@categorical_imp

Sunday, November 7, 2021

My rethinking of liberalism, and J. Sai Deepak's book

My twenties pulled me away in a direction which, at the time, I had no doubt was the single direction of progress. I surrounded myself with first-principle thinkers, ambitious and talented people with backgrounds in economics and the liberal arts. Over time, I discovered I had was most comfortable practicing and preaching the following values:

  1. Equitable economic upliftment is the singular lens through which a government's performance must be evaluated - the economy must grow, and the disparity between the rich and poor must diminish. This alone, along with the development of public good such as health, sanitization and education - must be the focus of a government; other aspects such as religion, language, and culture are talking-points for elections, and are best avoided. 
  2. We must understand the history of humanity as a power-struggle, where the people try to seize and retain power at the top while the masses try to throw off the yoke. There are no sides, no better characters or worse; there is only power and those trying to take hold of it. Therefore, if one is in a position of privilege at present, it probably owes to historical wrongs committed by their ancestors against other peoples and one must therefore be conscious of this privilege and atone for it
  3. The world is moving towards a classless, global utopia where people can exercise their individual freedoms and extract the most benefit by selling their skills and ideas in an impartial global marketplace. This marketplace, since it is created by humans around the world, will ensure that the best and most interesting ideas, technologies and projects thrive (weaker/imperfect ideas and projects will perish). Additionally, it is beneficial to develop one's own personality to suit this global marketplace.
  4. The individual has priority over any other social grouping - the individual's rights and desires are sacrosanct, and the individual can practice or believe as they wish, unless they intrude upon the liberties of another; other persons, social groups or orders may not comment or pass judgement on the individual's choices, practices or beliefs, as this would be tantamount to the reduction of the individual's freedoms.
  5. First principle thinking is the basis of true knowledge - every system devised by human-beings must be questioned without the historical baggage using only essential axioms that are known to be true. The contrary is also valid: one must doubt every doubtable thing until one is left is pure truth (the Cartesian position).
In other words, I think of my 20s-self as a well-rounded liberal, which a penchant for solving problems like an engineer (move fast, break things if you must). Over the past few years, I find my momentum in this direction arrested. In some ways, I've even made a U-turn; a few things I valued earlier and some ideas I held true now seem childish, even laughable.

I attribute my 'change of heart' to the literature I read and the ideas I let myself be exposed to. Extracting myself from the modernist, materialist, liberal-capitalist heartland allowed me to question the truths I once thought axiomatic. They were my first-principles, until they were questioned.

The most interesting changes in my thinking have come from engaging with the histories of Western and Indian philosophy, and from familiarizing myself with various historical narratives. One such work that is now fresh in my mind is J. Sai Deepak's "India that is Bharat". As someone who has followed Sai Deepak extensively on social media for his well-articulated views, I recently found myself emotionally moved when he decimated Shashi Tharoor's Nehruvian idea of India in a popular debate. I thereafter proceeded to buy his book - which is the first book of a trilogy.




In his book, I found well-researched material and viewpoints that helped me further refine and develop my own views on various subjects. Going back to the philosophical U-turn I mentioned earlier, I believe my positions now can be articulated as follows:
  1. An elected government has civilizational responsibilities also - Equitable economic development and the improvement of public goods are vital performance-metrics of any government, but its responsibilities do not end there. Adequately representation and the protection of the languages, culture, religions, artforms and the perspectives of its people are responsibilities of a government, in the interest of the continuity of a civilization.
  2. Historical narratives are always ideologically driven, and one must grapple with particular facts and refrain from simplistic grand narratives (like "history of humanity is a power-struggle"). There are better and worse characters and institutions in our history, and we must learn about them. There are also better and worse form of oppression, which have different effects on our present day societies. One was most likely the oppressor as well as the oppressed simultaneously at various points in the past. Equating various privileges and/or disadvantages create false narratives that carry only political value.
  3. The world is moving in a direction embedded with a particular ideology of power. This is no utopia. One must fight against this foreign ideology (that Sai Deepak terms coloniality) in order to create a respectful future with space for one's own worldview. As a corollary, it may be stated that the global marketplace is rigged. Unless the rules of the game are challenged, one's own place in the world is doomed.
  4. The individual has certain inalienable rights, but there are places where societal (cultural) groupings must have priority over the individual. To view oneself as a family, tribe or nation is a human trait - and there are traditions and situations where these families, tribes and nations gain priority over the individual. Liberalism strives to make people autonomous and "free" (there is no choice to "not be free"). It aims to atomize individuals as "blank slates", free from all groupings and biases, so that they can be "rational independent actors". Liberalism claims that all bonds and ties (including one's family) must be freely chosen, and this allows corporations to have workers without any bonds, so that they can wage-slave away. It is Capitalism which thus profits from liberalism's end-game.
    Moreover, liberalism is premised on an abstract conception of individual selves as pure choosers, whose commitments, values and concerns are possessions of the self, but never constitute the self. Since our choices are never truly free (but shaped by our societal bonds) and because our choices and bonds shape the identity of our selves, the theory of the self must include room for cultural membership and for non-chosen attachments and commitments.
  5. First principle thinking fails when you operate on the wrong level of abstraction, with incorrect base axioms, or without considering the practical side of problem-solving. This is especially important while solving problems at a societal scale, and creates a strong case to actually understand the prevailing worldviews and think about problems within these frameworks (e.g. immersing oneself in sampradayic schools and understanding why things are a certain way and proceeding to use tools within the system, may be a better problem-solving approach than reading a PDF summary of a philosophy and proceeding to challenge it from "first principles").
Apart from helping me develop on some of these ideas, J. Sai Deepak's book is an important work to understand the essence of Indian constitutional secularism as contrasted with Bharatiya civilizational acceptance of a plurality of views. It also explains the coloniality of English-language education in India, and the very reason why this blogpost is written in English and not in Tamil, Hindi or Sanskrit.

