250000 for it. The safari was not your usual “tribal dance” and bonfire for honeymooning couples. This was for the ultra-rich and curious – the gang who wanted to do something different at any price. You are introduced to some tribals to interact with them, try out whatever you want with them and learn from how they react. It was an experimentation centre. The exhibits were referred to as “tourist virgins” – people who haven’t met other tourists before. The guy paying the 250000 was their first contact from the “civilized” world.

Steve had experimented with the two tribals by reaching out with his hand, talking, showing them stuff from his bag and giving them food. They responded differently to each item. The eight hours with them had given him enough fodder for the bestselling book he wrote later that year. The meeting had ended when one of them pointed at Steve's chain and asked for it. Steve smiled and said no, but the man became angry and thumped the ground with his feet. Steve panicked, handed over his chain and left quickly.

Steve was in deep thought when the blindfold opened. “Don’t play hero and try to save these people. Let them lead their lives. Just write your books and make money.” Joe told him as they bade goodbye.

Steve quickly returned behind the asbestos sheet, this time without Joe (thanks to Foursquare and GPS). He watched Scrawny Man intently, this time with only one purpose. Just as he saw what he was looking for, one of the tiles on the floor moved. Scrawny Man walked up to it and helped pull in a man. They shook hands and exchanged some money and chatted away. It was Joe. Joe was handing over Steve’s money to Scrawny Man.

Steve quickly rushed two floors below and caught Joe and Scrawny Man as they jumped down from that hole. Steve was livid but speechless.

The naked Scrawny Man spoke first – “We’ll give your 80 grand back. And you forget this ever happened.”

Steve replied – “Not 80 grand. I want even my 250 grand back. And my chain too”

Scrawny Man narrowed his eyes and quickly understood. “We shut that business down. The real tribals in that area caught us. This is safer.” he explained.

Steve mumbled out a “Why do you guys do this?”

Joe repeated – “As long as there are buyers like you, sellers like us will exist.”

Steve tried to come up with a retort when Scrawny Man spoke again “We cannot live with the risk that you will squeak someday. Sorry, but don’t take this personally”. With the same speed at which he killed the rat, a nearby iron rod went straight through Steve.

Business was back to normal the next day. A new client threw a mirror down the gap. Scrawny Man acted all confused and broke the mirror into pieces. The client giggled.

I nowhere. He lives

Anupam typed "I wonder how an evil incestful bitch like you is capable of raising children. I hope Child Protection takes your kid away" and pressed Submit. He hated all mommy blogs, and particularly despised this JollyMom's blog. He hated them so much, he was now addicted to these blogs. He checked them everyday and posted nasty comments on posts he felt were either pretentious or sympathy-baiting. He smiled slowly seeing his comment appear under the pseudonym Ma_Puna17.

His roommate, Hari walked in. He banged the door and threw his bag across the room - all to catch Anupam's attention, but Anupam was lost in the laptop. "Stop trolling on the Internet you idiot", Hari screamed to get Anupam's attention. The laptop closed and he said the words Hari wanted to hear - "What happened man?"
"I think Anita is cheating on me." Hari announced.
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, the signs are all there"
"Is it her ex-husband?"
"Not sure. But she sure is distracted nowadays. Also keeps leaving 1 or 2 hours earlier than before."
"The baby must be on her mind"
"No man. The baby is almost always at the grandma's place. Anita is always distracted. Never pays attention to what I say. Something is always on her mind. Or somebody."
"Did you follow her and find out what she's upto?"
"Dude, that's invading her privacy. Not doing that"
"Well, you won't find out if you don't sneak around. If she has nothing to hide, she won't mind you sneaking around, no?"
"Stop lecturing me man - I don't wanna get in trouble. I heard you're a studboy on the Internet. Find me a safe 'high-tech' solution." said Hari and signed off with air-quotes.

Anupam fell silent in thought. A few minutes later, he remembered a conversation with Komal in office and jumped up in excitement - "Hari, does Anita's laptop have an inbuilt webcam?" Hari nodded wondering why he was asking this. "Do you know her IP address?". Hari replied "I don't, but I can get it."

Before Hari could ask him the relevance of the questions, Anupam got to work.

Eight hours later, Anupam explained to a sleepy Hari what he had done in those few hours. "Have you realized that none of the webcams in laptops come with covers?". Before Hari could respond, Anupam continued "Well, my colleague Komal and I were talking that day. She came up with this idea of remotely switching on people's webcams. We laughed it away that day, but I think we can use it now". Hari's comprehension skills were slower than Anupam's speech rate. Before things made sense, Anupam was telling him how their two IPs need to be paired by adding them to a config file in his company's server. Their computer can then switch on/off her camera. The only way it won't work is if she has covered the camera.

When Hari opposed it for being illegal, Anupam guaranteed him that they would not use it to watch her change and other private stuff - it will be used only to see if she's dating someone else.

Anupam chattered away as the yawns began. Hari was finally convinced, and declared to nobody in particular - "A hidden camera that gets switched on by the target herself. Brilliant!". Anupam took a nap for a few hours.

