Tag Archives: opinion

Thinking of joining a startup, consider these points

If you are early in your career and considering working for an early-stage startup (or any stage startup), consider the following points sincerely.

You are not being hired to “learn things” unless learning means solving their problems. Many folks I interviewed seem to have a strange view of learning as if it is like Brownian process. You can learn the rest of your life and don’t accomplish much. Learning == solving problems is a healthy starting point. This view doesn’t conflict with industry interests. In other words, don’t expect to be paid for learning things; you are paid to get things done.

Before interviewing, learn about the product or problem a startup is building or solving. Your time there will revolve around that. Consider yourself extremely lucky if you get to work at things you love. But you must be ok to do things you don’t terribly like. You don’t have to “love it” to get it done properly. Be professional! Also, great jobs don’t grow on trees; you have to earn them!

If you don’t value equity, you don’t value the startup game! There are not many good reasons to work at a startup (fewer to start one). Equity and working in trenches at the frontline are the only good reasons I can think of. I feel that it is okay if you only care for “here and now” things such as cash in hand, as long as you don’t take more than you deliver.

Startups may have money, but most of them usually do. But they are always short on time. If you tend to procrastinate, do not go near a startup. Everything must have been done yesterday. Speed is a virtue. Please consider again if you are laid-back and don’t enjoy the rush. There will always be a rush, and deadlines may bring out the worst in people. And if you also have thin skin, you are in a hell of a pickle!

You may have to do a lot of work you were not hired for. No startup can anticipate your role there. You may have to become a generalist rather than a specialist. Startup hiring advice: prefer generalists over specialists.

Netflix got this right: Your workplace is, at best, your team, not a family. I won’t work with my family or friends since most will be terrible co-workers. Being part of a team means always pulling your weight and some more.

Don’t go to a cricket field if you only care about batting. Your team will be better off without you, no matter how great you are at swinging a bat. In a startup, you may never get to bat and perhaps spend most of your time curating the pitch, watering the ground, and managing the gymkhana. You join for the whole game, not just for batting or bowling.

Politics Of Resentment

The disintegration of the Congress party over the last few decades is well-deserved. Many factors have contributed to this disintegration, including corruption, indiscipline, and the sheer ineptitude and lethargy of its aging leadership. Fortunately for the Congress, the old eventually die. The condition of Congress seems to be improving lately. In particular, its leadership’s paralysis in the face of even the most trivial sorts of crises in interpersonal relations has been improving. The success of Congress in the 2023 assembly election in Karnataka has been ascribed to this which is welcome news for Indian democracy.

The BJP has done remarkably well in last few decades and most of its success is not because the Congress is weak. BJP even managed to resonate with people outside the Hindi heartland, especially in West Bengal and Karnataka. I found BJP’s success in West Bengal quite surprising. A state that was in the firm grip of the Left party’s culture for over 3 decades now votes for BJP in large numbers! The vote share of the BJP in Karnataka is also very impressive.

20 years ago, If I were to sum up the BJP’s political culture in a single phrase, it was ‘*Hindu bano, Hindi bolo’*. I first heard that phrase when I was in school from an RSS pracharak. Though they started this slogan in the aftermath of the Emergency. In the great Hindi-speaking region of the country, it has an immediate appeal for all political parties, but it is the BJP that can articulate the sentiment behind it most effectively. The Congress has a different past which it cannot shake off very easily.

If it were only a matter of Hindutva (*Hindu Bano)*, the BJP would be able to spread its influence without too much trouble. After all, more than 80 percent of Indians are Hindus, of one sort or another. What would be the problem in adding Shiv and Durga, or even the Pir Satyanarayan, to Ram? But persuading people to embrace Hindi may be more difficult than persuading them to remain Hindu. Most politicians of South India, including BJP, will be more at ease in a Hindu temple than at a political rally where all the slogans are in Hindi. And this may be true for the vast majority of Indians outside the Hindi heartland.

Whereas Hindus make up more than 80 percent of the population, Hindi speakers do not add up to more than 40 percent by even the most liberal estimate. This must surely be a source of anxiety to the leaders of a political party identified so closely not only with the Hindu religion but also with the Hindi language. Mr. Narendra Modi, a Gujarati, may have succeeded in taking the attention away from the Hindi chauvinists for the time being, but I don’t think he can [keep them under control for a very long time](https://www.outlookindia.com/national/stalin-flays-hindi-for-jobs-proposal-of-parliamentary-panel-news-230335). Will they not do something about it that will give their party a different direction and a different image? I believe that they can do very little. In the age of mass democracy, it is easier to alter a party’s political programme than to alter its political culture.

