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Food Bill
moves ahead Admissions
on paper |
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Saving
children
The rot
within IAS
All is
not lost
Geddes'
1918 Indore report — space and abstraction
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Admissions on paper
The
coaching industry has been allowed to grow and usurp what could have been the government's contribution in the education sector - to mentor the bright and hone excellence. Government schools hire the best available teachers, get the best locations and infrastructure, yet they could not capitalise on competitive examinations for professional colleges. Instead of waking up to the need of offering special coaching in schools, an unhealthy practice of dummy admissions has been allowed to grow. School teachers escape the required hard work of updating knowledge. Students aspiring for top professional colleges take admission in senior secondary schools to appear for the plus-two examination and ensure fake attendance, while they spend time in coaching classes. As such under the new system, devised by former HRD Minister Kapil Sibal, for admission to all the Centrally funded institutes like NITs, IITs and IIITs, there will be 40 per cent weightage for performance in plus two , 30 per cent weightage in the main exam and 30 per cent in the advanced test. In case of IITs, the board results and the main test will be given 50 per cent weightage each. Though, there is a difference of opinion about the implementation of the new system, it was devised to give equal weightage to plus two that has been neglected by students aspiring for professional courses Therefore, the decision of the Education Department, Punjab, to penalise principals who allow admissions without ensuring attendance is right, though it rests on easy options. One, the department should also think responsibly towards the needs of the small-town students whose aspirations to get into a professional college are equally important. Two, they should know, if government schools deny fake attendance, private schools would oblige them. The solution should be such as could offer the students quality coaching in their school environment by inviting special faculty. Small-town students have as much right to dream and enter a professional college as do the big-town ambitious students. |
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Saving children
India
accounts for the largest number of deaths of children below five and has an unenviable record of first-day birth mortality. An estimated 3,09,000 babies do not survive a day. While India can take heart in the rapid gains in child survival in the last two decades, the country is nowhere close to achieving its Millennium Development Goals, which aim to cut the under-five mortality by two-thirds between 1990 and 2015. Haryana, having made a considerable progress in reducing the infant mortality rate from 66 in 2001 to 44 in 2011, is way behind its MDG targets. It has now identified seven districts under the National Rural Health Mission to curb infant mortality. The causes of high infant mortality in Haryana are no different from those of the country at large with which its infant mortality rate figures incidentally match. While children succumb to diseases such as pneumonia and diarrhoea, ironically both preventable, malnourishment, unhygienic environment and lack of access to basic requirements such as clean drinking water add to the high rate of child deaths. Even though immunisation is one of the most cost-effective and simple life-saving interventions, a distressingly large number of children go without it. There can be no dispute that the health indicators of India's children have to be improved. While simple cost-effective measures can make a difference, no cost should be considered too high to save children, which is possible only by improving the nutritional status and health of mothers. Early marriage of girls too has to be prevented. State governments need to look into the fact that despite a rise in institutional deliveries, infants continue to die. Clearly it's not merely a question of access to healthcare but also its quality. Children are the future of the nation and can't be allowed to die young. |
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The one thing we can never get enough of is love. And the one thing we never give enough is love. — Henry Miller |
The rot within IAS THE Indian Administrative Service (IAS) is at the apex to run the country's administration. It replaced the Indian Civil Service (ICS) which was an instrument in the hands of the British to rule over India. After Independence, there was a serious thinking whether there should be an all-India service at all. The states wanted persons from their own area to administer. But then Home Minister Sardar Patel was keen on having an all-India service to articulate the feeling of unity and maintain the diversities prevailing in the country. The service would also, Patel asserted, ensure that the Indian Constitution remained supreme in the medley of pulls by different states. Two all-India services, Indian Administrative Service and Indian Police Service (IPS), were constituted. Their members came to occupy top This arrangement worked fairly well till the early seventies when the rot started due to the Centre's maniac effort to concentrate power and the states' ambition to play politics through civil servants. This has practicably nullified good administration. The IAS has become a glorified state service. The rulers use it in the In real, the Emergency is the watershed. The then Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, suspended the Constitution and used the IAS officers to enforce illegal acts and suppress the critics. This was the time when the thin line between right and wrong, moral and immoral was erased. Only a couple of officers stood up against what was sheer dictatorship. Fear of punishment for disobedience made the service servile. It was once the steel frame but it has now turned into a seal frame. The Shah Commission, appointed to look into the excesses during the Emergency, has deplored how the bureaucracy caved in. The Commission has said: “The ethical considerations inherent in public behaviour became generally dim and in many cases beyond the mental grasp of many of the public functionaries. Desire for self-preservation as admitted by a number of public servants at various levels became the sole motivation for their official actions and behaviour.” The service has not recovered from the carrots dangled