My Taxonomy of Academic Writing (in Economics)

I am currently reading a paper, firmly ensconced in the intersection of B, D and E (see below). Which motivated this.

A.      Vishal Bharadwaj cinema^*- Our microeconomics professor encourages students to write short answers in exams. He cites the example of Kenneth Arrow, who was notorious for his short papers (most of which, went on to span complete branches of economics). I haven’t read much of Arrow, but I have certainly read other economists who decide to infuse meaning into every word they construct. You blink. And you miss the most important plot point. These economists enjoy sneaking in a harmless looking line in the introduction, or worse, a footnote- the one line that holds the key to all the mind numbing (unsolved) differential equations that you are so impatient to get to, in later sections.

B.      Ekta Kapoor Soaps- These authors lie on the other extreme end of the continuum. They absolutely must give us a recap of every section of the paper at the end of the section, as well as at the beginning of the subsequent section. And in the introduction. And in the recommendations. And in the concluding remarks. You get the idea. (And then almost start missing the algebra).

C.      Farhan Akhtar/ Abbas-Mustan projects- While the Vishal Bharadwajs are theoretical economists (in the vanguard of academia), empirical economists (especially if you skip the methodology bits to power on to the results and discussion) are more accessible. That’s not to deny their capability of employing stunning gadgetry on the way to the climax. When done well, the results are sublime. When not…umm I trust you have seen Race.

D.      Rohit Shetty filums- unambitious and unpretentious. But (happily) not very taxing on the brain. These benign authors decide that they must make life easy for students, and spend most of their paper presenting a simplified version of the papers written by Exhibit A and C. Just as fancy cars hurtling in the air are a regular fixture in Shetty’s films, the penultimate section of these papers too must invariably involve critiquing the papers they discuss, and sometimes an extension.

E.       The ensemble film (in the tradition of Aaja Nachle, Chak de India)- Chak de India straddled regional chauvinism, national unity, religious persecution, sexism, the pathologies of Indian sport, all in a three hour narrative. The academic equivalents may not give such gripping results, but they do manage to flog a single mathematical model into providing amenable results on a variety of points the author wishes to prove. Sometimes this is not limited to a lone paper. Several careers have often hinged upon one model, one idea. Sometimes so much so that all the loving self referencing pushes it into Yashraj Films territory (who remind us at every chance they get, that Aditya Chopra made DDLJ).

^* Yes I compare academic papers to Bollywood films and Hindi television. Sue me.

My Favourite Textbook (as oxymoronic as that is)

In India after Gandhi, Ramachandra Guha (2007, p. 529), describes Indira Gandhi's behaviour during the Shah Commission's investigation of the excesses of the Emergency:

Three times she was called to the witness box; three times she came, and chose not to answer questions, claiming she was bound by the oath of Cabinet secrecy. A journalist victimsed during the emergency saw this as an 'outrageous attempt to make a mockery of the proceedings of the Commission'...

When I read this, the first image that came to my mind was one I had seen more than five years back in my NCERT Political Science Textbook for Class XII (2007 edition):

Cartoonist: R K Laxman for the Times of India
On Indira Gandhi's confrontation with the Shah Commission

I went back to the book, then realised what a glaring omission I had made in the list of books that defined growing up, for me. The book was simple, unbiased and liberal. But what made Pol Science my favourite subject, were the references to the relevant films of the time, the snippets from newspapers, and of course the cartoons. At worst these served as mnemonic devices. At best, they managed to place the textual information in context, also allowing students (at least me) to gain real perspective into current issues. If you don't believe my rambling, here is some visual evidence. These would make a better point (not to say a more entertaining blog post).

Cartoonist: Ajit Ninan for India Today
On the rise of coalition politics

Cartoonist; Sudhir Tailang for HT
On the V.P Singh Government being supported by the Left and the Right

R K Laxman for the Times of India
On the Emergency

Cartoonist: Kutty
On the manner in which State CMs were being chosen

Random Observations Aboard (and about) the Delhi Metro

1) The Metro signage is a sight for sore eyes to a woman in Delhi, especially at the end of a frantic, solitary walk through desolate roads on a dark, wintry evening.