Secularists liked to frighten themselves with the thought that as soon as the BJP comes to power in New Delhi, it will start a massacre of the Muslims. That has not happened so far but some of their fears had been justified. BJP doesn’t seem to have either a radically different economic policy or a radically different foreign policy. What the BJP has succeeded in hitting the hardest — in addition to democratic institutes — is education where, apart from the opportunity to distribute patronage widely, there is the bonus for demanding the expulsion of English. ‘Angrezi hatao’ expresses [hostility not just to the English language](https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/oct/22/modi-employs-new-tool-in-indias-war-against-the-english-language-hindi-medical-degrees) but to a whole system and [method of education](https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-023-01750-2).

Fortunately, education is largely a state subject, so whether or not the BJP remains in power at the center, the damage will not be equally extensive everywhere. The principal targets of attack will be those things that stand for progress and modernity in education and culture. This will affect economic development only indirectly, and its adverse economic effects will not be visible in the short term. Those who feel threatened by liberal modern culture are by no means all averse to the material gains from improved technology and more profitable international trade. And they will continue to be no less hypocritic in the future as they are now.

The politics of BJP, above all, is a politics of resentment. In India today, there is resentment against a great many things, not just the Brahmins or even the upper castes. That has now become a general feature of Indian politics to the extent that the tone and language used at national or state level politics is hardly any different than the one used during local panchayat elections in my village. The language of politics in the country today is the language of resentment. This style and language have acquired a particular emphasis in the Hindi heartland because of its backwardness where it far more easier to mobilize the masses causing resentment. Here the BJP has a clear advantage, for its target of attack is not just Islam, but the modern world, including its secular intellectuals.

Attraction of Factions

There has been disagreement over what constitutes the basis of Indian society: caste or class. Both are very significant in our collective social life. However, a large part of our private lives is governed neither by caste nor class, but by factions. Factions are easily visible in the political domain, often forming around influential people in a political party. They are not limited to politics, but can be found in many other areas of our social life. Political scientists have paid attention to factions, but it doesn’t look like hat our sociologists have done significant empirical or theoretical work on them.

When not much data is available about a social process, people look to their own life experiences and common sense to understand the problem. Rural life — of which I have first hand experience — is simpler in terms of its organization. What matters most is personal relationships; rules are not as important. Since the community is small, this works well. People are able to take finer personal distinctions into account when interacting with each other. They turn to their relatives for both work and fun. In return, the family offers security to its members. I’m not saying that family and relatives always help each other, but they feel a strong moral duty to help and a moral right to ask for help.

Life in cities is different in scale and arrangement and is mediated by different kinds of institutions. The British introduced many new institutions into our country in the past, and, in our zeal for modernization, we have added some more since then. Whether we have the experience and ability to manage them or not, we cannot imagine our lives without them. Institutions in urbane India are supposed to work via impersonal rules and procedures. Still, it goes without saying that these rules do not count for much in most of our institutions. This is due to two main reasons: first, we did not have a tradition or “habit of hearts” which prefers “rules” over “people”, and second, the conditions do not exist in our institutions where such a tradition can grow and sustain a life of its own (See also Rule and Person).

If we are to analyze factions, we need to discard two widely held beliefs about them. First, that factions are essentially a by-product of peasant mentality, and their presence in white-collar professions or in the urban middle class is a traditional residue. And they are bound to disappear with more industrialization and modernization. Second, factions appeal to our baser nature and have little or no moral legitimacy whatsoever. If anything, I would argue that the appeal of factions is most intense in urban middle classes, and they are not without a moral legitimacy, whether or not we are willing to admit it in public. Perhaps the reason behind this is that we notice factions among others easily but fail to recognize them among ourselves.

