A Time To Reflect

charukesi March 20th, 2006

HP Labs, based in Banaglore has announced a pen-based technology that will allow the Kannada script to be recorded and stored directly in the computer without the use of a conventional keyboard.

From the article in Business Standard,

The technology, which is also called the gesture-based keyboard (GKB), has been developed by researchers at HP Labs India in Bangalore and holds similar potential for other Indian languages derived from the Devanagari and Tamil scripts, according to HP officials.

The HP GKB technology was easy to use through its pen-based interface. In addition to the text, GKB, which could also be used as a mouse, allowed the capture of signatures, pictures and visual elements.

Gupta said the simple gesture-based data entry method could make it easier to communicate for those who neither understand English nor know how to type.

Read about it here.

My earlier post was on Microsoft’s efforts in bridging the demand-supply divide between illiterate domestic workers and potential employers. There are many many exciting initiatives happening in India right now - I am going to watch out for the ones that do work, and on a large scale…

[Cross-posted on mindspace]

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charukesi March 13th, 2006

Can someone who doesn’t even know how to read or write use a computer? Microsoft Corp. is probing that question at a research lab in India.

Microsoft seeking ways to help illiterate. That is promising.

And then this…

Working with a local advocacy group, Microsoft has developed a prototype of a system that would connect illiterate domestic workers in India with families seeking their services. The system uses pictures, video and voice commands to tell women what jobs are available, how much the jobs pay and where they are.

Read the full report.

I have mixed feelings about this one, most of them not so good. I am very excited about the possibilities that such systems could open up - bringing those with less access (illiterate or otherwise) closer to information in some way. echoupal does that now (although that is not a project aimed at the illiterate).

Here are some of my reasons for the not-so-good feelings :

Willingness to learn

The fantastic hole-in-the-wall experiment has shown that it is indeed possible for someone who does not know how to read or write to use a computer. But they in this experiment are children, they are naturally curious about the world around them, they are willing to experiment and to make fools of themselves in the process.

Human interaction v/s machine gobbledygook

But why domestic workers? In a country like India, the word-of-mouth system works best - I need a maid, I tell the watchman in my building, he tells others and the next morning three women are at the door-step. I do not have a fixed idea about how much I will pay for the job, not a series of tasks that I can put up on a computer.

Is there a need?

And in most places, there is a decent, well-balanced demand-supply system in place, unlike perhaps the larger employment market. Given that, I do not understand why either a potential employer or employee will need to or want to use such a system.

What is the benefit?

echoupal benefits the farmer by eliminating the middleman, the farmer has updated knowledge about prices and market trends and makes beter money for his produce. In case of domestic workers, there are no middlepeople(?)

Where does the twain meet?

The researchers say they are now trying to figure out how to implement the system, since most women who do domestic work don’t own computers. One option is to put up a kiosk in a community center, Toyama said. Er, most women, meaning some of them do? And what about those wishing to employ them - do they all own computers? If not, do they also go to a kiosk? How does communication work if both sender-receiver are not on a shared platform - any kind of platform?

I think the concept is interesting and powerful, but fraught with all the questions and that leapfroggers tend to evoke in those watching. As a confimed leapfrogger-cheerer, I’d be very happy to read somewhere the answers to these questions. In the meanwhile, here is a blasphemous suggestion - can time at Microsoft research be perhaps put to better use?

• Technology , - ICTs4 development
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charukesi March 6th, 2006

Blank Noise has the blog-a-thon 2006 going, inviting stories and thoughts from people about the problem of street harassment. People, because men need to speak out on this as much as women do.

I was waiting to attend the Blank Noise meet in Bombay before I posted on this. Some thoughts from there. The idea behind Blank Noise is to raise awareness among people that we need to Say NO to street harrassment, it is not okay to harass or be harassed, even in the name of fun. It is not okay to encroach upon a woman’s personal space, in the name of checking her out or appreciating beauty. No, it is not okay when the woman feels uncomfortable by this.

So what is harassment? And what is not?

