Alaska - Views to Drive For

Parked in an RV park just outside the Homer Spit. Everyone raves about the Homer Spit but we found the RV parks there crowded, expensive and frankly a bit trailer trashy in appearance. So we got out of the spit and stumbled upon this amazing RV park with just the most spectacular, uninterrupted view of the Kachemak Bay.



Another RV park along the the Sterling Highway. You are guaranteed scenic views pretty much everywhere on the Kenai Peninsula.



This is the view you get while driving along the first 50 miles of the Seward Highway. These are the waters of the Cook Inlet, the Alaska railroad hugs the coast and the Chugach Mountains rise up all around.




Views to Drive For
Do the words ‘vacation in Alaska’ evoke an image of a fine white cruise ship sailing silently past glaciers and icebergs? Do you imagine yourself standing on deck, binoculars firmly in place, trying to spot the odd beluga whale or polar bear? If you do then you are not alone my friend. Travel companies over the years have built a formidable reputation around Alaska as a cruise destination. But after a road trip through parts of the state, I must say that that branding has happened at the expense of another truly wonderful mode of transport – the RV or motor home. “But wait”, you say, “RVing sounds difficult.” “What are Alaskan roads like? How can I drive there? Surely, I’ll get lost!” We had many of the same apprehensions at the start of our journey into the centre of Alaska so read on for how it all turned out.


How can I drive an RV?
We flew into Anchorage and rented our RV from there. It was 29 feet long and basically when we saw our RV we gulped knowing that we were all graduating into the big boys club. Size, however, is deceptive. Thanks to power-steering and automatic transmission driving an RV is so embarrassingly easy that you really don’t get any bragging rights. No gear shifts, no muscle testing tackles with the steering wheel and no neck Twizzler reverses either. When you want to back up just send one of your co-passengers to guide you. And when you want to go forward, well, just do it! But the only way you’re getting your hands on the big baby is if you have an international driver’s license which you should take with you from India.


What are Alaska’s roads like?
In the summer, they are mostly splendid and if you go there in mid-May like we did, just before the peak season starts, the roads are also empty. This combination makes it a great driving experience. And since this is Alaska the views are to drive for. A personal favourite of ours is now the Seward Highway – it takes you south from Anchorage into the Kenai Peninsula and is flanked in the first 50 miles by the waters of the Cook Inlet and the Chugach Mountains. Remember those car scenes in old films? You’d know the car is stock still while the scenery in the background keeps changing to give the appearance of movement? Driving on some of these roads can feel like that because the vistas remain fantastic for miles on end.


How many can stay in an RV?
Legally the number of people in the RV should be equal to the number of seat belts in it. Period. Practically, you don’t want to be packed in like sardines. So it really depends on what you’re comfortable with. We were five adults in a 29 foot RV meant for six and while it was impossible to do anything without bumping into one another, at night we all had separate spots and slept comfortably.


What is the inside of the RV like?
If you live in an RV for a few days you will not be complaining about how small your house feels (if it does). There is more room there than you can imagine and at the end of our trip the RV fan club had grown by five. Life and space are in fact what you make of it. The RV has a kitchenette complete with stove, oven, sink, fridge and some counter space. It also has a shower area, a separate toilet, a “master bedroom”, a dining table that turns into a bed at night, a bunk bed above the driver’s seat and several other nooks that are a marvel of space management. Ironically if you want privacy you have to escape into the outdoors – where for miles on end you can potentially meet noone.


Where do I park for the night?
There are RV parks all along Alaska’s highways and most of them have excellent bathrooms and a laundry room. You can save many of your RV’s own resources and plug into the public ones for a small fee per night. During peak summer you have to call and make bookings in advance but in May most parks are still empty so you can simply drive right in, find a spot you like and park. If the manager has left for the day then settle your bills in the morning. Of course you could just as well park anywhere that catches your fancy – by the side of a stream, or on the base of the Chugach mountains or anywhere really but you need to have a full battery and water tank to support such a move.


Is it expensive?
RVing is not expensive but it is not cheap either. What I mean is that the advantage it offers over staying at hotels is reaped if you have a big group in the RV and you do it for a longer duration of time. Economies of scale sort of thing. We did it over 12 days and saved a lot of money on hotel stays and food because we cooked many of our meals. But you are still paying a daily rental fee, mileage charges, fuel costs, RV park rentals and a one-time house-keeping fee. It can add up but it is oh so much fun!


We drove along some of Alaska’s best highways like the Seward, Sterling, Glenn, Richardson and Parks highway and its safe to say that pretty much all of them offered spectacular views – some just more consistently than others. I don’t know the joys of a cruise ship but I’ll bet a million bucks on the thrills of RVing in Alaska.

Give Me What I Want, What I Really, Really Want

When I was younger, marriage wasn’t a particularly appealing prospect. I mean how boring to be stuck with one man all your life when variety is a well-known spice. However even in the deep cynicism that sometimes afflicts the young, I have to say that one thing about marriage was wonderful even back then. Gifts. Aaaaaahhh. The idea of standing on a stage receiving hundreds, indeed thousands, (hey, I’m Indian) of gifts on your wedding day was mesmerizing. For that one thing alone it was all worth it, I thought. But then I really did get married and what a great shock it has been to the system. Things are not what they seem and everything has turned upside down. The idea of one man is now very appealing but the gifts – oh dear, oh dear – what a great big disappointment!


So here I propose a radical overhaul in the way we give gifts at weddings in India.