We can learn a little more by looking at how an Indian in a village copes when he is confronted by a modern institute that supposedly runs according to impersonal rule. For a villager, a place where unknown people do work through impersonal rules is a scary place to be. Whenever he has to deal with such places – banks, police, hospital, etc. – the first thing he would inquire is whether he can find a person he can find some factional ties. If such a person does not exist, then the idiom of kinship needs to be extended. If a bank manager, doctor, or revenue officer happens to be from a different caste but from the same or nearby village, then the idiom of kinship is extended according to the village, even though everyone knows that kinship cannot exist between different castes.
On the other hand, if he is from a distant village or town, he will inquire about his caste and extends the idiom of kinship accordingly. It is this fluid nature of the idiom of kinship which enables villagers to find “connections” to get their work done in modern institutions. They must do it since they cannot be certain if their work will get done through written rules and procedures only. Also, factional ties appeal to them because it relieves them from the impersonal world of modern offices and brings them psychological relief by bringing them closer to their kinsmen — a sort of pseudo-family where an Indian feels truly secure.

The attraction of a faction (or a pseudo-kinship) is no less strong in our cities. The idiom of kinship is even more fluid among urban Indians. In colleges and universities, it can be extended to hostels, wings, batches, labs, and even to departments, not to mention academic lineage, if one has one worth mentioning. One can witness some of it during elections in IIT Bombay. Voting takes place on factional lines: wing, hostel, department, batch, etc. One notices many similarities here and voting based on “jati” in villages. In NCBS Bangalore, attendance patterns in journal club meetings depend largely on labs. Many attend the club meeting only when their own lab member is reading a paper. This pattern is often broken by the presence of faculty members, usually perceived to be authoritative figures on Indian university campuses.

The conditions and environment in which our institutions operate are both uncertain and malleable. In the face of uncertainty, people turn to their factions because there is nothing else to rely on. The rules won’t work or won’t work fast enough. The malleable nature of institutions offers vast opportunities to manipulate personal relations in factional ties. Once a pseudo-kinship is formed and acknowledged, one feels free to ask for some patronage or favor. It is remarkable how far people in positions of power in this country are willing to go to fulfill these requests for patronage. There is always some potential for material gain in all this, but one does it for the sheer satisfaction and social prestige it brings. In our society, a man in some position of power who does not offer patronage to his kinsmen is a man of no consequence.

The distribution of patronage among his kinsmen by a person in power has its own moral legitimacy in the traditional order. Nirmal Kumar Bose, the first generation of anthropologists, wrote about factional ties in the city of Calcutta; how city life was riddled with factions or ‘dal.’ These factions tried to outdo each other on public occasions with a lavish display of wealth. The wealth spent on these occasions was mostly private wealth. In recent times, the democratic processes in the country have made it possible, and to some extent even legitimized, to squander public wealth for factional displays of might and status.

The attraction of factions does not appear to be weaker, even in the most efficient sections of our society. It is remarkable that a person who appoints someone often feels that they now have a moral claim on the appointed one’s life-long loyalty. Perhaps the appointed one also feels that such a claim is morally justified, if somewhat uncalled for in the given institutional settings. What may appear to be a faction without any moral legitimacy to an outsider is, in fact, a humane arrangement of interdependence, loyalty, and security for its members.

The inefficiency in our institutions largely, if not solely, depends on the fact that the impersonal rules by which our institutions are mandated to govern themselves are either discounted or simply ignored. Discarding these institutions because they are now withering away in our tropical environment would not yield any gains. We need to rethink and appreciate the role of impersonal rules in modern institutional settings. Many of us with strong factional ties would agree publicly that impersonal rules must count for much in our institutions. However, not many of us are willing to give up the convenience of “cronyism” and “factionalism” that comes with it.

Many Indians seem to have realized the costs that some of our political institutions have to pay for accommodating families into them. However, it does not appear that we are too concerned about factionalism. In fact, many people are trying to paint a more humane face onto them [1]. If we are truly troubled by the sorry states in which we find our institutions today, we have to understand that factions (or pseudo kinships like IITians, Bengalis, Jats, Delhites, IASs etc.) – whatever advantages they bring to individuals – cannot have the same moral claim as real kinship. In the long run, factions are parasitic in nature, and a parasite cannot thrive unless it feeds on its host.

[1] Gurucharan Das and S Gurumurthy can be taken as two examples. One of them recently argued that, ”Instead of morally judging caste, I seek to understand its impact on competitiveness. I have come to believe that being endowed with commercial castes is a source of advantage in the global economy. Bania traders know how to accumulate and manage capital. They have financial resources and more important, financial acumen.”