So where do we draw the line and say this is okay and this is not? Start with looking at the innocuous name given to such harassment in India - eve teasing. Uh? teasing? The unemployed Rmeo whistles at the girl, sings lewd songs at her, and in the next scene fades out with the girl and the guy singing lewd songs tgether, declaring their undying love for each other? Nope, Eve and Romeo… doesn’t work that way.

One of the things Blank Noise wants to do first is to understand exactly what constitutes harassment. Please leave your thoughts on this here and spread the word around. Eve teasing to me means *blank*

Activism is such a dirty word?

It is alright to write about it but getting down to the streets where the harassment actually takes place is not so easy for everyone. You do not have to stand in the streets and ask people questions and hand out pamphlets. be your own activist - when you see a woman get harassed, take some action. Show your support in some way. And if you want to be involved in blank noise, please get in touch with Jasmeen right away.

But what can I do about it?

I agree often there isn’t much you can do about it - in a crowded space, it is sometimes difficult to even tell who pinched or groped. But when you do know, then make a scene. Ask him ‘why are you staring a me’? I have tried this and it works. It sends the “teaser” into a tizzy. Shout if in a public place and get the attention of others.

And if you feel physically feel violated in any way, first get this clear - you are not responsible for it. It is not about the way you smile or the clothes you are wearing - it is about the fact that you are a woman and you happen to be there. I don’t know if this is supposed to make one feel better or worse, it is not about you - it could have been any woman there and then.

All that I have written, I have faced, and thought about.

And the stories….

As Annie said, karoge yaad toh har baat yaad aayegi. It just needs one person to start talking about it and then suddenly every woman has her own story to share.

After all these years, I still get disturbed when I think about this - and I do often. Twelve years old and in a crowded temple on a festival way. And a man squeezed my breasts from behind. hard, so hard that I shouted out. But I had nothing to say when my aunt asked me what had ahppened. And I saw the man. I saw him again and again. I saw the leer on his face. And I saw him come towards me a second time, and it happened a second time. And I saw him walk away. And I came home and cried unconsolably.

I am shaking with anger as I write this. What breasts does a twelve year old have, you bastard? I have noticed that I still instinctively cover my chest if I sense a stranger come too close to me, and if I am not wearing a dupatta. And I have not mentioned this to anyone in my life till now.

Walking to class at 16. Passing through a house where four teengae boys sang dirty songs every single day. Till I snapped one day. that night, they came to my house drunk and made a scene infrnt of the gate. Neighbors watching in avid curiosity, and supportive parents who threatened to cal the police. The next morning, my dad and I went to the house; the boy’s father as a well known physiotherapist, and compalined about him. The boy’s mother advised my dad to keep his girl under control. They did not sing from the next day, but I didn’t feel good about that “victory”…

And then driving classes at 19. And the scent of the male instructor as he leaned over my neck teaching me to reverse the car. That nauseous smell of coconut oil, mixed with sweat and what, lust? I snapped at him after three days and demanded a woman instructor. And he failed me in my preliminary driving test before going to the RTO. I don’t drive to this day.

Related : my earlier post on Being a female body

Technorati tag: Blogathon 2006

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charukesi February 10th, 2006

A few things that have been disturbing me over the last week or so… random, casual lines heard or read, images that make me shudder every time I think of them, attitudes that make me despair… they pop up at inconvenient times, little imps that dance in my mind, those morsels I have not been able to swallow or throw out…

Just finished reading Dr. Abraham Vergehese’s book My Own Country (picked this up based on a faint memory of something I had read on Uma’s blog ages ago) and the after-taste refuses to go away. The book is a doctor’s account of facing and fighting with AIDS deep inside the bible belt of the USA. I found it a humane and honest narrative of the early years of AIDS from a doctor who is involved, compassionate and finally finds that he is living with the disease too, not in exactly the way his patients are but the disease takes over all his waking and sleeping moments…

Here is a line that got me thinking… Gay may have been what he did but it wasn’t who he was… ( a patient’s sister)… What a person does only a part of what he really is - how many of us are able to separate the two this way?