I’m writing about this many months after my wedding because I had to go out to buy a gift today for a little new born. Allow me to digress completely here. The mother and child will be leaving town soon to return home so I took great care to avoid bulk. After a quick browse, for I hate dallying in malls, I settled upon a little blue pillow and a little blue baby suit. If you’re good at packing a bag, you know that both these items can be compressed to the size of an adult fist - easy to pack, unbreakable and utterly useful. No mother looks at a little blue pillow and tosses it into the rubbish heap. And if it has a stuffed teddy on it, no way! Pleased with my purchase I have now packed the gift into a little, believe it or not, blue bag which is ready to be personally delivered tonight.


At the risk of beating my own drum I want to say that I took great care to buy the gift. I had a modest budget but I put an effort into creating something of value for the user. And here I want to show you how this is all connected to wedding gifts.


Is it just me or have any of you had the experience of getting odd cups and saucers palmed off to you on your wedding day? Our parents had pleaded with the invitees not to bring “boxed gifts”. Basically we were subtly trying to tell everyone that we would be leaving the country so just bring cash. Or bring gold bars if you really must. Or just bring yourself for Christ’s sake. But please don’t bring in the crockery you don’t use.


Most people didn’t listen.


We ended up with lots of unwanted coffee mugs, tea cups, a kettle, random cut glass dishes and a hideous photo frame. It’s all sitting in cupboards at our parents’ house, occupying space and will probably not be of use to us in this millennium or the next. Why, oh why can’t people be more thoughtful about what they give? Don’t get the wrong impression, I really don’t mind recycled gifts. My grandmother is constantly giving me things she doesn’t want but only because she knows I’ll love them. She never gives me a jute sack or a gold tray, or a Swarovski pig. That she knows will go out the window. So why can’t more Indian wedding guests put some effort into gift-giving?


Because they don't, here is my proposal. If the gift registry concept won’t work in India because people won’t use their credit cards online, then the bride and groom may have a collection of gifts of every price range ready at the door. Just pay up front, put your name down against it, wish the bride and groom, eat and leave. All’s well that ends well and the couple can live happily ever after without the clutter of bad china.


Doable you think?

Book Review: Notes From a Small Island

I will now be reviewing books on this blog. It’s not so much a passion for a new genre than a need to keep my memory from simply erasing the contents of a book 3 months after reading it.

For instance people often ask if I’ve read so-and-so book and I nod enthusiastically because I have a vague memory of having extracted a lot of joy from it. Then that person might go on to say, “The character of Dorothy Waldorf Kent is so well developed - like the time she runs away with a married man abandoning her husband of 12 years only to find that this married man is an old git and farts even louder than her previous one. Remember?” This will leave me completely mystified because neither will I remember anything about old gits and farts; nor will the name of this adulterous Mrs. Waldorf Kent set off any bells.

It is to rectify this situation that I am now going to write book reviews and here I begin with Bill Bryson’s “Notes from a Small Island.”

The Times blurb on the cover of my book warns that this is “Not a book that should be read in public, for fear of emitting loud snorts” and I am glad that I didn’t take it out of the house because I found several loud snorts essaying forth quite involuntarily.

The small island Bryson is on is the British one and in this book, travel writer Bryson criss-crosses the foggy, rainy country from John O’Groats (this is really a place, not a person) up in Scotland to Exeter and Bournemouth in the south. He is on a long trundle through the country to rediscover it before hauling himself and his family back home to vast America.

Bryson’s observations on Britain are often quintessentially American. He likes his gratification instant and his logic cold. But as a resident of North Yorkshire for many years Bryson also knows the country really well so his disdain or sheer delight at the idiosyncrasies of Britishers has complete credibility. Like the time when he says that Communism should have been left to the British instead of the Russians who we all know botched the whole thing up. He says Britishers would have done it properly because all the conditions are right. They like “going without, queing up indefinitely and accepting with rare fortitude the imposition of rationing and bland diets” among a host of other things.

Bryson tickles with his wonderfully keen eye for little detail. He has the ability to entertain while being utterly bored out of his skull himself. He does not leap from one grand adventure to the next. Instead he delights with his gift of making everyday observations about fellow diners in dull restaurants, empty town squares in quaint British towns, long train rides and several other mundane things that all travelers need to do to get from one destination to the next.

Through his eyes, Britain emerges as a funny, silly, grand and wonderful place. In the early part of the book Bryson is mostly in places he doesn’t take a shine to – criticizing everything from Oxford’s awful new buildings to crusty old Britishers who love dissing America. But as the weeks go by and he wanders from one town to the next, all the quirks of the British system and way of life are brought alive in the most hilarious sketch I’ve read in a long time. About Britain, Bryson concludes, “What a wondrous place this was – crazy as fuck, of course, but adorable to the tiniest degree.” Makes you want to immediately pack your bags and away to Her Majesty’s blessed plot.

Insecure at an Indian Airport

I have held the view for a long time that Indian air passengers are plain lucky. In fact, there should be a prayer room at every arrival lounge because security at Indian airports is so lax that every time we fly and emerge at the other end of a flight alive, we can all head to the prayer room for a little thanks to the Almighty.

I was flying from Chennai to Calcutta a few days before Independence Day, when everything is generally on “high alert.” At the Chennai airport, the machine that puts the stubborn plastic tape around checked baggage was not working. No one put any stickers on my lock and neither did they insert a thin plastic strip through the zipper handle that keeps bags locked. All I got was a flimsy sticker with the date on it and that too was ready to drop off at the lightest touch. I could have put a baby crocodile into my suitcase if it had suddenly caught my fancy.

I handed over my bag to the airline agent hoping that there would be another level of security after that so that anyone else deciding to travel with live animals or explosive devices might yet be detected. But there probably wasn’t.

