Last Year’s Bounty

One of the many things about life I am grateful for is the spectacular number of bibliophile friends who recommend, gift and write books.

The first book I read in 2022 was in Bangla. “Gandhareer Deshe” (In the land of Gandhar, modern day Afghanistan) authored by Ramesh Chandra Chanda was recommended by Prof. Rupa Chanda, his daughter, a reputed economist at the United Nations (UN) ESCAP. The author had spent the years 1977-1980 in Kabul before the Russian occupation. A statistician by training, he was part of a UN team that was stationed in Kabul to conduct the first ever population census of Afghanistan. The book is a remarkable first hand account of his experiences in a new country, so close to India in many ways and yet so far. He has deftly combined his readings and interpretation of the history of the people and land that constituted Gandhar with his own observations about lives of Afghani people he had the chance to interact with, the challenges associated with counting people in a country with a harsh and diverse landscape and communities with limited resources, the pleasure and educative value of collaborating with experts from across the world while working at the UN and life with his young family in a very unique social setting. It was in this book that I read about battle tanks rolling down the main street in the neighbourhood of someone I have actually met.

Hasiru (green in Kannada language) Harini I call her, my one and only farmer friend, Harini Srinivasan, exceptionally innovative in almost anything she undertakes from preparing her soil, choosing her seeds, to growing, harvesting, distributing, cooking or using her produce. She is also a talented writer and story teller. I had the joy of reading one of her unpublished whodunnits last year. “Leopard’s Paw” was particularly interesting to me because it brought together familiar intrigues that result from envy and competition in a familiar setting of research and development. Tantalizing and engaging as the plot developed and thickened to the climax. It’s a pity that the book remains unpublished and inaccessible to myriad others who would find it as unputdownable as I did.

Rishi had pointed me to “Healing the Pharmacy of the World” by K.L. Sharma, formerly Joint Secretary, Drug and Food Regulation, Government of India. I was drawn to the book following my experience with the immense effort and uncertain time it takes to initiate a study to test the clinical feasibility of any newly proposed ultrasound based method for screening even when there is no modification made to the signal that is transmitted into the body. The book was instructive; it provided the historical backdrop and the recent modifications to the regulatory framework for pharmaceutical products and medical devices in India. Development of bulk drugs at low costs for sale both within India and for export to other countries where people need affordable medicines cannot be arrived at by compromising on processes that ensure quality and reliability. There is also a view that standards of the developed world may be too stringent. The author’s moot point is that the conflict between the federal (states) and central government on ownership of regulatory processes persist. While there is a high-level effort at simultaneously addressing the regulatory requirements, profitability and sustainability of Indian pharmaceutical companies, there continues to be lack of attention to detail. Staffing, training manpower, specifics of inspection, and financial resources needed to make the processes more effective and efficient remain areas of concern.

It was Harini once again who had sent me the link to register for an event organized by the Environment Support Group (ESG), Westland Books, People’s Union of Civil Liberties (PUCL) and Manthan Law on the occasion of the 73^rd Republic Day of India. It was a conversation on “the widely shared concern that India is in a state of Undeclared Emergency” between Arvind Narrain, author of “India’s Undeclared Emergency: Constitutionalism and the Politics of Resistance”, the noted historian Ramachandra Guha, social activist Madhu Bhushan, and Prof. Babu Mathew of the National Law School (NLSIU), Bangalore. I felt sad for my country where a dominant strain of majoritarianism appears to be both exclusionist and stifling.  I bought a Kindle version of the book soon afterwards but got to read it only later in the year. I found the point by point comparison of several instances from the present times with episodes or decisions taken during the declared emergency of 1975-77 instructive. As an ordinary Indian, the last section on what one could do to change things for the better gave me hope. The author’s style combined a scholarly approach with a jargon-free language (for someone like me not trained in Law) and drilled straight into my head the fact that many of our laws such as the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA) have colonial origins. It is unfortunate that over the last 75 years of our existence as a free and by virtue of our constitution a parliamentary democracy, successive governments have justified, interpreted and amended those archaic laws to strengthen and perpetuate their own position.