I keep reading reports about misconceptions about the virus and the disease, stigma and basic ignorance… More than twenty years after the disease first reared its head, the stigma remains… Like one of Verghese’s patients who saw himself (and his wife) as innocent victims who had been infected through a blood transfusion. And by extension, other victims not so innocent…? got what they deserved…

***
From a link ammani forwarded me a long time ago…
That to me is like is stealing someone’s baby and claiming adoption. Nothing wrong with it at all, but do not say it is your baby — that’s insulting the kid and hiding your inability to produce one yourself .

And then says the author, (The above para has been altered to avoid more comments from my ‘holier-than-Thou’ readers)

And that is the altered version. Read the original version…

‘That to me is like is adopting a kid. Nothing wrong with it at all, but do not say it is your baby — that’s insulting the kid and hiding your inability to produce one yourself.’

Oh, the inability to produce a child… here we go again… do adopt a child, nothing wrong with it (thanks) but don’t call it your own… yeah, right.

And this is not in any treatise on adoption or child bearing. These are lines thrown casually and callously into a review of the movie Zinda by journalist Sudhish Kamath who writes for the Hindu. Like there is not enough prejudice in the country already against adoption…

I know this was a long time ago but this post on caesarean deliveries on Sujatha’s blog and some of the comments on the post put me in mind of this again… (no specific reference to any one of the comments here)

***
And finally, the nightmare of development agencies, well-meaning and clueless donors… There, I have cleaned out my cupboard and conscience at the same time…

[through gizmodo]

I am thinking about the glut of old clothes donated during the tsunami relief efforts and about the 100 dollar laptop (much as Abi and I agree to disagree on our respective faith in leapfrogging development)…

• Society & Development , - Public health
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charukesi February 2nd, 2006

Uma at Indianwriting has this posted an email she received from someone in the US… I found much in the mail objectionable but this sentence particularly got me thinking - The number of overage unmarried Indian girls in the US is quite large. And there is nothing the parents can do about it, which causes them considerable anguish.

And then this brilliant sentence from Shoefiend on her fact or fiction - Approaching their late 20s, my cousins were still unmarried – earning their mother the collective sympathy of friends, relatives and even the occasional stranger. Like products close to their expiry date, they were nearing the end of their shelf life and people were wary of taking them home.

When exactly does a girl / woman reach that expiry date…? What is this overage that makes parents wring their hands in despair and get ready to sell their product, I mean daughter, off at a bargain deal?

Is it when she starts losing her youth? And when is that…?

Is it when she is touching terrible thirty? And she flinches every time she sees herself in the matrimonial ad described as a “girl”…?

Is it when the woman decides that she has had enough and refuses to submit to any more bride-viewing and bargaining?

Or is it when she is nearing menopause and it is clear that even if she marries then, she will not be able to serve her raison d’être, viz. child-bearing?

And when do men become overage? Do they have an expiry date too? Do mothers of unmarried overage men attract the same kind of sympathy?

Why is it that the tick-tocks and the chimes of the woman’s biological clock alone are so loud and clear that they reach the ears of friends and strangers alike? I wonder…

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charukesi January 27th, 2006

The gift of a daughter - is not enough - it is the gifts that the daughter carries to her husband’s home that matter… As I finish reading Subhadra Butalia’s book The gift of a daughter - ‘encounters with the victims of dowry’, my thoughts are with the countless married women who go through this harrassment every day (living with it and maybe even dying of it some day), unmarried girls who commit suicide because they do not wish to be a burden on their parents, and parents themselves who would rather kill their newborn daghters than bring them up and then face a situation where they are unable to provide adequately for their marriages.

The gift of a daughter is on the one hand a powerful moving narrative, an attempt by the author to reflect on and document her efforts in fighting the dowry evil. It traces the first awakening - from dowry was never an important issue in my life - in the author towards the horror of dowry and the subsequent path she takes to set up Karmika; the indifference that existed everywhere, the hurdles at every step, the hope that sprang up every time a woman stood up for herself and against the system, the despair that tended to be overwhelming at times when she sensed how deep-rooted the practice was….