Notwithstanding the latter portion of the book which carries several essays, letters, minutes and speeches verbatim (as Sai Deepak goes out of his way to demonstrate primary sources, lest it be said that he is misquoting/misinterpreting evidence) making this book more tedious read than it should have been (this will, I'm afraid, come at the cost of some readership), "India that is Bharat" is an essential read for a 21st Century Indian.

Sunday, September 26, 2021

The Idea of India - Sunil Khilnani [Book Review]

I finished reading Sunil Khilnani's book "The Idea of India" yesterday, although I felt there was scope for it to be renamed by prefacing the title with the word "Defending", and adding "Nehruvian" after the definite article.

In fact, I'd suggest a renaming of the chapters to succinctly capture their intent and message:

Chapter 1: Democracy A Portrait of Nehru as the Father of the Nation

Chapter 2: Temples of the Future How India's Economy Went bust

Chapter 3: Cities Erasing all of India's pasts to force Indians into Modernity

Chapter 4: Who is an Indian?  India is not Hindu.

Saturday, September 4, 2021

Tibetan Buddhism: Kindness through extraordinary courage




📔(10/n in 2021) I picked up "Fundamentals of Tibetan Buddhism" at a homestay in Harsil Valley (Uttarakhand) on my recent vacation. Found it an insightful read about the history, philosophy and practices of the people of Tibet.

The philosophy was familiar to me, as I am aware of Buddhist Sunyavada doctrines and Nagarjuna's works. The book expanded my understanding of the history of Tibetan Buddhism, and the concept of Vajrayana (which amalgamates Mahayana Suttas with Tantric practices to accelerate one's transformation into a Buddha in one lifetime).

A few takeaways among many:

1️⃣ I'm sure this has been a quiz question before: How was the institution of the Dalai Lama created, and what does "Dalai Lama" mean? A: The youngest and currently dominant Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism gained prominence in the 1570s as the Lama Sonam Gyatso formed an alliance with the Mongol chieftain Atlan Khan. The word "Dalai" comes from the Mongol word for Ocean. And Dalai Lama means a teacher who has the depths of an ocean.

2️⃣ Another piece of trivia: Buddhism became the state religion of Mongolia under Kublai Khan. Ghenghiz Khan subjugated Tibet in the 1200s, and later the Khan's grandson Godan took Sakya Pandita Gyeltsen as his guru and adopted Buddhism. The teacher's nephew Chogyal Phagpa became Kublai Khan's guru. At this time, Buddhism became the state religion of Mongolia (53% of Mongolia's population were Buddhists as of 2010).

3️⃣ It is believed that all the three paths (1) Doctrine of emptiness, (2) Infinite Compassion, and (3) Karmic law of cause and effect (including "Dependent Origination") lead to realization of the same whole - that is Enlightenment. I personally found the interconnectedness of these routes fascinating.

4️⃣ A Buddha is said to operate in three planes of existence simultaneously: the universal (dharmakaya), the ideal (sambhogakaya) - or pure land, and the individual (nirmanakaya). Dharmakaya or Truth Body relates to the realization of emptiness in the phenomenological world. Sambhogakaya or Bliss Body relates to what I think is a (Vijnanavadin/Brahmanic) concept of a pure non-material plane of existence without defilement. Nirmanakaya or Form Body relates to the expression of purity in the phenomenal world.

5️⃣ Bodhicitta (heart of an enlightened mind) is an incredibly brave concept. It means the engagement of one's enlightened mind for the well-being of all other sentient beings. One concept I loved is the idea that everyone else in a previous janma could have been our mother or dearest friends; so when we see these "mother sentient beings" suffering, we spontaneously desire to release them from their torment.

Having read this book, I feel worse about what happened to the people of Tibet in the 1950s when the Chinese Communists invade their land "to liberate them". It takes extraordinary courage to build philosophy that is so kind.

Saturday, August 21, 2021

One Year of Kaddu


Exactly 365 days ago, Anubha and I were on a one-off walk through the society on a rainy evening when we spotted a wounded white puppy bravely tippy-tapping down the road. The moment I wrapped my fingers around his supple velvety body and picked him up, our lives forever changed.

When I look back at Kaddu's first year in the world, the words that come to mind include cute, foolish, hungry, crazy, greedy, loving and No (kindly note the capitalized 'n'). One year with a puppy has pushed our thinking and behaviour onto a different plane, but at a practical level, we have mostly learned to effectively communicate the N-word.