Once Anupam woke up, he pulled up the basic user interface he'd built.
"Gimme the IP address." he asked and rubbed his hands. Once he typed it and pressed enter, the screen immediately showed a bedroom.

"That's her room!" Hari screamed in excitement. They saw some movement in the top left of the screen. Two girls were leaving the room, backs facing the camera. They spoke in barely audible tones and closed the door behind them.
"Did you hear what they were speaking?" asked Hari.
"Not sure. I think I heard 'I nowhere. He lives' or something like that"
"Hmmm. Must be some friend. Let's see who she comes back with." said Hari as they leaned back relaxedly.

Anupam was very proud of his piece of code, especially the decision to switch off any light indicators that may be attached to the camera. He let his mind wander and wondered what mischievous things he can try with this application. Suddenly, he remembered the config file. He logged into his office shared folder and pulled up the config file. The first entry was their own IP paired with Anita's IP address.
"Hari, did you type these IP addresses in the config file? I don't remember typing it here, I just entered it directly on the front-end."
"What is a config file?" he asked confusedly.

That's when the doorbell rang. Komal walked in. Anupam was pleasantly surprised. His question "What are you doing here, Komal?" got no response, just a long stare. Anupam turned pale.

Anita walked in behind Komal. Her face was expressionless. This time, Hari panicked. It took him a while to realize that neither Anita nor Komal even realized he existed. They both were fixated on Anupam.

"I'm sorry Anupam" said Komal. "I didn't know it was you when I helped her"

The config file now made sense to Anupam.

Anita spoke finally "Mister Ma_Puna17, hope this teaches you never to call a girl an incestful bitch".

Anita's words "This is for all the nasty comments" and Anupam's gruesome death was telecasted live on her laptop monitor back in her empty room.

"Always cover your webcam", Komal told a shocked Hari and left silently with Anita.

On the Supreme Court's 2G scam judgement

The "historic" judgement yesterday by the Supreme Court to cancel the 2G licenses issued in 2008 is bound to have many implications. Saying that first-come-first-served logic was used to assign licenses arbitrarily to market players is a subversion of policy, the Supreme Court has opined that allocation of natural resources must be through a fair and transparent method, such as auctions.

This pretty much means that any allocation method other than auctions can be deemed illegal in future. This is based on the assumption that if auctions are not used, foul play is likely. While in this case, it is fairly obvious that there was some foul play behind the scenes at the time of license distribution and hence the FCFS process of allocation was followed, this might not always be the case. 

There surely will be instances in future where auctions are not the best method for distribution. Since the resources once distributed to players and then re-distributed to the general public, higher costs paid originally will inevitably be passed on to the customers. So, if there is a highly competitive bidding process with highest-bidder-wins-all logic, the end consumer is the one likely to suffer the most. The allocation decisions will have to be taken not just based on the bidding amount, but also based on other factors like redistribution ability, past experience, speed to market, existing distribution network and other factors applicable to each resource. 

Coming back to the 2G scam, the guilt ought to be proved based on the reasons behind why A.Raja (and others) acted the way they did. There definitely is a reason why he went with the policy decisions he made - the last minute deadline changes, the arbitrary allocation process and the choice of players. This reason, yes you guessed it right, is related to money. This money trail is what should have been used to prove the guilt of those involved. The only money trail exposed so far is the 200Cr loan given by Swan Telecom to Kalaignar TV. This loan is hardly evidence for being a bribe, because of two reasons - the money came on the official books not in a Swiss bank account and that the loan was returned within quite a short period. Both these reasons make this look more like a loan than a bribe. Because of this, it is difficult to conclude that A.Raja made any money from the 2G scam (though many people think he made Rs.1.76 Lakh Crores) and hence convict him of bribery/corruption. 

Either the CBI has been very inept at finding the real money trail or Raja and team have been very very good at hiding the money trail. With the absence of a money trail, the courts have had to find different methods of convicting the obviously-guilty. And this is what we are seeing - the courts commenting on policy-making decisions and having opinions about the suitability of auctions.  

The necessity to pronouce Raja and gang guilty has resulted in the Supreme Court opining on matters it should stay out of. We will realize the impact of this mistake when a future such case comes up and this SC ruling is pulled up.

Response to FirstPost's Unfollow-The-PMO post

This is about Firstpost's article "Time to unfollow the PMO on Twitter" ( http://bit.ly/zY1jot ). When the article was posted online, I tweeted this:

The link got sent around and reached the person in Firstpost who posted it (@AnantRangaswami). After a few back-and-forth tweets, he asked me and @nikhilnarayanan to send him a more detailed clarification of why we felt FirstPost was being unfair. So here goes.

=========================================

FirstPost is a new-age media house that caters more to the Twitter-audience than to the newspaper-reading audience. It is a fun-loving yet analytical, light-hearted yet informative and of course, instant and trendy media house. So, it plays along with Twitter - adding hashtags to its tweets (sometimes excessively), add puns to its tweets (sometimes funny) and retweets other people's jokes. I cannot think of any other media twitter handle that does any of these.