And on the other, it is the story of many young women - women from different places and different backgrounds, but with remarkably similar stories. Every woman’s story goes somewhat like this - married off by her parents, sometimes with great hopes and dreams about her future, sometimes against her will and better judgment. Living with physical and mental harrassment at the hands of those she had hoped would protect her and love her. And finally dying in a bizarre accident involving only herself and a stove…

***
It is the story with the women as the main characters, only they have no lines.

And then there are the other performers, all of them mute too - her own parents watching in silence as their daughter goes through hell…

She stayed at her parents’ home for six months; then there was a council of the elders of the family and it was decided that she must ‘be returned‘. The family apologized to Hardeep’s husband and his parents for the meagre dowry she had brought, they added more and sent her back. [emphasis mine]

What will society say if we take her back into our home? Who will marry her sisters if it becomes known that the elder daughter is separated from her husband?

Adjust. That terrible word. It is a horrifying truth that every time a harrassed girl comes back to her parents and complains about the ill-teratment meted out to her, the parents advise her to go back and adjust.

Above all, who has the time and energy to fight battles for the dead; the others in the family are alive and it is essential to take care of living and forget the dead…

What was important for him now was his family, his business, his widowed mother. If he kept chasing the case, all this would fall by the wayside, so he had decided that since Hareep was dead anyway he would focus on the living. [Hardeep’s brother]

And even before this, parents and families who believe that it is the right of the groom’s side to demand dowry and their duty to provide one.

The brothers said, “after all she is our sister. Why should we not give everything we can? If they ask, let them; we’re happy to give”

“Do you mean we should send our daughters to their matrimonial homes like beggars?”

And her in-laws watching in silence as their daughter-in-law goes in up flames ignited by them in the first place…

Supported ably by the legal system that is as mute as the others in this drama…

In 1981, a judge actually delivered a statement in a dowry case (Inder Sain vs the state) in which he said (according to the Times of India) that anything given after marriage did not count as dowry.

And indifferent and insensitive.

All too often the judicial process fails them, repeated adjournments dampen their faith and, as time passes and the initial shock of grief lessens, the daily routine of life reasserts itself and it begins to seem less and less important to pursue the case.

And finally, the biggest culprit in this all - “society” - voyeuristic at times when the drama is unfolding in front of their eyes, in their neighborhood, within their own family and indifferent when it comes to reacting and doing something, even saying something. Suddenly then, it is an internal family issue and maintaining friendly and neighbourly relations is paramount, even with murderers…

Why do you bother? It is a matter between the husband and the wife. Perhaps she did something to offend him. [So he set her on fire]

***
All the stories that Butalia has documented here are from decades ago, the 1970s and 80s when the self-bursting kerosene stove was suddenly discovered, and some even older. Sadly, these stories could all be from now and here, from the new century, from this ’shining’ country, this booming economy…

Sadly, nothing has changed…

***
Update : Is the traditional match-making really the best way? Read Uma’s latest post where she lso links to an earlier piece on a rubbishy practice like dowry needs to go.

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charukesi January 24th, 2006

The sun was just beginning to set as Shubha Mudgal wrapped up her concert with a mellifluous dadra, the bright yellows of her sari perfect foil to the dark colours of the sky. We were at the IMG Janfest at St. Xavier’s college this Sunday evening. The evening began with Shubha Mudgal’s deep voice which filled the air and the senses completely. No outside sounds filtering in… No distractions, except the frequent streaks of colour as pretty young girls (from the college) walked past, dressed in their mothers’ best silk sari and jewellery, an occasional stray kite landing amidst the audience, string limply hanging by its side, and kites of the other (avian) variety soaring high above the buildings… And Shubha Mudgal’s brilliant smile that flashed across her face regularly, in evident enjoyment of the music in and around her….