A friend asked me if this was a strategic move to growth-hack parenting - "Is Kaddu an experimental child, so that you can learn the ropes?" I laughed his question off at the time, but I can understand where it came from. Loving a puppy has helped me realize the potential I have to fully love a helpless toddler for whom I am everything.

"We didn't save the dog, he saved us" is a cliché I've come to accept. He saved us from continuing our lives as limited hoomans who don't know an animal's love. The dog, in my opinion, is the perfect gateway animal: they open you up to a wild new world out there.

A world beginning with dogs (Haseena, Millie, Cyrus, Olly, Zoe, Danaerys, Kaalu, Candy and Crush, Foxy, Yoda, Yoga, are all furry faces I can recognize), but extending into cats, squirrels, birds, cows, pigs and horses. Some of these animals scare Kaddu, some are his friends, and others (like the horse) leave him flummoxed. By living closely with him, I sometimes get a glimpse of what goes on inside his cute, soft, furry head: I perceive those noisy red cars, giant green buses, sly cats who climb high branches, big black bullies with sharp teeth, and smelly pee and poo of various friends and animals.

Kaddu has also helped me explore the society in a way a way I'd never imagined. In the first few months of taking baby Kaddu for walks, I walked through more lanes, bushes, parks and buildings than I had in the two years prior. In certain ways, he has made us care a little more for the society too. Earlier, you could chop down a few trees overnight and have them cleared before morning, and I'd never have noticed their removal. But now, even if someone moved that green dustbin by the park by a few feet, I'd know something is amiss.

We have also made new friends through him. In fact, almost everyone we meet in the society now are through Kaddu (he is way more friendly than us), and we have realized that doggie-playdates act as excellent social glue. We pet-parents (not owners, how dare you) share stories of our little ones, their nakhre, strange things like to eat or drink, places we last took them to... Pet-parenting is like a crazy invite-only subterranean cult, and if I wasn't in it, I wouldn't have believed such a thing exists.

So we've talked about how Kaddu helped us get to know other animals, our society, and other people. But most importantly, he has helped us get to know ourselves get up on time without an alarm. He's up at six, his snout hovering over my face, ready to lick, and woof "gooby morning!"

Sunday, March 21, 2021

Unprovoked Violence and an Idea of Evil

Around seven a.m. each morning, I take our puppy "Kaddu" out for a fun walk around the park. Today was different: less than ten minutes into the walk, Kaddu was brutally attacked by a stray dog. In the few seconds that it took me to shoo away the brown dog with a plastic dog-training stick, he bit Kaddu's hind leg seven or eight times and ran away.

Kaddu squealed. Blood was oozing from the puncture wounds, he limped around in circles tugging at his leash. I looked up to see a group of morning-walkers gathered at the scene. Neighbourhood dogs rushed towards us hearing Kaddu's shrill yelps. I picked him up, and rushed back home - up three flights of stairs - to get him to safety.

We took him to the hospital. The vet cleaned his wounds, gave him two shots and told us there shouldn't be long-lasting damage. The puppy is back home now, lying uneasily in his bed watching an endless video of bleating sheep on YouTube. I hope he gets better soon. More importantly, I hope this stray-dog attack hasn't violated his psychological rules enough to erode the natural trust he places in humans and dogs alike. 

While he heals, I realize that this incident has forever changed the way I view the world. My previous understanding of concepts - evil, randomness, free-will and responsibility - stand thoroughly shaken. They do not explain what I witnessed.


What I witnessed as the closest human-observer of the attack

Kaddu is a cool fellow, at least by canine-standards. He doesn't get overly agitated, he genuinely loves humans and dogs, and he very, very rarely barks. He doesn't mind other dogs eating from his bowl, lying in his bed, or even nibbling on his favourite snacks.

Today, as we strolled in the park - he was on my left, pulling at the leash attached to his body-harness - the environment felt straight out of a Camus-novel: an idyllic Sunday lying in wait for the absurd.

His nose was near the pavement as usual. He likes sniffing out berries, mud and exotic organic things. I spotted a newcomer in the park - a middle-aged brown dog across the hedges, some ten metres from where we were walking. My memory, upon which we must rely to replay the scene, distinctly tells me that the dog and I both paused to look at one-another. Kaddu was at the time unaware of his presence.

Knowing Kaddu's playfulness when it comes to other dogs - and this one didn't look hostile - I tugged on his leash. Kaddu stopped. He turned his head and the two dogs saw each other. Kaddu didn't do anything either to invite or to spurn the other dog; he simply stood. The other dog approached. He crossed the hedge and came onto the footpath.

The dog approached quickly, I sensed something was about to happen. The dog started sniffing Kaddu, who still was standing. The dog then licked Kaddu's belly twice. Then the dog bit. Kaddu was bitten again and again, he squealed. I raised my plastic training stick and struck the stray dog. As hard as I could. But the stick was clearly not a weapon. More bites, more high pitched shrieks. The silent park became a theatre of suffering. I struck the dog again, and for some reason, the dog relented and ran away.

Other neighborhood dogs charged into the scene, and growled and barked at the newcomer. I don't know what happened to the dog at this point, as I was aware only of Kaddu and his suffering. He was limping, his leg was bloody, and he was trying to get away but the leash held him back. I picked him up and went home. I've already told you what happened next.