before it during the Emergency. In fact, it is going out of the way to placate the rulers. The latter, in turn, have rewarded those who did what the rulers wanted. The malaise is largely because of two reasons: one, the rulers do not respect the regulations and violate them to reap benefits for themselves and their parties; two, the IAS officers who are allotted to the states, have surrendered because of the threat of transfer or posting to an unimportant position. Therefore, it is heartening to see when IAS officers like Durga Shakti Nagpal from Uttar Pradesh and Ashok Khemka from Haryana stand up against the wrongs the rulers wished them to do. She has been suspended because of stopping illegal mining by the sand mafia. The Samajwadi Party, ruling UP and placating the Muslim electorate, has justified her suspension, saying that she had endangered the communal harmony by ordering the demolition of an outside wall One, this is not true. Two, she was within her right to demolish any unauthorised structure on the government land. In a judgment, the Supreme Court has said that a place of worship should be pulled down immediately if the government land had been encroached upon. It is a pity that the Supreme Court rejected a public interest litigation (PIL) petition challenging her suspension. The court is technically correct that it cannot interfere in matters between the government and the employees. The court had the opportunity to set right the rot. It should have realised the anger which swept through the country following action against the two officials. The support of IAS associations from some states and the trainees at Mussoorie to Durga evokes hope that the service, which has ingratiated itself with politicians, may begin to assert itself as was the case before the Emergency. The manner in which the three-member IAS officers’ committee endorsed the Haryana government casts shadow on the behaviour of the service. The nation still hopes that the bureaucracy will make up for the deficiencies which the politicians, particularly belonging to the ruling party in a state or at the Centre, have
created in the system. In many foreign countries, there is a committee for civil service supervising the suspensions, transfers and promotions of officials. A similar committee can be constituted in India as well. The task can also be entrusted to the Union Public Service Commission (UPSC), which is also the
recruiting authority. The service itself will have to do introspection if officers were to act only on the basis of self-promotion. Today when the common man does not get even what is rightfully due to him, he is disillusioned with the entire system. True, politicians will continue to keep an eye on the electorate, but the IAS cannot afford to fall prey to their designs. A public functionary must display a degree of vigilance and willingness to sacrifice. The Gandhi dynasty should draw a lesson from the example of Feroze Gandhi, son-in-law of Jawaharlal Nehru. Feroz Gandhi would take up cases of corruption in Parliament, even to the embarrassment of Nehru. He was so upright that he did not even live at the Prime Minister's house but had a separate bungalow to which he was entitled as a member of Parliament. It is another matter that Feroze Gandhi's son, Rajiv Gandhi, got the atmosphere contaminated when, as the Prime Minister he bought the Bofors guns. Corruption of the dynasty has not lessened either in tone or tenor. Robert Vadra, son-in-law of Congress president Sonia Gandhi, has created a stench. Coming back to the IAS, its name is in the mud. It must retrieve itself not only for the sake of the Durgas and Khemkas, but also for the public which is still hoping against hope that the service will not dance to the tunes of the rulers. That is how the democratic structure in the country can be made
safer.
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All is not lost I
was
once waiting for an auto-rickshaw in Banglore. Because of heavy traffic and chaos on the road due to the peak hours, no vehicle was readily available to take passengers. I was endlessly waiting and got totally enervated when a gentleman on a two-wheeler stopped by my side and enquired as to where I wanted to go. "Railway station", I said. He signalled me to sit on the rear seat to which I readily jumped. He dropped me at the railway station. I thanked the stranger and asked about his name. He said, "Noble son of a noble father" and left. Once I was travelling in Rajdhani from Mumbai to New Delhi. A co-passenger sitting by my side, when checked, was shockingly found carrying an invalid ticket of an earlier date by mistake. The conductor demanded double the charges to allow him to continue his journey . He found himself short of a thousand rupees. Being a stranger in the whole compartment, he looked worried. A Muslim gentleman got up from his seat in the adjoining cabin and paid him the money he was short of. The passenger was able to continue his journey by buying a fresh ticket. He thanked the fellow passenger and asked him about his name and address so that he could return the money. The gentleman replied: "I have come from Lahore on a holiday in India. You need not bother. If you ever happen to visit Pakistan, anytime, you may do a similar act to someone in need of money in my country". I was really overwhelmed by this noble gesture of a stranger in this country. Last year as I was riding to work on my two-wheeler, I took a turn rather fast and my handbag, kept near my feet, fell on the road. Caught in the morning rush hour on a one-way road, it took a bit of maneuvering before I could park my bike by the side of the road. My handbag now lay in the middle of the road, quite behind me with vehicles swerving all around. I sprinted back trying to figure out how to make my way through the non-stop traffic to reach it when I saw a mini truck causing a minor traffic jam. The olive green leather handbag that had my spectacles, sunglasses, a pen-drive etc was beneath the mini truck intact. To my amazement, the driver barefoot and wearing a "maala" that men in southern India wear before going on a pilgrimage, jumped out amid all the honking, reached under his vehicle and handed me my bag. He had perhaps seen me run towards the bag and had stopped his mini truck over it to prevent any other vehicle from driving over it. I took the bag gratefully but before I could mutter anything more than "Thank you" he got into his vehicle and drove off. His kind act saved my bag and its content from getting damaged and more importantly, saved me from getting run over while trying to
reach it.