As the sun set and the lights came on slowly in the open-air quadrangle “auditorium”, there was a new magic in the air… Partho Sarathy had started his performance (sarod) with Anindo Chatterji on the tabla… Waiting for Ustad Rashid Khan to perform next, my mind slowly wandered… To force-fed music classes during my school days (needless to say, unsuccessfully) and to stack upon stack of cassettes of Carnatic music everywhere in the house…

(And this is my cue to warn you to read ahead at your own risk : rambly post on classical music ahead)

***
I grew up in a house where the day began to the strains of MS’ Suprabhatam, followed by Maharajapuram Santanam or D.K. Pattammal. And Mali and Ramani on the flute late in the evening, a beautiful way to end any day… And occassionally, when my mother got her way, Pandit Ravi Shankar or Bhimsen Joshi…

Carnatic music to me has always been the more formal, rigid form of classical music, when compared to Hindustani. It was the gift of the privileged, the Tambram with his veshti and her diamond nose stud, the one lucky enough to be born into music. It reached out to the connoisseur, the knowledgable devotee and not the casual listener. It meant December kutcheris in the hallowed premises of Music Academy and Narada Gana Sabha; and the future of young new artists made or broken by a nod from the supreme music critic Subbudu

Carnatic music was about bhakti, devotion, calling out to Lord Rama, often in a language that neither the artiste nor the listener understood. (Very rarely physical love, as expressed by Andal for her imagined husband-lover Krishna). And so, it seemed to me as I sat through concerts, it was a performer singing for the self and not the audience…

As I grew up and listened to more and more Hindustani music, I was drawn towards it - a form that seemed to have lesser distance between the performer (the art itself) and the audience… Music that dealt with not just devotion of the more spiritual kind but more earthy emotions. Calling out to Lord Krishna, the lover with a searing thumri (derived from thumak, or the coquettish swaying gait of a young girl), the fast tempo of a dadra, the romantic light moods of a kajri… Why have you, my lover, been out all night?. Bhajans of Kabir and Meera living on through the centuries…

And drawing disciples from “outside”, predominantly Muslims; Ustad Aamir Khan and Bade Ghulam Ali Khan to Begum Parween Sultana and Ustad Rashid Khan down the years… Embracing more forms than the strictly traditional; even Shubha Mudgal in red in the rain singing ab ke sawan aise barse…

***
Till a decade or so ago when things changed down South… Carnatic music was no longer the bastion of the traditional and the “pure”. I would credit this largely to Balamurali Krishna (truly the “pioneer” in this respect) with his attempts at bringing Carnatic music closer to the people; for instance, his weekly program on television Swara Raga Sudha, exploring one raga every week, and playing popular songs from films based on that raga. (Although MKT or MK Thyagaraj Bhagavatar was the reigning heart-throb of my grandmother’s generation, thanks to his appearance in popular movies of the 1930s!)

And over the years, Yesudas (his name meaning ‘disciple of Jesus’), his rich deep voice combining melody with devotion, Kumaresh and Ganesh on the violin, with magic in their hands and bubblegum in their mouths, Bombay Jayashri’s spirited rendition of Bharatiyar songs in the semi classical style (in contrast to MS or DK Pattammal), the Priya sisters with their short hair and smart looks… New, young, refreshing voices - the future of Carnatic music…

Walking through the Janfest photo gallery at Xavier’s, more thoughts… Where are the new young voices in Hindustani music (except for the odd occasional one)… Musicians have been busy passing on the baton to their own children; keeping it within the family at the cost of overshadowing talented disciples who will keep their name and gharana alive… Rahul Sharma, Aman and Ayaan Ali, Durga Jasraj, Anoushka Shankar…

And finally, the extinction of that supreme experience for a music lover - the jugalbandi; two equally accomplished musicians competing with and complementing each other on stage, while the audience soaked in the music, spellbound. I remember very well this televised jugalbandi between Balamurali Krishna and Bhimsen Joshi many many years ago, each weaving his own spell, each vying for that one level higher, each with his own supporters in the audience fighting over how he had licked the other to a pulp…