On fate and free-will in a dog's life

There was once an age when some people thought of animals as mindless automata simply performing a set of predefined functions according to coded rules. We now know that to be untrue; the more closely you have interacted with an animal (especially cats, dogs, cows, goats, and other species high in the evolutionary ladder), the more strongly you will vouch for the animal's capability of independent thought. You may even recognize their characteristic "personality traits", although you may think of these traits in strictly anthropomorphic terms.

For example, our vet described dogs as "toddlers who never really grow up". A few paragraphs ago, I described Kaddu as a "cool fellow". These are perhaps limitations of our own framework of thinking, but we acknowledge that these animals think, reason and "feel".

When I recall the actions of Kaddu's assailant this morning, I inadvertently try to explain it with a cause or a sequence of causes. These causes may be mechanistic (i.e. physical factors and external forces may have caused the animal to attack) or intentional (i.e. the animal attacked due to its own volition). The former approach negates the animal's free-will entirely, and I don't subscribe to this approach. In this matter, however, there seems to be no logical mechanistic explanation for the attack, as there were no discernable external conditions which forced the brown dog to attack Kaddu.

Evaluating the cause of attack through an intent-driven framework, we are driven to think of the assailant's motive. Kaddu is not prey (the dog couldn't have killed and eaten Kaddu), or a predator that threatened the dog's survival. The attack seems to lack fear-motive. The dog was also not in its territory and therefore was not safeguarding its own space. What's even more strange: the dog approached Kaddu quietly, almost casually. It was as if the dog did not approach with an intent to maul Kaddu, but decided to bite after licking Kaddu twice.

Kaddu did not retaliate; he was too shocked and too much in pain. But the dog continued to bite repeatedly. It doesn't appear that the attack happened with the intent of establishing dominance. So why did it happen?

Having lived with a pet, I think of dogs as mostly rational decision-makers. They have basic needs which they fulfil based on a priority order: eat, drink water, rest, play, explore, have sex, etc. The stray dog that approached Kaddu seems to have operated outside this framework. This act seems to have had no practical goal (for the other dog). The two or three rational options that lay in front of the dog as it approached Kaddu shouldn't have included bite.

A karmic explanation of the attack, however, exists - as karma can "explain" the absurd. It can be thought that the attack was perhaps inevitable. The event may have happened due to causes that we can never comprehend, and to fulfil a teleology that exists outside our limited imagination and reasoning.

The whole-world thus operates as a single "thing", and individual actors' actions sometimes make no sense when read alone, and separate from other things. And reason operates on the whole, and therefore on any part of the whole - including the brown biting stray.


The attack as an Act of Evil

Portuguese philosopher Baruch Spinoza believed in the unity of all substances and termed this unity God i.e. everything operates together as a whole. According to his metaphysics, there is actually no evil in the world, as there can never be evil in the whole. He says "knowledge of evil is an incomplete knowledge". We thus perceive evil only because we are unable to see the big picture.

Applying such a framework makes more sense when we apply it to a world where individual actors are in a state of war with one-another. Where the fall of one would bring the rise of another: a zero-sum game. Here, by definition zero-sum, there is no net accrual of good and bad, for what is good for one is bad for the other.

This used to be a framework I more or less believed until this morning. But now, the apparently random attack on Kaddu questions the premise of zero-sum or any kind of summation at all. What kind of additional information could here lead to complete knowledge?

There is an ancient doctrine, at least for humans, that once one knows what is good, they may proceed to do it. Knowing good conduct (what is commonly known as morality) is a precursor to performing good deeds. Some philosophers go to the extreme of saying that evil only occurs due to intellectual error, due to some kind of miscalculation inside our rational minds.

Did the brown dog not know that it was bad to bite another puppy? Did the dog not realize that Kaddu would be caused immense pain due to the bite? The dog knew all of this, and yet proceeded to maul Kaddu. I would venture to say that the act was guided by the principle of inflicting maximum pain on another.

Its intent was purely malevolent. In fact, as Kaddu shieked and howled, the dog's biting became more violent. The desire to inflict pain on another was the main motivator for this action.

I now believe that free will allows one to inflict pain and suffering even when (relatively) unprovoked. And such an exercise of free-will must be construed as an act of evil, whether or not it serves to fulfill some unknowable teleological end (as in the doctrine of karma).

Until this morning, I too, like Spinoza, believed that true acts of evil do not exist (and may be explained away rationally). Now, I wish I still believed in such a soothing doctrine, but it is too fantastic to be true.


Nobility and the State of Nature

Another concept which refined itself further after the events of this morning pertains to the (exaggerated) "state of nature". This refers to the state the world found itself in before they appointed rulers, governments or kings. It refers to a world wherein there existed no higher power to resolve disputes between individual actors, a world where people's actions were guided by some unwritten principles or "laws".

Eighteenth century thinker Rousseau propagated the idea of a "Noble Savage" as one who is uncorrupted by civilization, and thereby symbolizes humanity's intrinsic goodness. Perhaps I am still affected by the recentness of our ordeal, but I draw several parallels between the drives and motivations of a dog and those of man.