Rule and Person

In the extent to which societies are governed by rule or person, in traditional societies based on agriculture, personal factors count for almost everything. People are able to take finer personal distinctions in their businesses and other day-to-day work. In these societies, personal links can be used (or misused) for practically any purpose; and a certain sense of security is provided by the existence of such links. Now there are whole areas of life in complex industrial societies where such links are in principle irrelevant.
In complex industrial societies, social life is influenced greatly if not mainly by institutions. Here institutions are organized around impersonal rules. The treatment in hospitals, admission to schools, and services from police and courts are a few examples of such arrangements. In these institutions, if someone needs something which one is entitled to, there should not be any need on his part to have any personal links with people in these institutes.

In Indian villages based on agriculture, people are accustomed to getting things done through persons rather than the rule. To say this is not necessarily to pass a moral judgment. When society is small and everyone knows everyone, such an arrangement is both proper and expedient. A lot of problems, related to both corruption and efficiency, can appear without any tangible solution when these links are used in places where norms are defined differently.

Those who live in large cities depend on many public utilities and services. And in principle, they are so organized to serve each citizen irrespective of personal considerations. There are rules of procedure according to which any citizen is entitled to make claim on a certain service. But in practice, nobody seriously believes in rules alone. In cases when rules do not work for him at all or do not work quickly enough, he tries to reach out to someone in the right quarters through relatives or friends, or friends of a relative. Those who have no relatives or friends (connections as they are called) felt left out in cold. But it is just amazing, how just almost everyone in our society is able to activate a connection of some consequence.

It should be obvious to all of us that we are in a period of transition. Though the majority of people still live in small agrarian societies, they are increasingly coming in contact with different sorts of institutions they are not accustomed to, where the personal connection should or ought to count for little. In such a phase of transition, people often suffer the worst of both systems: they can not be sure if personal ‘connections’ will be sufficient, nor they can trust the appropriate system of rules alone.

In cities, especially for young people, the moral universe associated with it is both confusing and intractable. This could cause a sort of psychological stress which is rarely seen in villages. When an old person (not only in rural India) pays a bribe or uses his family connections to get something done, he is not burdened by the morality of his actions. For him, such is the way of life — an ordinary and normal thing to do. He would give you a lecture about the “art of living” if you point out the impropriety on his part. Younger people, and perhaps some among old too, do not always pay bribes or use family/friendly connections for their personal gain at the cost of someone else without a sense of moral ambivalence and indignation. The “queue” is one such place where such behavior can be easily observed: when someone gets a cut from a friend or relative, he takes it, often with an embarrassing smile or a show of arrogance, but the same person turns self-righteous and morally indignant when he sees others taking “cut” at his disadvantage.

More than often rules are defined vaguely. It allows those who enforce them to use their personal discretion rather freely if not arbitrarily. Different rules or different interpretations of rules are often applied on a case-to-case basis. And many times rules are bypassed altogether. Many wonder how people in a country where a substantial population is still illiterate get things done in a system with a plethora of rules. In the face of confusion, people get accustomed to bypassing or breaking the rules, especially when a person of some consequence is available at their disposal. Those who are responsible for making rules simpler or less confusing rarely lose sleep over them. Perhaps they believe people are used to such situations and have ways to deal with them.

The problem of corruption or inefficiency can easily grow to alarming proportions in such an environment for it is easy for people in positions of power to manipulate the system for their own personal gain by colluding with others. One can always find someone in any office who has really mastered the art of manipulating rules and finding loopholes in them. Such people are seen with both envy and admiration.

No doubt that a system is bound to be efficient when rules and procedures are followed by most, if not all. The personal favors which we are so used to receiving and granting can not have the same moral right in modern institutions as in the traditional order. Moreover, a typical Indian overvalues his convenience above most things, and following rules always cost convenience. He would not mind doing his part in undermining rules as long as it is convenient to him. A large proportion of our people do not, or perhaps can not, appreciate what rules are for. But there are many among us who probably know what they are and why we need them. It is doubtful that over time as we progress more towards a more complex society, even they will develop a moral commitment towards them?

Academic Dishonesty

On Cheating, Ethics, and Academic Culture

I have been a teaching assistant at IIT Bombay since 2007. With one exception—a one-year stint in industry after completing my master’s degree—this has been a continuous association. I prefer programming- and lab-oriented courses. I also take a somewhat perverse interest in figuring out which student has copied an assignment. There have been many instances of cheating in these courses, and my intention here is to reflect on that phenomenon.