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Geddes' 1918 Indore report — space and abstraction In
a time when the dwindling of solidarities becomes plainly visible in an upsurge in the number of compound walls and gated conclaves in the Indian cities, one can easily see the relationship between the changes in a city's social mood and changes in its architectural fibre. It was never so transparently self-evident before. One can begin to forget how, once upon a time, the commensurability between changes in a city's social temper, and its physical fabric, was not so much immediately palpable, as much as it was to be strenuously established and made explicit. Patrick Geddes, the acclaimed, Scottish evolutionist and urban planner, who also visited and stayed in India in the early part of the twentieth century, for instance, went to great lengths to bring some much needed visibility to the ways in which the reorganization of a people's thinking, resonated in a reorganization in the shape and form of the spaces they inhabited. Be it in his writing on such cities as Perth, Edinburgh, Dundee, Dunfermline and Aberdeen, or, for that matter, in the many town-planning survey reports he prepared in India between 1915 and 1925. Geddes painstakingly explained how the upheavals besetting everyday spaces in cities, were expressions, even if only subconsciously, of the evolution of the civic sentiments and the rationale of its inhabitants. Old palace, Indore, in 1912 And yet, however discerningly Geddes may have drawn a comparison between the evolution of spaces and the evolution of civic sentiments and rationale in his writing, what continues to remain a matter of confusion is how he, for his own part, oriented himself towards the idea of space. Did Geddes think of space principally as an outward canvas to be tinted in the hues of the inner transformations of reasoning minds, or more specifically, in the hues of what he once called the "contrasts of the moods" of people? Or, on the contrary, did the nature of the canvas itself, or more specifically, the nature of the space itself impinge, in his comprehension, upon the reasoning or the moods of people, and transform or disproportion them? Space, a reflection of mind Geddes' work in improving the slums of Edinburgh led to an invitation from Lord Pentland (then Governor of Madras) to travel to India to advice on emerging urban planning issues. In Gedde's words, "Town Planning is not mere place-planning, nor even work planning. If it is to be successful it must be folk planning. This means that its task is not to coerce people into new places against their associations, wishes, and interest, as we find bad schemes trying to do. Instead its task is to find the right places for each sort of people; place where they will really flourish."