2) Women can be vicious. And I am not just talking about the pushing and shoving to get inside and out. Last week I heard a middle aged woman call a college student besharam for holding hands with her boyfriend. The woman’s friend concurred. According to her boys can’t help fall in love. “Aur phir ladkiyan bolti hai rape ho gaya, rape ho gaya”.

3) People listening to music forget they are in a public place and start singing along. Loudly.

4) An advertisement in the Coach exhorts people to join the Navy- calling it a profession with honour. It also helpfully has a picture of a war zone, promising potential recruits a video-game like experience. Their words.

New Year Resolutions 2013

1) Blog more
2) Read more in general - fiction, non fiction, even newspapers!
3) Read less blogs, especially the ones about films

Travelpost: Lucknow

 To get a pre-paid auto at the Lucknow Railway station, passengers have to catch hold of an available auto, then coax the driver to take them to their desired destination. A man wearing a denim jacket and matching pants roams around brandishing a stick, performing the duties of the constabulary. There is no indication of him being there in official capacity. However, his prodding succeeds in convincing an autowallah, who we found after waiting for at least 20 minutes, to take us to our guesthouse in Aliganj.  

It is a thirty-minute ride, during which the auto stops four times. Twice to ask for directions, once for the driver to answer his mobile, and once for him to buy bananas that he eats while my parents worriedly ask around for directions. Never, at a traffic signal. There are none on the way. Vehicles seem to find a way out of the mess at the various intersections on their own, spewing out in all directions and on all sides. Apart from that, the ride is eventless.



The Guesthouse Campus



 

The guesthouse is situated within a residential complex for Government scientists. I have lived in one of those in Delhi, and all the memories make me smile. The campus is large and clean. I see no kids around though, a huge difference from the Delhi campus. The guesthouse is really a wing of the scientists’ hostel, with the rooms being more comfortably furnished than those of the latter. The caretaker is a mild mannered elderly man. I can almost hear the question mark in his voice after he tells us his own name. He informs us that there is no lunch available and that we should go to the restaurant nearby if we want any. My father grimaces at the signboard announcing the restaurant to be “100 per cent vegetarian”. We eat in silence.

We step out next morning for the usual round of sight-seeing. I am adamant that I want to see the city like a local. My dad agrees by refusing to book a cab. It wasn’t exactly what I meant, but I take it well since I enjoy using public transport. My mother grumbles. I do too, exactly half an hour later, when I realise that Lucknow has no legitimate public transport system. An exorbitantly priced auto ride later, we are at the gate of the Bada Imambada. Immediately touts surround us promising to show us the Imambada and other famous sights around the area in a horse pulled tonga for all of fifty rupees. We hop on.

Our first stop is the Chikan factory in the area. We realise we have been heckled, and that the tonga wala’s only aim is to earn a commission from the factory on our purchases. As a matter of principle, my parents refuse to buy anything from there. The tonga wala is all politeness even after the debacle, driving us to see the Chota imambada (the only one in the tonga wala’s itinerary). There is a clock tower on the way, whose photos I hastily click on my phone camera.



Clock Tower, Lucknow

At the Chota Imambada, we are met by a lone gatekeeper, who for thirty rupees also doubles up as the resident guide. My mother tells him how the people of Lucknow all seem to be very well spoken. Accordingly, he prattles off the history of the Shahi Hammam (the Royal Bath) in impeccable Urdu. We struggle to comprehend. The camera conks off and I worry about it, while he directs my parents to the royal lavatory and goes on to explain the mechanics of the 300 year old system. My mother is disgusted, my father impressed. The imambada itself houses a lot of chandeliers sourced from various parts of the world. We look around for some time before our tonga wala comes in to tell us it’s time. He drops us off at the gate of the Bada Imambada, with the directions to get a Government approved guide inside. I am famished and refuse to see anymore.



Shahi Hamam, Chota Imambada Complex

We go to Hazratganj, the posh market in Lucknow. It reminds us of C.P, only dirtier. Even when compared to the mess C.P currently is in. There is no room to complain about the food though. It is every bit as good as we had heard. We eat in silence again. A more satisfied silence than before.