These stray dogs still exist in a state of nature, uncorrupted by civilization. At the risk of anthropomorphizing animals once again and drawing analogies, I must state that I have never more strongly rejected the idea of the noble savage than today. There have always been animals and humans who have never known what it is to be "noble", or have recognized the concept of nobility and rejected it nevertheless.

In general, perhaps, most people and animals live by a set of rules and principles. The majority uphold a set of rules, creating an illusion of the intrinsic goodness of all. But history shows multiple prominent examples of immoral and evil characters rising to power by flouting these "rules" (their ability to flout rules often explains their ability to succeed). The concept would become much clearer if we studied the social interactions between dogs on the street.


Our Responsibility towards Animals

So we have given up several individual freedoms and subjected ourselves to government by law in order to experience a higher quality of life. Dogs have, over the past fifteen thousand years, given up certain freedoms as a species and allowed humans to transform them from fearsome wolves into cute four-legged pets.

Their domestication perhaps aided in their safety and survival. They've got food and protection, and they've allowed their humans to govern them and make decisions on their behalf.

They depend on their parents and caregivers to decide for them, for these persons are in a much higher position of power. And human decisions have massive ramifications in the life of the pet: where they live, how they live, what they eat, when they sleep, what tricks they learn, even whether they are allowed to procreate.

In this light, I must remind you again about how the attack transpired today. Kaddu was walking along curiously, on the footpath with his eyes fixed on the ground a few inches ahead of him. I pulled on the leash and stopped him, when I spotted the brown dog. When the brown dog started approaching him, I did not pull Kaddu away or shoo away the dog preemptively.

I lowered my guard, and allowed Kaddu to come into harm's way. I foolishly trusted a newcomer who had evil intentions, and Kaddu got hurt because of my decision. He was unable to truly exercise his own free-will as he was on leash (although it can be argued that if I was not present, Kaddu's wounds would be far more grave or that he would have been attacked nevertheless, or that that no one would have been able to take him to the vet).

We are responsible for the pets and other animals (birds, cows, squirrels and all) who live in close proximity to us. We must think of their well-being as our moral responsibility - our own compass of goodness must direct us towards this - as we have the power to influence their lives.

I hope Kaddu gets better soon. Can't wait to teach him how to roll over!

Wednesday, December 30, 2020

Five Lessons from a Puppy in 2020

If I'm among your top hundred friends, or someone you've seen on social media over the past few months, you'd have heard of मिस्टर कद्दू (Mister Kaddu). One might advise you against taking an Instagram profile for the reality that is someone's life, but in this unique case, I assure you it is quite the truth, and the puppy does, in fact, occupy such a mammoth share of my mind.



As our year, which has been defined by this squealing, pooping, ever-hungry creature, comes to an close, I realize there's much I've learnt from this six-month old puppy. This is an attempt to document my end-of-year learnings.

Like most Indian kids who grew up in the '90s, I too had little understanding of pets. I had a few rich friends who were "pet owners", and I imagined a dog's primary purpose was to guard and protect the owner's home. I was familiar with the muscular Alsatian, the tiny (but pointless from the perspective of guarding a home) Pomeranian, and the super-massive Great Dane (thanks to Scooby Doo). The Indian pariah dog was always within eyesight, but somehow never clearly perceived.

In December 2020, life feels different: I feel more people should adopt dogs, cats and stray animals for whom they can care (cows, goats, and sheep too, if their lifestyle permits). Perhaps, I have furthered my privilege and thereby reflect the thinking of a different social-strata. Maybe someone who resembles the 1995-me will now call me "a rich dog-owner". But the words we use have changed, have they not? We are parents now, not owners.

And I realize that parenting of pets, like in the case of parenting human babies, is serious business. The responsibility that accompanies pet-parenting, and the fact that humans can help animals live safer and healthier albeit more restrained lives makes me advocate adopting animals. And I am sold on the transformative effect these beautiful creatures have on us (their effect on children and toddlers is even more profound).

Kaddu is now 6 months old, and has been part of our family two-thirds of that time. I now cannot fathom how we used to pass the time when he was not around.

His routine is rather fixed: he eats, poops, pees, sleeps, zips around the house, snaps at our ankles, steals our chappals, climbs on the sofa if we're not looking, and when outdoors, he tries to play with every human or dog within eyesight. The stark simplicity of everything he does has helped me understand several human motivations and desires that we suppress or fail to voice due to social pressures, moral considerations, or our regard for propriety.



Here are my five biggest takeaways from my interactions with Mr. Kaddu.

1. Without courage, we would live like vegetables:

The presence of kind humans who nursed Kaddu when he was injured in his early days led him to trust humans. It is likely his kind mother constantly protected him from big bad dogs when he was little, because he tries to play with all four-pawed animals even today. He is unafraid.

What began as fearlessness - not knowing the concept of fear - is through experience, slowly transforming into courage. The puppy now knows fear but still forges ahead with caution.

In a world crisscrossed with boundaries, marked by the pee of other dogs, living without courage means living like a vegetable: cooped up indoors, constantly in fear, curious about the world but unable to do a thing about it.