After collecting my boarding pass, I headed over for a personal security check. I entered the ladies screening area and as the bored lady in a khaki saree started running her metal detector device on my upper body, I remembered that I had a set of keys in my jeans. But before we could get to my lower half she surrendered her device, stamped my boarding pass and sent me on my way! If I’d had the time, I might’ve insisted, “Lady, I have metal in my pocket. Don’t you want to check?”

But she may have still said no because it was lunchtime and two of her colleagues were already at a table in the curtained screening area eating rice in an eager, hurried manner. I shoved off to collect my things.

Once at my destination a few hours later, I found that one of my bags arrived without its lock. It was gone. Vanished. These days it’s more worrying because of the things people can put into your bag rather than remove from it. Anyone could’ve introduced a packet of some banned substance and had any sniffer dogs been around I would probably be clocking time in jail. Curiously, nothing was stolen from my bag but I can’t rule out the possibility that the person trying was disgusted with the tangle of clothes and probably just gave up.

None of the scary scenarios involving baby reptiles and contraband substances took place of course. But the manner, in which security was handled, really does not inspire any confidence in the security measures in place at many Indian airports. Even the basic, very first level of security is handled in a half-hearted, bored, perfunctory way that makes it all one big joke. Laugh on. Pray on.

Alaska by Road

Ice on the edge of the Grewingk Glacier Lake

Driving down the scenic Seward Highway in an RV

The icy waters of the Prince William Sound

A bear at a parking lot in Cooper Landing on the Kenai Peninsula

Todd, our boatman drops us off at the Kachemak Bay State Park

The Glacier Lake Trail inside the Kachemak Bay State Park


A Russian Orthodox Church in the village of Ninilchik

It sounded like the tinkling of ice cubes in a glass; except there was no glass, only a large lake. The water on the edge of the Grewingk Glacier Lake had turned into cubes of ice and gentle waves knocked them against the gravel on the shore creating a jingling sound I had never heard before in the outdoors.

From the calving of a glacier through the cries of a kittiwake to the crunching of your own footsteps on a lonely gravel beach - in Alaska, you have to listen as much as you have to look. In bear country, your safety could depend on it.

With the goal of covering as much of south-central Alaska as possible, we rented a 29-foot RV (recreational vehicle or motor home) instead of getting on a cruise ship: No need to book hotel rooms or plan our sorties into the great outdoors and we could stop anytime to enjoy the Alaskan wildlife, landscape and history. RVing in the crisp early summer on Alaska's empty highways was freedom unlimited.

We picked up our RV after landing in Anchorage and headed south for the Kenai Peninsula where our first stop was the port town of Whittier. To get there we started down the eye-candy road called the Seward Highway which is flanked by the Cook Inlet and snow-capped mountains, with views to challenge the sharpest drivers' concentration.

Whittier is a small, dull town but it is one of the gateways to the Prince William Sound. We got on a boat to make the day-trip through the Sound to look at glaciers. Everytime a glacier came into view the captain of the boat inched as close as possible to it and cut off the engines as everyone on deck waited and watched for calving - the process by which chunks of ice break off resulting in the birth of an iceberg. It was hard to train our sights on the exact location where the ice was calving because of the wall of white before us but everytime a piece fell it went down with such a clap of thunder that you will eventually see one.

From the Seward Highway we headed further south down the Kenai Peninsula on the Sterling Highway. Back in 1867, the Russians sold Alaska to the Americans for the grand sum of $7.2 million. On our drive down the Peninsula we kept a keen eye out for this Russian influence. Wanting to see atleast one Russian Orthodox Church we got off the Sterling Highway entering the village of Ninilchik and found one at the end of the appropriately named 'Orthodox Avenue'. Just before the land dropped sharply into the sea, stood a beautiful white church with a green roof and ochre onion domes. As we marvelled at the Matryoshka dolls inside, a bishop emerged to start a service with all of two individuals. We stood near the entrance in awkward silence for a few minutes before shuffling out, only to find a notice about a funeral service! We had stupidly stumbled into someones 'leave taking' ceremony!

From leave taking ceremonies we finally reached lands end at Homer for the stuff of life. We hired a water taxi to take us across the Kachemak Bay to the wilderness of the 400,000 acres of the Kachemak Bay State Park full of forests and wildlife. Bulked up in layers of warm clothing, we raced along the water, landing on a lonely shore 20 minutes later. Todd, our boatman from upstate New York (the tourism industry seems run entirely by non-natives from the lower 48!) promised to return in five hours. We embarked upon the Glacier Lake trail, keeping up a loud chatter to alert any bears in the neighbourhood of our presence - a good thing too, because we came across dollops of fresh bear dung. Thankfully, the trails in Alaska's state parks are well-marked and watched over: Hikers sign a register before setting off, ensuring their absence will be noted should they get lost.

The trail took us uphill through a wooded area of spruce and cottonwood trees, plateaued and then opened up suddenly into a beautiful lake with the Grewingk Glacier flowing frozen into it. And it was here that we heard nature's little jingle of ice cubes clinking against the shore. The only disruption came from a cawing raven, probably irritated by us intruders.

From Homer, it was time to turn around the RV and head back to Anchorage to proceed east to Valdez. But we still had a gaping bear-sized hole in our Kenai experience. This longing to see a bear was fulfilled in the most unexpected of places - a parking lot. Halfway to Anchorage we pulled into a parking lot by a stream near Cooper Landing and found that about 20 feet away from us a brown bear was scrounging for food. He stayed completely oblivious to the five faces plastered against the window of the RV. We had five exclusive minutes photographing him up close till alert drivers along the highway started pulling in, sending him right back into the woods.