One of our professors, known for his bluntness in the classroom and widely regarded as extraordinarily hard-working (not just by local standards), once remarked that when someone cheats, he is essentially admitting his own incompetence. “Why would anyone cheat or import if he can do it himself?” he wondered. He went on to say that this applies not only to individuals but also to nations. This observation is true in its own context. I have known students who were technically weak yet did not cheat, and others who were sharp and technically sound but did not mind cheating when given half a chance.

During my M.Tech., I was close to a group of undergraduates. They were sharp and clever; one of them was perhaps brilliant. They were usually well-behaved, even in their private spaces, though their behavior during what they called “profile-reading” resembled that of a drunkard in my village during Holi. I remember visiting their hostel once and witnessing one of them call another “chutiya” while the rest looked on with amusement. It later emerged that during a lab examination, they had all been huddled in a corner cheating, and the so-called “chutiya” had refused to participate. An individual refusing to join a peer group in an activity he considers unethical is rare in our kind of society. It is also natural for a group to ridicule a member who does not take part in its activities, whether benign or evil. Still, one expects a group of students to be more tolerant of a so-called “black sheep.”

There is no doubt that cheating can be beneficial in the short run, and there are temptations—sometimes with seemingly valid reasons—to indulge in it. But we cannot ignore the fact that we live in a society that tolerates such dishonesty to a great extent. Individuals pursue their interests, not always consciously, but it is a mistake to believe that everyone pursues those interests at any cost, most of the time. What stands out here is the gall of this group in contemptuously ridiculing one of their own members for refusing to pursue benefits at the cost of his dignity.

How cheating is perceived and defined varies from individual to individual. What appears to be cheating to some may not look like cheating at all to others. Still, an academic community can define what constitutes unethical practice and can reasonably expect its members to honor that code. The best way to maintain such standards is through internal censure. When this internal censure weakens, dishonesty increases. Copy-and-paste practices in seminar reports submitted by our students are rampant and tolerated to a great extent. Last year, in a panel discussion titled “What Is Research?”, a professor remarked, “There have been cases of plagiarism in Ph.D. theses.” These cases were tolerated because they did not want to “appear on the front page of the Times of India.” This is odd: to admit, on one hand, that basic ethical standards cannot be maintained due to real or imagined fears, and on the other hand to demand greater autonomy.

Unless pointed out with great clarity, many students caught cheating do not like to see it as academic dishonesty—partly due to ignorance and partly to avoid the stigma of corruption. Who likes to see himself as morally crippled? Therefore, they devise ingenious arguments in their defense. I do not know many who support cheating in public without offering one reason or another. “Everyone does it” is one such argument they often give to their peers. It would not be hard to prove that not everyone, or even most people in this society, are cheaters. But proving a fact is one thing; being caught in a feeling is another. In a society where people constantly accuse one another of wrongdoing, it is not unnatural for individuals to believe that such behavior is the natural state of affairs.

I know at least one teaching assistant who made a case to the instructor—who was also her guide—in favor of such students. She argued that there is usually a “lack of time” to complete assignments and that it is therefore natural for students to “do what they have done.” I suspect there are many others with similar opinions. Her guide was not convinced, but he felt that punishment should not be very severe because “everyone in IIT does it.” There may be some element of truth in the insinuation that “all of them do it,” but I also suspect that the Indian mind is prone to comparing everything with the worst possible case.

Lack of time can hardly be an acceptable argument. That particular instructor had mentioned many times in class that if someone was having difficulty with assignments, he should approach him. Besides, why not submit a partial assignment? There is a very thin line between “discussing with friends” and cheating, and this line is often crossed. This need not be the case, but it is the usual experience. The “lack of time” argument for cheating is no more convincing than the argument academics often put forward for not honoring their teaching commitments—namely, that they spend too much time in meetings and committees (and, occasionally, in strikes). As far as students are concerned, this excuse sits oddly with my own experiences. These supposedly time-starved students spend an unusual amount of time being social butterflies. I do not recall many occasions when a hostel room was not either empty or occupied by more than one person chatting, watching movies, or engaging in loud and cheerful conversation. Doing individual assignments is a solitary activity, and spending time in solitude does not come naturally to an Indian who is extremely gregarious by nature.