That Geddes, to some degree, prevaricated between these two simple, but nevertheless distinct philosophical orientations towards space, is somewhat evident in his 1918 text, Town planning towards City Development: A Report To The Durbar Of Indore. In that report, which he wrote in two volumes in preparation for his own proposed improvement of Indore( now in Madhya Pradesh), at the behest of its then king, Maharaja Tukoji Holkar, Geddes observed how the map of the city served as a palimpsest for the evolution of it from a religious centre, to a place of government, and finally, to a centre of military and commercial power. These three distinct, successive phases in the development of an inner, local, civic perception of the nature of the city, found outward expression, as Geddes observed, in the gradual shift, over time, of situational emphasis within the precincts of the city -- from the area called Juni Indore, or old Indore, to Ara Bazar, located close to the old palace complex, and finally, to Fort Indore. Putting it somewhat provocatively in his report, Geddes asked " …has not our review and interpretation of this development, in its three main quarters, or rather successive towns, brought before us a succession of phases of rational and orderly extension, in which, at each period, the requirements of its own life have been adequately provided, and those of its past respected?" Evidently, the steady evolution of the city of Indore was not so much haphazard. Rather, the evolution was, as Geddes would argue, the result of an evolution in the manner in which space of the city was rationalized with respect to the past, and emergent requirements, at particular moments in time. And yet, quite apart from his emphasis on the evolution of the city as an outward symptom of evolving inner reasons, there is also the matter of Geddes' emphasis, in the report, on his own evolution as an urban planner. If, on the one hand, Geddes wrote with considerable confidence about the ways in which changes in civic dispositions could impress and leave a mark upon the space of the city, on the other hand, he was also at pains to express how the very experience of working in the spaces of towns, such as Indore, served to impress upon and disproportion his own inner, civic rationale. Much is evident in the chapters Geddes devoted to sanitation and drainage in the Indore report. Organic vs artificial growth Geddes had, as he observed in those chapters, been initially of the view that importing abstract, European drainage plans into India was a natural and necessary aspect of modernising the country's cities. However, upon learning about the considerable cost overlays entailed in imposing new drainage plans on these cities, within the framework of their pre-existing town-plans, Geddes came to realize the inadequacy of his own views regarding sanitation. The task of laying out a drainage plan, as he now saw it, was not to be left by town planners to the devices of drainage experts, after they had planned a city. But rather, he now saw how working out a drainage plan that was in keeping with the city's topography and its economy, was part and parcel of the task of town-planning itself. If in the past Geddes had been an unquestioning believer in the salutary influence of new, European drainage plans, now, as his own experiences in the spaces of Indian cities began to press upon him, he increasingly sought to go beyond thinking about sanitation in the abstract. He explored the ways in which modern sanitation could be integrated into a pre-existing town plan and topography, so as to make sewage, and storm water disposal a more viable economic proposition. Given Geddes' credentials as a town planner, one could, of course, be led to assume that he emphasised how his own thinking about sanitation had changed, because he wished to extend the brief of the discipline of town planning. And yet, a more careful scrutiny of the Indore report would suggest that Geddes was far more ambitious; through his writing he sought to draw attention to abstraction itself. So much is evident in the portions of his report devoted to the outlook tower he had proposed for construction on the Ghatio peninsula near the Krishnapura bridge in Indore, as a part of a larger library and museum complex that was to embody, in his understanding, "the intellectual centre and crossing-point of the city, and to be its educational focus and centre as well." Abstraction in architecture From the turret of this proposed Outlook Tower, one could be expected to discern in what Geddes identified as a mood of "new vividness," the immediate roofs and tree tops of the city, its rivers uniting into one, its houses, streets and markets, its busy circulation to and fro, its palace towers, its monumental dome and its spires. More significantly, on this high roost, Geddes further proposed a chamber with a picture of the engirdling natural landscape projected onto a central table by a wizard's glass or turning mirror and lens. In Geddes' understanding, this representation of the surrounding landscape, which was to forever transmute itself to the tune of the passage of time, the gathering of clouds and storms and the attendant shifts in aspects of light and shade, was to surpass the work of the most sensitive painters of the time. On the one hand, then, Geddes demonstrated how adhering to the writ of a pre-existing topography was a more economically viable proposition than imposing an abstract European drainage plan upon the city. On the other hand, in the context of the outlook tower, he sought to demonstrate the limits of abstract representationalism as such. The appeal of what he called "the many coloured world of man and nature" as made visible through the wizard's glass in the outlook tower, was, as Geddes saw it, far more prepossessing than the appeal of an abstract, painterly representation of it. Withdrawal from outer world And yet, however much Geddes may have railed against abstraction, he was never entirely able to do away with it. In the corner of the roof of the outlook tower, for instance, Geddes proposed a small cell which was to remain, he observed, "without disturbing windows." In this space, which was to be a redoubt for abstract philosophers, or what he identified as the space of the "in look" the artist, according to Geddes, "withdraws from the outside phenomenal environment, and creates his picture, and his imagery seizes him." One wonders, then, to what extent such a space of meditation, in which the idioms of thought and intellectual expression may have been preserved from all impressionability, seized hold of Geddes and disproportioned his conception of the history of the spaces of Indore and his experiences within that town as a planner? Indeed, to what extent did the inward cell of a space of an isolated, sovereign, unchanging self, begin to refract or tint Geddes' observations and insights, in the limited hues of an abstract philosopher's imagination? These perhaps are questions which can serve as a turbulent canvas or a backdrop for the difficult urban transformations of our own peculiar time. The writer, an eminent architectural historian, is a Nehru Memorial Fellow.
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