After four days on the Kenai it was hard to imagine that a few US Congressmen had opposed the purchase of Alaska from Russia. The place was derisively labeled "Icebergia" and "Walrussia" and the newspaper New York World declared, "Russia has sold us a sucked orange." Clearly, in the mid-19th century, it was hard to imagine you could do anything in Alaska but bundle up in layers of wool and stay indoors. But an Alaska summer is incredible fun, offering plenty of options and 20 hours of daylight.

And of the many sounds we loved, perhaps the one we grew most attached to was the gentle roar of our RV - a great big beast of a vehicle that took us to all the incredible nooks and became home even while allowing us to roam free.

Published in the Mint on 11th July 2009

Sunrise on Lake Michigan

The sunrise on Lake Michigan is such a beautiful spectacle that it should be on anyone's list of must-do things in the summer in Chicago. The rising sun drenches the sky in shades ranging from flaming orange to flamingo pink and you can treat yourself to a sound and light show of water and sunshine to start a brand new day.

Souvenir Shopping in Alaska. Not.

A gift shop on the Homer Spit in Alaska. You don't see that much native art and craft in regular gift stores.

"If two or more people gather in one location, the state of Alaska has mandated that a gift shop should immediately be set up there," said Bobsky, the rafting guide. His sarcastic remark came at the end of a trip where I'd had the niggling feeling that Alaska had been heavily "souvenirised". I said to myself, "Moose crap! He might be right."

Don't get me wrong. I like buying souvenirs. But souvenirs have to have meaning or value or both. I stopped buying stuff with "L.A" and "London" emblazoned on shot glasses, plates, mugs, ash-trays, key chains and T-shirts, a long time ago. My eyes simply glaze over.

I had that glazed experience so often in Alaska's ubiquitous gift shops that I have come back with no souvenirs. Nothing. That is a real pity in a state with rich native arts and crafts. It is also one of the more unfortunate aspects to this "souvenirisation" - the same old silly stuffed toy makes it to the shelf but native crafts don't. This may just be a reflection also of the fact that the tourist industry seems run entirely by people from the lower 48 and more than half of Alaska's settlers are non-natives anyway.

Then there are also things that I couldn't decide were creative or stupid. For instance, in Valdez, where the devastating Exxon Valdez oil spill took place in 1989, one gift-store was selling oil from that spill in vials. A little floating black blob can be yours for $6. Is this creative marketing or is it squeezing a tragedy for commercial gain?

Then there are earrings made from moose droppings. Moose eject neat oblong pellets which are dried and painted over and sold as ornaments. Again, it's creative till you think about whether you want shit dangling from your earlobes or have it fertilize the earth instead - where it arguably belongs. I'm not really sure.

Alaskan native art is alive. It's just not "souvenirsed" like stuffed bears. So serves me right to return without anything because I didn't have the time to go find native crafts. But I hope next time it finds me.

Fallen Philadelphia Officers Remembered

On a windy, grey afternoon in Washington D.C. on Wednesday, the names of four Philadelphia Police Officers were engraved on the marble walls of the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial.

Sergeants Stephen Liczbinski and Patrick McDonald were shot and killed by armed criminals while Sgt. Timothy Simpson and Officer Isabel Nazario died in vehicle crashes. "They join 247 other members of the Philadelphia Police Department who made the ultimate sacrifice throughout history as the 3rd highest total of any municipal police agency in the United States" said Craig W. Floyd, Chairman and CEO of the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund. The Philadelphia Police Department had the highest fatality figure in the United States in 2008.

Philadelphia Police Commissioner Charles H. Ramsey has been in Philadelphia for about 15 months during which time these fatalities took place. He said, "2008 was not a good year for us at the Philadelphia Police Department by any stretch of the imagination."

Nearly 45 Philadelphia police officers and commanders came down to the nation's capital for the ceremony. They stood in a row behind family members watching the names being engraved on the wall.

Kevin Hodges, the 4th commander of the 24th police district was in command when Sergeant Simpson was killed. He said "Unfortunately for these families in a 7 year period, we hadn't lost any officers. Unfortunately in the last 24 months we have lost 7 officers"

While 2008 was a bad year for the Philadelphia Police Department, according to research done by the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund, 2008 actually witnessed a sharp drop in overall gun-related deaths in the police. However for the 11th straight year, more officers died in traffic-related incidents.

Officer Isabel Nazario was killed instantly when a 16-year-old broadsided her police car on the passenger side. Her partner was critically injured. Her family wept as they etched her name on a piece of paper at the Memorial where more than 200 female police officers are remembered. Last year the number of female police officer deaths doubled from 6 in 2007 to 13 in 2008. It is one of the highest fatality figures amongst female officers in years.

The Philadelphia police officers arrived in buses and headed back the same afternoon after the ceremony. The National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial will continue to engrave the names of 254 others from around the country who died in previous years. All these names will be formally dedicated on the Memorial during the 21st Annual Candlelight Vigil on the evening of May 13th.

Meanwhile, the larger effort of recognizing the work done by policemen over the years is taking shape in the form of a permanent museum, right next to the memorial. It is likely to open in 2013.

This article and a slideshow are available on the WPVI-TV website.

Why We Need Police Reform in India. Badly.

I argued all day. But in the end the assailant won.

He was a police officer.

In February 2006, my cameraman and I had been assaulted by a senior police officer and his henchmen (not policemen) while filming their brutality trying to put down a protest on an engineering college campus in Chennai.