When one of their writers spends a lot of time on Twitter and soaks in all that happens there, it is easy to get carried away into analyzing an issue the way their Timeline is analyzing it. For serious issues, this sometimes works fine - people genuinely have different and thought-provoking opinions and hence Twitter helps get a good two-sided perspective on things. Filter out the jokes and irrational anger from the timeline and you can see some good thoughts. Take both sides of the opinion from these, put them together and you have a well-balanced article that everyone will read.

But for non-serious issues (like - why the PMO twitter handle is a failure), the analysis on Twitter is substituted by jokes. The jokes come easy based on the usual themes of making fun of the PM - PM doesn't speak, PM is weak and of course Sonia Gandhi controls the PM. When the timeline is filled with these tweets (many of them quite funny) and a writer decides to churn out an article, the output sometimes sounds like a serious version of these joke tweets.

And this is what I think is wrong with the "Time to unfollow the PMO on Twitter" article.

It draws on two things from the Twitter account - the fact that the account does not follow anyone yet and that it did not tweet about issues like inflation, corruption, reforms, Rushdie or Norway. And makes the following conclusion in the summary - 

The PMO account will be broadcasting, not interacting. It will tell all of us what the PMO wants us to know. It will not be engaging and cerebral, it will be banal and boring, as seen by the first few tweets. It will not be a meeting place for, say, opinion-leaders and thinkers of the country and the prime minister’s office.

The sample size for this conclusion is one day of tweeting. Think about it - just one day. What did most of us do on the first day on Twitter? Even if we do remember it, is it an indicator of what or how we tweet today? 

For all you know, the conclusion may turn out to be true - but it still does not justify this article so early. Now, suppose the handle did tweet about those serious issues on Day 1 - it would not have justified a victory article either. Because, well, neither of these conclusions can be made with just a day of tweeting. 

The article would have been more apt if it had mentioned about the PMO handle, that it is an attempt to be forward-looking, about its slow start, about the confusion of PM-vs-PMO author, about what it expects from the handle in future and some comparisons to other such handles in other departments/countries. What it does not need is a obituary on day one.

Let's wait and watch before declaring victory or sending it a Rest-In-Peace card.

Drip drip

Mr.Rao lay awake in bed. A quick glance at the tableclock - 645PM it read. He got out slowly, wondering how to kill time today. When you're 82, there aren't many things to look forward to. He looked around frantically for ideas. The house was eerily silent - the only sound from a distant leaking tap that made rhythmic drip-drip sounds.

*drip... drip*

The phone rang in the adjacent room. It resonated across the empty house. The big smile on his face suggested he was happy he found something to do. As he ambled towards the phone, he got tired and began sulking. What sort of an idiot disturbs you at this ungodly hour, he wondered.

"Hello, is Rudran there?" the faceless voice said.

"Rudran?", Rao cursed inaudibly. "No such person here. Wrong number". He banged the phone down.

*drip... drip*

He stood there wondering what he had planned to do when he got out of bed. The doorbell rang. Another slow walk begun. He looked through the peep-hole. A tie-wearing bag-carrying man stood outside.

"What do you want?" Rao bellowed.

"I've come to fix your tap."

*drip... drip*

"My taps don't need no fixing."

"But Sir, you were the one who called me over."

"No, of course not." Rao's voice faded as he said that. Maybe he really had called him, he couldn't recollect anything from the morning.

Realizing the opportunity, the man said "Sir, please go check your second bathroom. That's where you said there is a leaking tap. I won't come in if it's not leaking."

Rao closed the peephole and walked toward the dripping sound. The tap really was leaking. That man couldn't have known that unless I told him, he rationalized. Rao let the man in and pointed towards the bathroom.

*DRIP... DRIP*

The man went in with a few tools as Rao - too tired from all the walking - sat on the couch. The dripping sounds stopped a moment later.

The man stepped out and asked "Isn't it time for your medicine? Shall I get you some water?"

Rao was too tired to notice the inconsistency. He nodded and asked the man to get his tablets too. The man walked straight to the medicine cabinet, pulled out three tablets and handed it over. After two tablets, Rao asked the man his name. "I'm Rudran", he said as the third tablet went in. Rao's eyes widened with surprise and non-comprehension. Dizziness hit him very quickly and he closed his eyes.

The phone rang again and Rudran picked it up quickly. "Yeah yeah, of course it worked." Rudran said and listened. He continued "Moron, I told you not to call the landline - you could've messed it up. Anyway, I'll speak to you tomorrow. Bye". Rudran slid silently into one of the rooms and closed it behind him.

Next day morning, Mr.Rao woke up and headed straight to the noises from the bathroom. Rudran walked out from the bathroom with a spanner in his hand. Dripping sounds were back behind him.

*drip... drip*

Rao smiled and asked "Did the entry work alright yesterday?"

Rudran replied "Yes, this method always works. I'll try and come home before sunset today." and left.

As Rao waved him goodbye, Rudran said "I hate this after-sunset memory loss. I want to enter my house normally for once, papa."

*drip... drip*