2. Loyalty is more than just a word:

Loyalty and trust seem to carry different meanings in the world of humans and in the world of dogs. If the latter is truth, then the former is a pale, poorly-defined shadow of this truth.

In the beginning of 2020, trust was just a word. Now, it has meaning.

Being on the receiving end of pure trust pushes you to be more responsible, to hold your own word as sacred because someone else now believes it.

3. Routines are easy to enforce when motivated by a sense of purpose 

We all made lockdown resolutions: I will read more, get up early, practise Yoga, go cycling, eat healthy, learn to cook, connect more meaningfully with friends and family... But there's a huge difference between a wish and a plan.

A plan helps you develop a routine, a wish leaves you feeling unaccomplished after a few days. A wish may transform into a plan by infusing it with purpose. Answering the why makes the how, where and when easier.

Why should I get up early? Why should I practise Yoga everyday? Why must I watch less Netflix and read more books?

I never imagined I'd consistently get up at 6.30 am, even on winter mornings, that too without having to set an alarm. Turns out that my purpose would be external: if I don't get up, the puppy will make life hell. He wants his breakfast, he needs to go for his morning walk, and he needs to poop.

My morning routine is now rock-solid. It is filled with vitality and purpose. Thank you, 2020.

4. Simple joys are at least as important as long-term goals

Our floor is now strewn with toys, puppy snacks, and shreds of what used to be an Amazon carton. In other words, our floor is strewn with joy.

The past few years, I have actively discounted the present for the future. In a rationalistic extreme, I was "long" on life-progress, with life-progress defined within a limited capitalistic scope: economics, career-progress, influence, etc. There was no place for joy, no space for the here and now.

Now, the puppy has pawed at the long-term lenses, and pulled them off our eyes. There's suddenly more time for family (I'm finally taking a trip back to Chennai in January '21), for friends - who end up starting conversations with cute-puppy emojis, and for myself - I've embarked upon a journey of studying philosophy and sociology in 2020.

5. Awareness is key to survival and growth

In the outdoors, you're always aware or your life-expectancy plummets. You're constantly evaluating when to run, when to hide, how to attack, how to protect yourself from the big bad bully...

Curiosity is essential, and its hardwired into an animal's DNA. Thanks to Mr. Kaddu, I finally know the gullies and short-cuts that lead to the park behind our home. I am aware of the branches, leaves and twigs within a dog's reach. I'm learning which dogs and humans are friendly, and who cannot be trusted. Short of learning which poop belongs to which dog, I feel more connected to the earth.

This lesson has massive ramifications outside the dog-walking world though. It teaches you to stay updated and more connected with the world, every step along the way. To be less aware is to fall behind and perish. 

Goodbye, 2020

It has been a crazy year, one that will stick in our collective memories for long. Mr. Kaddu has infused our work-from-home schedules with some much needed goofiness.

Here's a picture that will make you smile. Until later, bye.


Friday, November 13, 2020

A Deepavali Without Crackers

14th November 2001: As the first rays of the sun cut through the long shadows of the trees outside our apartment, my brother shook me awake. "It's Deepavali!"

We jumped out of bed, rushed to the hall, where the elders were already drinking their morning tea, listening to Venkateshwara Suprabhatam. Ammamma applied a few drops of sesame oil on our foreheads. A squabble ensued: who would be the first to take a morning bath? Whoever won would gain a definitive head-start: they would get their new clothes first, get to have the first bites of the sweets, and most importantly, they would gain access to that white plastic bag half-full with crackers.

I don't remember who won, but I do remember rushing to the pooja room, completing my morning prayers and putting on a crisply ironed white T-Shirt with kumkum on the insides of the collar. I recall quickly munching on some murukku and ladoos after the neivedhyam, before rushing downstairs to be the first kids on the block to get the fireworks going.

I disliked the loud atom bombs, but liked the bijlis, flowerpots, and chakras. The entire family soon joined us downstairs, like they did every year, as we lit a candle behind a pillar in the parking lot (which served as an undying flame where we would light our sparklers, matches and agarbathis which were used to light the crackers). Soon the whole building gathered, and before you knew it, it was time for lunch!

We spent the rest of the day meeting relatives and neighbours, sharing sweets and good wishes, doing a lot of phone calls, while the TV went on in the background. In the evening, the sky lit up and when we looked east towards the ocean, we saw - above the lighthouse - myriad colours raining upon the city.

Deepavali has always been the most wonderful day of the year!

Diwali diyas


Fast forward 19 years: 14th November 2020

This is a strange Deepavali. It is also a time to look back and be grateful for having made it this far, not just a time to look forward towards the prosperous days which are to come.

But as always, it is about being thankful for the love and care we receive. It about being with the family under one roof and spending time together. It is about lighting a diya for all those beloved souls who have left us.

It is also a time when Deepavali has been made more materialistic than it has ever been before. It is a time when we wear a kurta long enough to click a few photos that will look good on Instagram. Diwali is now about buying expensive sweets, not making them with family at home (our new lifestyles don't prioritize such activities). Diwali is now about using the promo code FESTIVE40. It is about the newest Snapchat filter, a few intelligent Muhurat Trades on the Bombay Stock Exchange, and a virtuous post about not bursting crackers.