In an irony of Indian bureaucracy, I had to plead with the same police officer to write a complaint against himself in his own police station!

Of course he didn’t.

Instead, I was given a useless piece of paper that said a Revenue Officer would investigate my claims because my allegation was against a Police Officer.

No action was taken. Nothing happened.

And that in fact is also the two-word summary of police reform in India.

Business leaders should join civil society groups to lobby the government to overhaul our police system. Thousands of Indians live below justice and a corrupt, ineffective police adversely affects us all. It affects the health of our democracy and also our economic growth.

Police reform is crucial in three main areas.

First, India’s basic police law needs to change. Commerce Minister Kamal Nath has triumphantly dedicated the 21st century to India. We seriously need to ask why then are we are still using 19th century laws?

The Indian Police Act in use today was written in 1861 by the British Empire whose primary use of the police was to protect their commercial interests against the rising tide of nationalism. Descendants of that Imperial Police, our policemen in 2009, continue to behave as though they need to tame the natives rather than maintain order for citizens.

Acting as a stooge of the ruling party, the Indian police is often brutish and insensitive, siding largely with the powerful rather than protecting the weak. After Independence, several states introduced their own laws governing the police but many of these laws are modeled after the 1861 law and some in fact are even worse, requiring little police accountability. That’s why India needs a new law structured around democratic policing and human rights. This imperial, 19th century law belongs in a history text book.

Second, policing needs to be depoliticized.

It would be unfair to lay the entire blame for the abysmal law and order situation on the Indian Police Service (IPS). The police is crippled in large part because of its bosses – the parliamentarians and legislators – many of whom are corrupt to the core. Any honest police officer who stands up to them is promptly transferred. The threat of transfers hangs over every policeman’s head and for officers with families, constant transfers takes a huge personal toll. Avoiding transfers in turn breeds a culture of conformity and corruption.

According to Transparency International’s 2005 report, the value of petty corruption in the police is estimated at Rs.3,899 crores (approximately 800 million dollars). The report also found that 80% of people who had contacted the police had paid a bribe. That percentage should set off alarm bells but there is absolutely no political will to change the status quo.

Politicians have resisted legislation to make the police more independent because it threatens their power directly. After Indira Gandhi’s infamous Emergency ended in 1977, the government set up a National Police Commission which made several important recommendations to shield the police from political interference. Over 30 years later, many of those recommendations are still in cold storage.

As governments come and go, police officers go through a merry-go-round of transfers. This practice has become so entrenched that there are reports of corrupt police officers in turn, bribing politicians for powerful positions. The whole thing stinks.

Third, the Indian police needs to be sensitized to human rights, gender rights and constitutional guarantees of equality. People constantly talk about how we need tough terror laws. I think, in fact, what we need is a kinder police. Statistics on police brutality quite naturally don’t reflect the scale of the problem. But there is plenty of anecdotal and video evidence to show that police officers at best stand by silently during mob attacks and at worst, participate in violence themselves.

In a rapidly changing rural landscape, the traditional forums of justice like the Panchayats (local village councils) are fast vanishing and the police are required to step in to solve disputes. But the police, with their own caste and communal baggage, act in partisan ways. In a milieu where people have a higher consciousness of their civic rights this creates further turmoil because traditional forums don’t always work and the police take sides further inflaming the problem.

Economic and social changes are placing a much heavier burden on the police and the threats of terrorism and insurgency are only too real. Of India’s 611 districts, 172 are said to face tribal and Maoist insurgencies and urban India is still recovering from the latest shock of the Mumbai attacks. Our police forces are hopelessly unprepared to meet the challenges of policing modern India.

After the Mumbai attacks many angry protesters carried posters saying they would not pay their taxes. Disengaging is unfortunately not the solution if we want a robust democracy and a stable political and economic climate. Indian business has a strong stake in this and should use its leverage in government to push for police reform.

For the business community, this is a great way to help India while helping itself.

This op-ed was published in a Kellogg School of Management publication, brought out during the 'India Business Conference.'

Book Review: Guests of the Sheik

On a dark rainy night in January, Robert Fernea broke open the padlock to a little mud home in El-Nahra, to introduce his bride to their new home. Birds chirped overhead from the thatched ceiling and the room was littered with books, papers, clothes, blankets and dishes. The year was 1956 and Elizabeth Fernea struggling to carry her luggage and keep her black cloak on (abayah) entered the threshold of her new life in Iraq. And here begins her book, ‘Guests of the Sheikh, An Ethnography of an Iraqi Village’.

For readers weary of the post-invasion American gaze on Iraq, this is a refreshing piece of work, written in 1965. Written with sincere humility and respect, it tells us of the lives and concerns of the people of this tiny village in southern Iraq where so much happens even if it appears stuck in a time warp.

Elizabeth accompanies her husband Bob, (known to the villagers as Mr. Bob) on his doctoral research studies in the village. Both diligently follow the rules of society to avoid becoming a hindrance in their own work of observation. They are the guests of the local Sheikh Haji Hamid and live in his guest house for almost two years, recording the lives of the tribal inhabitants of the village.

The discomfort of a little mud house in the middle of a conservative and traditional Iraqi village are all initially bewildering for Elizabeth – brought up in Canada and Portland, Oregon. But as she dedicates herself to the rule book that includes gender segregation and veiling and allows herself to be swept up in the lives of the local women, she starts to form bonds and eventually deep friendships.

This is not a long litany of a western woman’s woes in the midst of such a different society. Fernea writes with a warm and matter-of-fact tone, placing everything in the local context - ranging from the longing for boy babies to the curse of being unmarried.