I first read about “Overstory” by Richard Powers in the New York Times. It was mentioned in an article titled “The Social Life of Forests” by Ferris Jabr that my friend and ex-colleague Shriram had shared with me in 2020. I had been fascinated by what Suzanne Simard’s research had shown about how trees in a forest are interconnected, interdependent and in communication with each other. I was curious to read the Pulitzer prize winning fiction that had been inspired by her findings. Overstory is a layered novel. It also has several strands consisting of characters each of who have something distinctive about their upbringing. One or more life changing experience draws them to trees and brings them together to fight a battle to save forests from loggers. I found Overstory as a novel to be over-crafted. Overstory is more of a message. When I come across a clump of trees now, the sense of there is so much more than what I can see is almost instantaneous.

One evening in early September last year, Rishi and I attended a discussion on “Reflections on Our Nation – Quo Vadis” at the Bangalore International Centre. The speakers were Captain G. R. Gopinath, whose book “Our India” was being launched at the event, Gopalkrishna Gandhi and Uma Mahadevan Dasgupta. S. Raghotham of Deccan Herald moderated the conversation. Gopalkrishna Gandhi spoke with wisdom and eloquence. Captain Gopinath read out few of his essays from the collection that had published earlier as newspaper articles. What struck me was his liveliness, wit and optimism. After the event ended, I bought his book and had the pleasure of having it signed by him. Life as a young boy, as a farmer, as an entrepreneur –  experiences from each of them written simply and straight from the heart. Since his articles are rarely published in The Hindu, my regular newspaper, I had not read any them earlier. They provided insight into the mind of an unusual mix of an idealist and a pragmatist. I would recommend “Our India” to anyone who is at the crossroad of whether to live and work in India or to emigrate.

K. R. Usha, writer, editor and friend gifted me a copy of “Desperately seeking Shah Rukh” by Shrayana Bhattacharya, a Development Economist. This very well written and interesting book of contemporary societal relevance borne out of field research and detailed interviews has been discussed and reviewed quite extensively. Shrayana tells the story of challenges faced by a representative set of women from urban, semi-urban and rural India who wish to chart their own course, work, earn a living and have a degree of independence. Which battles they do they choose to fight, where do they draw their line. The common thread that binds all of them is their hero worship for the Bollywood star Shah Rukh Khan. They track him on and off the screen, soak up what he has to say about life, love, work and humanity; they find in him a virtual friend, philosopher and guide. They look for him in the men they meet and contemplate a long-term relationship with or with their husbands and are almost always disappointed because such men do not seem to exist in real life; his qualities seem illusory. While I cannot relate to the fascination for Shah Rukh Khan, the book validates two of my observations about our society. Most Indian men are patriarchal within, though it is cloaked with political correctness amongst the urban, educated, professional class. However, within the familial situation, it translates into expectations on role and behaviour. More and more Indian women think they can have it all – well-paying jobs, spend money as they please, mobility, a loving and indulgent boy-friend or husband and eventually a family, children and support systems.

Satvika Bharadwaj, my friend and colleague in a project and paper we worked together gifted me three books as she made her way to the United States to pursue her doctoral studies. One of these was “Infinite Powers – The Story of Calculus” by Steven Strogatz, a Professor of applied mathematics at the Cornell University. A book written with the love for and wonderment of science and math underscores how knowledge systems evolve with elegant examples that the readers can delve into as they progress through the pages. The author is evidently a gifted writer of popular science. Several of his videos are available online.

“A Man called Ove” written by Fredrik Backman in Swedish and translated into English by Henning Koch was Satvika’s second pick. I started to read it at the end of December. If I needed something to restore my spirits in the aftermath of watching my mother’s distress after a fall, pelvic fracture and surgery, it was this story. Written with simplicity and warmth, how Ove came to be the way he was, a perfectionist, minimalist, introvert and earnest, his life with his loving wife Sonja, the difficulties he has in coming to terms with her death, the transformative power of affection of those around him and ultimately finding purpose and joy in being part of a community. A rare book for the present times; not too many authors write like this anymore.