I am now in Delhi where the AQI has been 600+ on many occasions in the past week. We now have two air purifiers at home, and they run 24x7. Breathing this level of particulate matter in the air makes it equivalent to smoking about 30 cigarettes each day. The air in a wise man's words is "filthy".

While the root cause of the problem is the large-scale burning of crops in Punjab and Haryana, Mr. Kejriwal has taken an easier route. He has banned the sale of fire-crackers in Delhi, in a feeble attempt to arrest the deterioration of the capital's air quality. This has obviously enraged several factions of the society. #हम_तो_पटाखे_फोड़ेंगे (We will burst crackers) is trending on Twitter.

While I have personally not burst crackers over the past 4-5 years (with the exception of a box of sparklers that I ritualistically share with neighbours and friends on Deepavali-evening), I find it disturbing that such a restrictive-order has been passed in what, otherwise, is a free market. In that light, I empathize with the popular uproar against such government interference.


Understanding Risk


The most common argument against firecrackers is that they can cause a sudden spike of pollution in the immediate vicinity of the firecrackers for a short period of time. 
Each cracker is a point-source of pollution which can raise the particulate matter level in your immediate vicinity a thousand times for a few minutes.

This can make the air more harmful to breathe especially for the people in the immediate proximity of cracker bursting (including those who are lighting the wick), and therefore firecrackers need regulation. In a way, this is similar to protecting people from the harms of eating fast-food. While we understand that obesity is a risk, we don’t ban restaurants that serve burgers.

Risk is always assessed as a trade-off. There are gains and losses, and one can draw a line where the losses outweigh the gains and vice-versa. Vehicles on the road cause millions of roadside fatalities each year, but we do not ban transportation or driving. Instead, we set speed limits and mandate that passengers wear seat-belts.

When a government bans or censors any action or speech (or thought), it should be a result of a thorough assessment of risk and understanding all the preventive and mitigative options at hand. The last-minute firecracker-ban in our case is simply a result of lazy policy-making where officials simply haven’t done their homework.

There are always alternative options: (a) to regulate the types of firecrackers, and promote only the bursting of “green crackers”, (b) to control the number and size of firecrackers allowed to be purchased from stores, (c) to centrally create Diwali experiences, where people of a locality can gather and observe the festivities together (like on the fourth of July in the US), or (d) regulate the time and place where fire-crackers are allowed to be burst in a city.

It is also important for policy “experts” to understand the people, just as it is for people to understand the experts. And I will elaborate on this in the coming sections.

Traditions without Meaning

We are an ancient civilization with a certain thread of continuity that takes us back at least five thousand years. Traditional Hindus believe in the epistemic authority of the Vedas, accept the existence of Paramātmā, and may pray to several traditional Hindu gods and goddesses. For them, Deepavali is a celebration of Shri Rāma returning to Ayodhya, or of Shri Krishna defeating the demon Narakāsura.

Many modern Hindus who celebrate Deepavali don't fully know (nor do they think it necessary to know) the itihasa that provides us with the reason to celebrate this day. But for them too, it is an important festival to meet and get together with their friends and relatives, to share a few sweets, snacks and laughs.

Even when one dissociates the festival from its scriptural roots (if this is indeed possible), it is clear that the societal importance of Deepavali in modern India cannot be overstated. The rituals associated with the festival are grounded in tradition, passed on from generation to generation, changing albeit gradually over the ages.

If one were to extract the essence of the festival, by removing the layers of historical and cultural meaning it is shrouded in, it is this: Light (of Dharma). Or, as we learnt in our Social Studies text books - "Diwali is the festival of lights".

In an endeavour to foster communal brotherhood, and in the proud tradition of secular policymaking around the world (this is not limited to just India), the euphemism "Festival of Lights" has been found the only acceptable and politically-correct one. It allows for feeble clichés like "good wins over evil", and distances the celebration from its own roots. Lord Rāma himself is vilified, and it is considered immoral in certain circles to celebrate his victory over Rāvana (which is technically the same as celebrating the victory of good over evil).

The same people who decry Shri Rāma may well be found sipping a glass of wine in their latest Fab India kurtis in a South Delhi Diwali party. The festival is therefore ripped out from its religious origins, leaving only a flimsy veneer of traditional Indianness that is allowed to rear its uncomfortable head once or twice a year.

Faith Is The New Shame

In Tier I India, the temple is almost a place of shame. This is true, not only in India, but in most developed economies across the world: to believe is to be backward. Atheists, emboldened by a half-knowledge of Science, are the new alphas.

It is a well-known fact that as a society prospers, its dependence on religion (and dogma) decreases. However, a practicing Hindu in modern India is often made to feel backward, ignorant, and ashamed, often in ways that Christians or Muslims are never made to feel in countries where they are a majority.

History tells us that several Muslim invaders who failed to successfully convert or assimilate with the indigenous people of India went to great lengths to subvert Hindu faith. Of course, not all Mughal emperors were averse to Hindu festivals, but Aurangzeb in particular focused singularly on banning the celebration of Deepavali in 1665.

Our British history which exerts a more powerful influence on modern India than the Mughal-period further restricted the development of our indigenous schools of thought. Missionaries in particular made extraordinary efforts to fuse and adapt Christian faith to Indian ways, making our next generations more in their own mold. Once they owned the way of our thought, they could after all rule (exploit) us better.