Her education and western freedoms hardly make her the object of envy in El-Nahra. On the other hand she is pitied. She has no gold, lives far away from her mother, has no children and cannot even cook rice! The initial weeks and months are full of trepidation and emotional lows as she enters the world of the village women all by herself - a world full of playful and often seemingly cruel teasing.

But Fernea makes her way, slowly but surely into this world and in fact her finest touch is in the way she makes each of these heavily veiled village women – Laila, Sherifa, Selma, Aziza and several others, emerge as colourful characters. These women take Fernea under their wing, protecting her from Mr. Bob’s imaginary beatings (as they expect any normal Iraqi husband to do) teaching her how to cook rice and even keeping her away from the company of strange men (American friends who Fernea longs to share a beer with!).

The book brings alive the daily rhythms of this little Iraqi village going through the full annual cycle of highlights – Ramadan, Eid, Ashura (this is a Shia village), the pilgrimage to the holy city of Karbala, the harvests and the feasts. The reader is drawn into the womens inner gossip circle about who is to marry whom, who is pregnant and who will be the new school teacher.

The main preoccupation seems to be the impact of the salinity of the land. The Iraqi nationalism of the 1950s does not seem to touch the village except for the few central government employees such as the young irrigation officer – Jabbar who believes in the communist revolution and the young school teacher Aziza who desperately wants to learn English and goes unveiled when she is in Baghdad.

For the others, life is largely still about the old rules of tribal fealty and family honour although here too attitudes towards women’s education are changing. The young Basima is being sent to school in Diwaniya and the fact that she will live in a house with unmarried men invites a few sharp comments from the Sheikh’s wife Selma.

Fernea’s descriptive power is strong and the fact that she refrains from throwing in her own judgments every few paragraphs makes her work uncluttered and enjoyable to read.

She and her husband left Iraq in 1958, the year Abd al-Karim Qasim became Prime Minister overthrowing the monarchy. The revolution had come to Iraq although everything was soon to go horribly wrong under the Baathists and Shia society would experience a long period of repression.

Fernea died last year at the age of 81, after a long and productive career as professor of comparative literature and middle east studies at the University of Texas.

Her work is that much more valuable as it captures the beauty of a small Mesopotamian village ahead of its darkest days.

How Not To Conduct a Press Conference

Cliff Kincaid speaking at the National Press Club at a press conference held by 'The Campaign for Justice for Victims of Weather Underground'.

Retired police officer James Pera.

Larry Grathwohl who said he infiltrated the Weather Underground while working for the FBI.

On March 12th, the ‘Campaign for Justice for Victims of Weather Underground Terrorism’ held a press conference at the National Press Club in DC. It was held, in hindsight rather inappropriately, at the First Amendment Lounge. Part of the conference was used to rant against Rupert Murdoch’s publishing company Harper Collins for promoting former Weatherman, Mark Ruud’s book. Cliff Kincaid, journalist and editor of Accuracy in Media (AIM) demanded, “Kill this book, a despicable terrorist memoir.” (He later clarified that he didn’t want the book banned, he just wanted Harper Collins to drop it.)

The group called the conference to highlight their call for justice for Sgt. Brian V. McDonnell who was killed in 1970 when a bomb went off at the Golden Gate Park Police Station in San Francisco. They want the Justice Department to redouble efforts in helping solve the case by providing all evidence it has. Furthermore, one of the speakers, Larry Grathwohl, a former FBI agent who infiltrated the Weather Underground claims Bill Ayers, the group’s founder told him that his wife Bernadine Dohrne planted the bomb at the police station.

The group wants Ayers and Dohrne to testify under oath before a grand jury if they really are innocent as Bill Ayers has claimed in media interviews.

All perfectly reasonable so far.

But heres why this post is titled 'How not to Conduct a Press Conference'.

Things started to sound really strange when words such as ‘Marxism’ and ‘Communism’ were bandied about as though it was the height of the Cold war and Sputnik had just been lobbed into the outer atmosphere. The speakers' clocks seemed to be set to 1959 instead of the current year.

At the end of the five speeches after everyone had collectively dreamed up the insidious phantasm of radical leftist ideas raging wildly across college campuses, it was time for q and a with the media, even the gangrenous liberal one.

The first question came from an African-American reporter from Free Speech Radio. The reporter’s long-winded question was about why none of the speakers had addressed the question of police brutality and the tumultuous backdrop of the 1970s. He was silenced rudely by Cliff Kincaid and another speaker, James Pera, a retired police officer who accused the reporter, of being an “ignoramus who only reads books” and listens to radical preachers, among other things. Then they accused him of rationalizing violence and terrorism and finally threatened to call security. The reporter shot back saying, “I’ll leave on my own. Would you like me to?” Kincaid replied, “I want you to be quiet and let us talk.”

Moral of the story is this: There are some basic mistakes that should be avoided to ensure that you will be taken seriously by the media. Or anybody. Do not threaten to throw out reporters from the room because you don’t like their questions. Do not provide information 20 years late (such as the threat of Communism) and if you can help it, do not use the words “ignoramus” and “books” in the same sentence.

Worst One Yet

In the explosion of useless Obama merchandise, these drinking water bottles have to be the worst I've seen. But if you must buy the bottle make sure to display the part of the wrapper that says "I was there" as you chug down its contents. I highly doubt however that if you preserve the sticker wrapper for your grandkids they will get much for it.