Apart from the temptation to obtain as many marks as possible by fair or foul means, there is perhaps a conviction—consolidated by past experience and not entirely without reason—that they can get away with it, especially when they belong to a majority. This is perhaps why a cheater often begins his defense by saying, “Everyone does it,” attempting to draw strength from numbers. In a society where constitutional morality is weak and institutional foundations are fragile, the “rule of numbers” often prevails over the “rule of law.” As for the temptation to cheat, the promotion of brutal competition has its own costs: it can create a society that is callous and self-serving. In such a society, skills such as leadership, gardening, art, empathy, honesty, and the desire to help one another count for little (see The Rise of the Meritocracy by Michael Young).

Should universities or other institutions punish these errant members? There are arguments both for and against it. It is naïve to believe that those who cheat are merely “victims of the system” or acting solely due to a “lack of time.” They know what they are doing, and they know it well. They do it to reap rewards at the cost of their profession and their institution—and perhaps at the cost of their colleagues as well. Sympathy for the young aside, they are often tolerated by faculty because the faculty themselves once breathed the same air their students breathe now. Even if we accept that these students are acting under one illusion or another, there is a limit to what a university should tolerate. These students may not care about their own reputation and dignity, but when dirty linen is washed in public, it irreparably damages the reputation and dignity of the institution. There will then be demands for external censure, which will be hard to deny—even by those who strongly advocate academic autonomy.

An academic community must convince itself of the importance of strong internal censure. If it is inwardly convinced that this is not a serious issue, then such an institution is headed toward an unfortunate fate. Lack of competence may not force people to cheat, but those who cheat habitually are not only parasitic in character; they are often deeply incompetent. No institution can survive—let alone flourish—without a competent and dignified academic community that upholds even the most basic academic standards and ethics.


End Notes

  1. Prof. H. Narayanan on personal ethics.
  2. Stuyvesant Students Describe the How and the Why of Cheating, a news report, The New York Times, September 25, 2012.

Writing And Speaking

…For five years, I gave the shortlisted candidates for our M.Tech (IT) entrance a short second test. In one of the questions, I would ask them to write something in English about their family, then rewrite the same thing in their mother tongue or in any other Indian language they knew. Invariably, people who wrote bad English also wrote bad Hindi, bad Marathi, bad Telugu, etc. My belief, therefore, is that poor writing is a result of a lack of mental discipline to write properly. Also, it is language-independent. If you’re good in one language, it means you’ve disciplined your mind to write well and carefully. Then you usually imbibe that discipline when writing in another language. Inadequate preparation on the topic may be one aspect, but invariably, lack of discipline and training in writing is the problem.
— Prof. Deepak Pathak, CSE, IT Bombay, Raintree, Jan-Feb 2011

How terrible I am at writing! It occurred to me first when I had to write and submit my undergraduate project in college. I had no issue talking about it to anyone who cared to listen. But I found it very difficult to put it on paper. This bad writing I am concerned about here is not about spelling and grammar mistakes — this blog has an unhealthy number of them — but rather how I wove my thoughts together. The same feeling popped up once again when I sat down to write my M. Tech. thesis. After spending 3 years (and counting) as a teaching assistant and reading many reports and writing a few, I can say with much confidence that I am not the only one who lacks the ability to write well-structured prose.

Indians seem to be at much more ease with spoken rather than the written word. They speak eloquently and to a great length with evident pleasure but their writing is often hasty and careless. I am aware that there is a vast number of Indians who cannot put written words altogether. But many others have the capacity, and my purpose is to comment on how they use and misuse it. There are of course first-rate poets, writers, and columnists but my intention is not to comment on individual talent.

We just excel at the spoken words. Anyone who belongs to that large and very ill-defined category called ‘public intellectual’ can speak at any length and on any subject at hand. The curious fact about them is that the speakers hardly refer to any note or reference and often talk without much application of mind. Also, they do not like being interrupted or corrected while they are talking. I am not sure whether they feel the same way should anyone correct their writing.

Here, I wish to share an experience of Andre Beteille when he gave lectures at two premier universities each of which was chaired by the vice-chancellor of the university concerned. The first lecture was at the University of Cambridge where the VC was a distinguished medical scientist. He introduced him briefly and, after he finished his lecture, also thanked him briefly. As they were walking out, he told Beteille that he had greatly enjoyed his lecture. When Beteille remonstrated that he was merely being polite, he quietly took out the notes that he took during lectures which ran into three pages: he had come to the lecture to listen rather than to speak.  At another lecture in the Indian university, the vice-chancellor arrived thirty-five minutes late while the speaker and audience waited. Having arrived late, he embarked on a lengthy and eloquent speech on the challenges facing the country and the need for teachers and students to rise up to them. By the time he sat down and Beteille began his lectures on whose preparation he had spent more than a month, it became evident that the audience had lost interest in it. As to taking notes, no self-respecting vice-chancellor in India takes notes at a lecture given by a mere professor.