These portions of medieval and modern history, coupled with the current cultural dominance of the Western world, exert an almighty influence on the modern Tier I Indian. While the atheist lens has become more popular, it is often viewed (by those who possess these lenses) as the only "correct" lens. Unfortunately, when one is unable to see all points of view, they are usually rushed into thinking that they must be right.

Many people in the position to influence policy and law are limited by this lens. Having been educated to believe that their own particular skeptical, secular perspectives are in the right, they fail to understand the people who their policies affect.

Historically, bursting crackers together in a community is an opportunity to interact, share and connect. I remember this one Deepavali, in 2010, which I spent away from home at a friend’s place in Dehradun. His father had a huge bag of firecrackers, and all the children in the street took turns to burst them. Several neighbours gathered outside the house, and it was a beautiful way to connect with relatives and friends who we don’t see in our daily lives.

Now with a cracker-ban, such spontaneous gatherings shall sadly not happen.

“Wish you a Clean, Noiseless, Safe Diwali”

Hundreds of popular Whatsapp forwards flow into our phones on Deepavali, and many of them contain words such as “safe”, “noiseless”, and “clean”.

Swiss philosopher and linguist, Ferdinand de Saussure put forward a theory which differentiates between the denotation and connotation of a statement. Denotation is the strict dictionary meaning of a word; Connotation is the emotional and imaginative association surrounding a word.

For example, the word “cow” denotes a four-legged bovine, typically with two horns that we are all familiar with. But the connotation of the word “cow” may be different for different people. It may conjure up a mental image of the sacred cow or gau mātā, the divine cow which nourishes our family with her milk; for someone else, “cow” may make them think of a barbecue and its fresh red meat.

In the same way, while the statement “Wish you a clean, noiseless, safe Diwali” denotes something perfectly alright, it is alarming that the wish has very little to do with the spirit of Deepavali and the victory of light (dharma), and everything to do with telling someone else how they should celebrate on that day.

Why “safe”? Was Deepavali unsafe before you wished me thus? And why “noiseless”? Most people not only take the noise of firecrackers on Deepavali in their stride, but they generally enjoy firecrackers.

I often hear someone wishing, "I want clean, noiseless festivals, and I prefer chocolates over Indian ghee-based sweets as they are healthier." They could well cite the exact decibel-level above which we feel uncomfortable, or the number of calories in a besan laddoo vis-à-vis a cube of dark chocolate. Many people who belong to this camp enjoy drinking alcohol on social occasions. But doesn’t alcohol impair our judgement and our physical health? In response to this, people say “I drink in moderation. I know when to stop.”

Such a double-truth is thus maintained by most of us: one nuanced solution for things we truly care about, and another crude zero-or-one kind of solution for things we do not like.

The scientific inquisition that has led to the cracker ban is not true to the scientific spirit. It is ideological in itself.

Why Can't You Plant a Tree for Diwali instead of Bursting Crackers?

A prominent "personality" on social media recently asked this inept question. Of course, it can be countered with a set of equally ridiculous questions such as "Why don't you cut a cake on Eid instead of a goat?" or "Why can't you plant a coniferous tree, instead of cutting one down for Christmas?". But such questions serve no point, as rituals are built over ages, passed on from generation to generation until they gain acceptance from the community.

It is more useful to understand the motivation of the person asking such a question. Across religious groups, it is more common for a supposed insider to ask these questions. This angers the community even more, and in the age of social media, anger empowers the instigator.

The reason for such behaviour is usually one of these two reasons: firstly, in an atheistic world guided only by science, where there is no ideological right or wrong, it is considered beneficial to question everything. Questioning itself is the ultimate good, and answers are not as important. Therefore, it is easy to dispassionately question something that carries huge emotional meaning for another and consider oneself smart. Secondly, building of a new cult always requires distancing oneself from an older one, and pulling away sections of followers. Therefore, questioning one's own roots and virtue-signaling to people who belong to a similar mindset helps one foster one's own identify. In such situations, it is profitable to step on other people's toes.

So, Should you Burst Crackers on Deepavali?

Ideally, the government should regulate what types of crackers may or may not be used. For example, in some states, "green crackers" have been allowed. When effective regulation happens, industry realigns itself to ensure effective supply-demand matching under the new rules.

In terms of Delhi's air quality, a single day of cracker-bursting would have had negligible impact on the AQI which has been in the 600-800 level over the past week. What is required is a sustained year-round effort to improve Delhi's air, water and environment. Kejriwal's move is nothing more than lip-service, and has potentially done more bad than good for the people of Delhi. By banning fire-crackers at the last moment, the poorer sections involved in making these crackers and the shopkeepers and wholesalers who have stocked them are worst hit. Arvind Kejriwal's policies don't seem to favour the Aam Aadmi this time.

I myself have made some rava kesari, and will celebrate the day by going to the temple, meeting a few friends, lighting some lamps and relaxing at home with my wife and our four-month old puppy.

Happy Deepavali! दीपावली की हार्दिक शुभकामनाएं| இனிய தீபாவளி வாழ்த்துக்கள்.