Cosco Buson Oil Spill

Members of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB)

Barry Strauch, one of NTSB's staff investigators

Members of the investigating team presented their findings to the Board

Whose mistakes caused the freight ship Cosco Busan to collide with the San-Francisco Oakland Bay Bridge spilling 53,000 gallons of oil into the Bay? Nearly 15 months after the spill, The National Transportation and Safety Board (NTSB) held a day-long hearing on this question on Wednesday.

NTSB member, Debbie Hersman, was the “member on scene” in San Francisco overseeing the investigation. The case has involved plenty of finger-pointing with the pilot of the freighter blaming the Coast Guard and the ship operating company, Fleet Management Ltd blaming the pilot. Criticizing the narrow focus on pilot error, Hersmsan said, “I believe the pilot bears the lion’s share of the blame for the collision with the Bay Bridge but there are other people who are involved. While the pilot lined up the Cosco Busan on a collision course with the Bay Bridge, the VTS (Coast Guard’s Vessel Traffic Service) watch standers watched it happen.”

She said the NTSB investigation itself was hampered by the delay caused by the Coast Guard’s failure to assess the magnitude of the spill. “It failed to correct that gross inaccuracy throughout that first day even in the face of overwhelming evidence of a much larger spill.”

Examining the performance of the pilot and the master of the ship, Rob Jones an NTSB staff investigator, from the office of Marine Safety concluded that poor communication led to the accident. Another investigator Barry Strauch focused on the cultural differences between pilot and master that added to the poor communication.

Hersman reset the clock on the investigator’s conclusions calling into question the Coast Guard’s role once again. She said, “I think this accident happened when they left the dock. They should never have left the dock under those conditions.” There was dense fog in the bay that morning and four other ships had delayed passage and moved to anchorage instead to sit out the bad weather.

Various issues such as the pilot’s medical condition at the time of the accident, the role of the VTS and the environmental response that followed the spill were discussed at the hearing. The NTSB is expected to release a final report with its findings and recommendations later on Wednesday.

This piece is also available on the KGO-TV website.

CANYONS FROM THE TOP

My husband and I had planned a road trip to the Canyons in December last year. It's not the best time of year but we figured that since we were in Vegas we may as well go see the Canyons. We were tracking the notorious winter weather closely to make sure we weren't headed into any snow storms. Sure enough, a day before our planned departure from Vegas to Arizona, the road to the Canyons was closed because of a huge pile up of snow. Bummer. We would simply have to come back another time. Or so we thought.

Later that evening everything changed.

We have a cousin in Vegas who is a Captain in the US Air Force. He was planning to fly his parents and his wife over the Canyons the following day but his wife and mom (who fly frequently) changed their mind. So with two empty seats in the four seater, would we care to join?

When you can't drive, you fly??!! Our reply was obviously, "Hell Yeah!"

What follows is a photo essay of our flight.

Our cousin, Abizer Tyabji is a member of a flying club in Vegas from whom he rents his planes. We took off in the afternoon from the North Las Vegas Airfield. This is a view of the hangar. If you have a pilot's license its almost as easy as renting a car.

That day we flew a DA-40 - made by Diamond Aircraft Company. It is a four-seater and flies at about 140 mph ground speed. Abzi was flying this plane for the first time and really enjoyed it.

The best part was the wide glass paneling which afforded some wonderful panoramic views.

Abzi (left) preparing for the flight. Pulling out the gear such as headphones etc. I don't really know what else was in there.

Captain Abizer Tyabji

All aboard. Our only instructions were to keep quiet if ATC was talking to Abzi. We were first going to fly over the Hoover Dam and then onto the Canyons.

Thats the Hoover Dam down there. We just couldn't get over how Plan B and Plan A became Plan A +.

This is the source from where Vegas gets its water supply. The first picture is a close up of the sides of the reservoir. The sharp colour difference on the rim of the rock tells you how much the water has depleted.

Finally we are over the west rim of the Canyons. This is a landing strip for other commercial tours that fly over.

Captain Abizer Tyabji hanging out in his plane. He said it was easier to fly this baby than navigate in Vegas traffic.

It was a gorgeous day to fly - cold with a clear blue sky. The cold made it very comfortable inside the plane while the clear blue sky meant our plane was gliding like a happy bird.

After flying over the Canyons we flew over Abzi's Air Force Base on the way back. The little mounds that you can see in this photograph is where ammunition is stored - mostly dumb bombs for training and practice.

If you didn't guess already, yes those are F-16s sitting on the base.

We also had the pleasure of flying over the Vegas prison where O.J. Simpson is being held. Simpson has been sentenced to a maximum of 33 years with the possibility of parole after 9 years. He was involved in an armed confrontation with sports memorabilia dealers in a Las Vegas Hotel in 2007.

A view of the Strip. Abzi didn't get permission to fly right over it but this was also a good view.

We were in the air for about two hours flying over the Hoover Dam, Grand Canyon West, the US Air Force Base, O.J. Simpson's prison (!), Abzi's house, the Strip and finally touched down again at the North Las Vegas Airfield.

Like you do with a rental car, Abzi had to refuel the plane before returning it to a hangar. We used about 18 gallons for the flight.

This plane is so light, he could single-handedly lift it and turn it to get this wing near enough to the fuel station.

Pushing it though is a little bit tougher but three strong men can do the job.

The flight ends, Abzi clears it out and locks it down. Abzi and his wife fly all the time but for us it was a wonderful, thrilling ride.