Back in my village where literacy level is well below the national average, educated people are called ‘padhe likhe log’ (people who can read and write). For them, the ability of speaking is not impressive since all of them can speak at any length. For villagers, and perhaps to many others as well, speaking counts for little unless it is in English. Indeed, there is a peculiar attitude towards the English language, especially among the urban middle class. The command over the English language, which is very unevenly distributed among them, is not only a very important intellectual asset but also a yardstick to measure one’s social status. An Indian takes perverse pleasure in correcting and improving others’ English by which she establishes not only intellectual but also social superiority over others.

Perhaps lack of reading also hinders the growth of writing skills. It is also interesting to note that libraries in India are not only hard to find; they are also the least used on a per capita basis. Unlike many Western countries, buying and reading books for entertainment and pleasure is not in our culture. Indians prefer to buy a book only if it serves some specific purpose and has a long shelf life. I am of the view that one can not go very far in developing ideas without reading good books or conversing with thoughtful people. It is much easier to access the former than the latter.

Many believe that this lack of writing ‘good’ prose is due to the use of foreign language. If there is a problem with language then why do they use it; or chose to write at such immoderate length when the language is forced onto them? It is only a part of the picture as the experience of Prof. Pathak shows. Perhaps the most important reason is the lack of care and patience which is hard to notice while one is speaking.  This same lack of measure and discipline shows itself vividly in a written discourse which can easily be found in our judicial and in academic prose. I often read in the news that Supreme Court judgments often run into thousands of pages. Mr. Nani Palkhiwala had once observed that this clearly shows the Indian preoccupation with eternity and infinity.

By their very nature, writing and reading are solitary activities. Speaking, on the other hand, is a way of being gregarious. The Indian is gregarious by nature. He finds it very hard to be alone unless he is a sanyasi or a poet. From childhood, he grows in the company of others: relatives of uncountable denominations. He is never allowed to be himself and made to believe that being himself is a way of being selfish and arrogant. And as he grows in status in society, so do his visitors in number and variety.

I find myself perplexed by the inordinate amount of time Indian academicians can spend in meetings. When do they get the time to think and work on their ideas? I do not have any experience of academic life in the West but it is easy to notice the difference. Just look at the amount of time they put into writing. It rarely happens that an Indian professor prepares notes to make them available on his home page or to circulate in the classroom. In the West, it seems to be a primary activity among academics. Their home pages are filled with notes, information, and tutorials even though similar material is available outside. That much of writing is not possible without spending a significant time in solitude. It is not to say that academicians in the West do not spend time in committees and meetings but they must be aware of the time they need to be by themselves. Successful Indian academics like to complain endlessly about the time they have to spend on committees and meetings, but their complaints need not be taken seriously. They cherish nothing more than being surrounded by people before whom they can hold forth; what they cannot bear is being themselves.

The ability to write good prose does not emanate entirely from intelligence or the facility with the language. Writing is a solitary art that requires patience and care and a certain kind of emotional investment. If a person spent so much in being gregarious, she can not put a concentrated effort into writing. Of course, there are masters of both spoken and written words. These individuals are outstanding and therefore are not confined by the circumstances but can rise above them.

In engineering colleges, in which I have first-hand experience, this lack of patience and care is evident in the code or design students submit for their assignments. These erroneous designs and buggy codes, and their carelessly written reports which say little about the design or the implementation is of little worth. But they are accepted and graded. What is troubling is that even the most technically sound student writes hastily and with little care for the reader. Often her writing does not match her technical abilities. Contrasting this with my experience on many online discussion forums mainly located in the west; I was amazed to read carefully written and extremely lucid answers provided by academicians to questions posed. In these online communities, they are very strict about the style of writing and community standards, and they protect them jealously. It would not strain one’s credulity to believe that there is some difference in general orientation between cultures towards this very important academic activity as Prof. Andre Beteille puts it, ‘some cultures tolerate careless, vacuous and disjointed writing while others discourage it.’

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