***
During the last concert of the evening, Ustad Rashid Khan invoking the name of Shiva why don’t you hear me? why don’t you visit my temple?, Uma leans over and whispers, if only the fundamentalists could listen to Rashid Khan singing about Shankar Bhagwan… Yes, if only…

Related : Mumbai Girl on Krishna Nee Begane Baro and Harini on Where Parvati cannot sing for Shiva

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charukesi January 4th, 2006

Came acorss this recent report from the Pew internet and American Life project… For what claims to be a ‘wide-ranging study’, the report seems to me full of stereotypes-exist-therefore-will-reinforce statements and worse, “findings” which really say nothing new…

A wide-ranging look at the way American women and men use the internet shows that men continue to pursue many internet activities more intensively than women, and that men are still first out of the blocks in trying the latest technologies.

Among other things, we are told that women like to chat, use email, forward jokes and are are more likely to feel satisfied with the role email plays in their lives, especially when it comes to nurturing their relationships. And even in email, women tend to use it more for personal communication while men communicate with various kinds of organizations. And indicentally, men also use the internet more to search for information, are more tech-savvy and more interested in technology generally…

Woman the gossipy nurturer and man the intelligent provider - can never go wrong…

But where are the insights? Dimensions that have changed (since the last report, in the last few years, whatever), trends that are being seen, and things that can be expected in the future…?

Somehow, this report reminded me of another study I had read about on Lorenz’s Antropologi a while ago… From housewife to mousewive - Anthropological study on women and Internet (although Lorenz does wonder about exactly how anthropological the study was)

A recent anthropological study (combined with nationwide polling) by Demos shows the traditional housewife has been transformed into a ‘mousewife’ as women drive forward the increasing use of computers in the home.

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charukesi December 17th, 2005

My father in law passed away today… My operation stitches are coming out on Monday, and I am off to their place immediately after that. Till then, I can only sit here with my thoughts and prayers - for the rest of the family… See you all here when I get back, after the new year.

I want to leave you with this remarkable story - Mishap victim gifts life to 3. The 21 year old boy who had met with an accident was declared brain dead on arrival at the hospital. And his parents, in all their grief donated his organs to others, giving them the gift of life. The ToI reports that they sum up their deed thus - The lives of great men all remind us/That we can make our lives sublime/And departing leave behind/footprints on the sands of time.

Tough decisions, brave decisions…

Reminder for me and you to pledge our eyes/organs… Have only been thinking about it so far; good intentions, no action.. maybe a good way to begin the new year…?

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charukesi December 12th, 2005

Students fear AIDS could spreads through kissing, says report in todays’ ToI. While students were generally found to be knowledgeable about HIV/AIDS, the survey found they had misconceptions about transmission. A large number of believed that kissing (40%), hugging (29.7%) and sharing of clothes (25.4%) caused viral transmission. A shocking 45.1% thought that mosquito bites could cause transmission.

Here is more - Sharing of toilets and eating out with HIV-infected persons was an issue with the students with up to 25.4% saying that it could cause viral transmission.

This from a survey conducted by the Wockhardt-Harvard Medical International HIV/AIDS Education and Research Foundation (WHARF) based on interviews with 1,179 junior college boys and girls. If this is the knowledge level about transmission of AIDS among the young who are the main target group for this disease - global figures indicate that 50 percent of persons infected every year are below 25 years of age… Makes me wonder about the effectiveness of AIDS and HIV related communication campaigns that we see all the time.

Scary…

***
I tried looking for the link to this article on the ToI website but couldn’t find it - I have copied this from their epaper. However, I did find this on their home page - Urmila Matondkar at the Dubai International Film Festival. Oh, and this too - Big B watches Ek Ajnabee in hospital. Why am I not surprised? Surely, Urmila Matondkar makes for better copy than a bunch of ignorant students.

• Media Matters , - Public health
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