THE SITUATION IN SRI LANKA

The tiny island of Sri Lanka has been ravaged by an on-again, off-again civil war since 1983. The militant, Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) has been battling the Sri Lankan government, for a separate Tamil homeland, Eelam, in the north and east of the island but without much success. In the process, nearly 70,000 civilians have died. The present government under President Mahinda Rajapakse has re-launched a military offensive to finish off the LTTE militarily. To make sense of the latest conflict, I interviewed Associate Editor of Indian newspaper, Deccan Herald, Sundararajan Murari.

Murari has toured Sri Lanka extensively and has covered the conflict for the last 25 years and has met several LTTE leaders, including Prabhakaran twice. He responded to questions over email from his hometown in Chennai, India.

Murari is both a friend and former colleague when I was working in Chennai. He is an excellent source for all things Dravidian and Lankan. You can read his interview on the website of the International Affairs Review.

PRESIDENT OBAMA MEETS WITH 9/11 AND COLE FAMILIES

John Clodfeller, father of Kenneth Clodfeller who died in the attack against the USS Cole in 2000.

The White House press waiting for the 9/11 and Cole families.

For all the Republican talk about supporting the troops, it was with some surprise that I learnt that George Bush hadn’t once met the victims of the bombing of the USS Cole in which 17 American servicemen died.

On February 6th, President Obama met the Cole families along with families of the victims of 9/11.The meeting was meant to allay some of their fears about the closure of Guantanamo Bay and the 120 day suspension in legal proceedings against terror suspects detained there.

The press staked out outside the West wing of the White House for a few hours waiting for the families after the meeting. The 9/11 families left without speaking to the media but the parents of Kenneth Clodfeller, who passed away in the Cole attack stayed to speak to the press. Accompanying them was the retired Cmdr. of the USS Cole, Kirk Lippold.

Cmdr. Lippold had criticized President Obama’s decision to close Guantanamo Bay and while he emerged from the meeting “pleased with what the President said”, he still had strong reservations about the decision. He said, “It (Guantanamo Bay) served as a symbol of the war on terror that was affecting our national interests worldwide and overall the only issue that I still have with it was that he closed it on a one year date and still has to articulate procedures and policies for what hes going to do. So until those procedures and policies are actually laid out I think there is still a lot of concern as to what effect it’s going to have on our nation’s security.”

I asked him if that meant that he agreed in principle now with the closure decision to which he said, “I think that in principle the reasons that he gave may be good. Its well intentioned. But the problem I have remains that we still don’t have any procedures. There’s no process. He hasn’t articulated the specifics as to what hes going to do which means that they haven’t thought through the second and third order of impacts of that decision and we cannot afford to be arbitrarily setting deadlines without having to explain what the impact is going to be. We must have that.”

The families have been somewhat taken aback by the pace at which policy reversals have happened and Cmdr. Lippold strongly felt that President Obama should have met the families before making the decision to close Guantanamo and not after. That said, Cmdr. Lippold was also pleased that the White House had attempted to start a dialogue with military families. He said, “When it was all said and done he offered somethings that previously has never been done and for the first time, military families and families of 9/11 are going to have a seat at the table to be able to help this administration and have an open door as we articulate the policies that are going to keep our nation safe. I’m looking forward to working and seeing how they do.”

FAMILIES HAVE WAITED 8 YEARS

Most of the families came to the meeting with the impression that President Obama was going to release all the detainees of Guantanamo Bay – a fear that was allayed atleast for one USS Cole victim’s family – the Clodfellers from Mechanicsville, VA.

John Clodfeller’s son Kenneth’s body was the last to be found after the Cole bombing in Yemen. The former Air Force Officer became extremely emotional while talking to the media. It was clear that being remembered by the highest authority in the land meant a lot to him and in fact, the new young, President seemed to have had a remarkable influence on him.

Describing the meeting he said, “He (President Obama) really wants our help in trying to resolve this detainee issue. I did not vote for the man but the way he conducts himself, the way he talks to you, you can’t help but believe him. This President has a good possibility of being one of our best Presidents just because of the way he is as a human being.”

Abd-al-Rahim al-Nashiri has been accused of masterminding the USS Cole attack in which Kenneth Clodfeller died. But al-Nashiri has said that he was tortured to extract such a confession. The CIA has admitted that it “waterboarded” him but the interrogation tapes have since been destroyed.

Referring to the status of al-Nashiri Clodfeller said, “I can’t imagine an American that’s in one of our prisons for eight years without anything being done for him. It is just unconscionable that it’s taken eight years. They had him locked up and incommunicado. I asked CIA once, “Where is he?” and they refused to tell me," he said.

Clodfeller had tried to meet with President Bush through his representative in Congress but in vain. He said Bush’s refusal to meet with the Cole families led him to believe that “there’s something that they don’t want us to know about.”

His wife Gloria Clodfeller who was also at the meeting with Obama said that she agreed with President Obama’s policy of closing Guantanamo because it was “putting a black eye on America.” She said, “Hes trying to build up the way people feel about America again. To get our respect back which we have lost. I agree with that. Hes not closing it to let the prisoners be released. Hes just establishing a whole new mission so that way they can make the process move like its supposed to be so that by the end of the year everybody should know whats going on and they should be able to get the place cleared. And that the legal process should be exactly what it should be.”

“I just don’t believe in torturing or hurting people or anything like that. That’s my faith. Prisons should be able to rehabilitate people and no they’re not doing that. They’re just leaving them there to sit and stew and think and come up with more ideas about what they can do once they get off.”

Of the meeting with the President she said, “I feel like at least we’re getting an answer. At least somebody is talking to us. Somebody is letting us know after 8 years, no you’re not forgotten…”

I’m not entirely sure how other victims’ families felt after the meeting with President Obama. The Clodfellers are just one of the nearly 40 who attended.