Dad books a car for the next morning. The driver calls us half an hour after we are scheduled to leave, to tell us he is late. We cancel the booking and resignedly hail another overcharging auto to make our way to the Bada Imambada. The hecklers of the previous day recognise us and keep their distance.



Gateway to the Bada Imambada



The government-approved guide ignores the chart enumerating the government-approved guide rates. We point it out. He hastily revises the prices he quoted. Then hurries us through the Imambada building when we agree. He cackles impatiently as I stop to click photos. He tells us that the Imambada was built by Nawab Asaf-ud-Daula as a project to generate employment for the poor during drought years. They would build during the day, and the Nawab would order his men to break the structures down by night. This went on for 11 years before the Nawab stopped his night-time destruction. It took another 11 years to build the structure.



Bada Imambada


The famous Bhool Bhulaiya (the Labyrinth) stands next to the Imambada building. It has 1024 ways, out of which only one is correct. Some of the routes can take you to Agra, Faizabad and as far as Delhi. Inside, the guide makes us stand with our ears pressed to the wall. He goes further down the corridor and softly says our name, his mouth facing the wall. We can hear him clearly. The guide puns about  “deewaro ke bhi kaan hote hain”. The saying might have originated there, I couldn’t tell you for sure. The view from the terrace is beautiful. The guide can’t tell us the names of some of the ruins I point out. And he seems too disinterested to cook up anything. I have to be satisfied by clicking photos.


Unnamed Ruin, as seen from the terrace of the Bhool Bhulaiya


We have a late lunch at the famous Chowk area, but not before being heckled some more. The restaurant owner suggests we hurry if we want to see the Residency. We obey. The residency is a group of ruins that housed the British General during his stay at Lucknow. The museum has interesting artefacts, including shards of porcelain vessels that were excavated as early as 2000. I want to explore some more, but it is nearly closing time and the guards hover nearby, discouraging anyone from looking too carefully. There are a few portraits of the Nawabs, but I don’t bother with those. I click pictures of some of the ruins. Each proclaims itself to have been of consequence during its glory days. Either a doctor’s residence or a begum’s quarters. I do not bother with those plaques either.


Ruins in the Residency Complex



Ruins in the Residency Complex



The next afternoon, on board the Shatabdi Express, my mother rues that there was no time to see the newer parts of Lucknow, the parks that are the ex Chief Minister’s legacy. She promises to go there the next time we visit. The train pulls out of the station.


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





Case Study: What not to do in an Interview

The placement cell of my college recently organised an interview skills building workshop. Since I am so woefully short on those (which apparently does not deter me from keeping the title of the post, what it is), I shelled out the requisite 500 bucks and sacrificed a richly deserved weekend in order to enable myself to take a stab at employability.

 

The most important part of the workshop was a mock interview, to be recorded, and then shown to the participant, in order to analyse it, and to the point out the shortcomings in the interviewee. One would think, this could hardly be a problem to a veteran of (unsuccessful) interviews. But I seem to have become adept at failing to match even my own low standards.

The first question: ‘Tell me something about yourself.’

I inwardly smirked at the quality of the question. And suddenly lost interest.

“I am a graduate in economics, now pursuing my masters”, I replied. The interviewer waited for me to dazzle him with something interesting.

“I like reading...and enjoy writing too”, I continued, this time in an all American drawl.

The interviewer then asked me why I wanted to join the company I was interviewing for.  My precise words were, ‘I am not sure’. Then I flashed him a smile to make him forget what I had said. Instead, he stiffened and asked me what qualities I thought were important for the job profile in question. I gave generic responses like problem solving abilities, and an analytical bent of mind. He paraphrased his question. I gave the same answer using similar words. He repeated himself. An impatient look crossed my face (I know, since I saw the video). I pointed out that I had just answered the question twice already. He asked me if I had read the job profile. I said I had. Then gave a nervous smile that assured him that I had not.

 Perhaps that was the moment I realised things were not going well.  So instead of pulling up my socks to answer the subsequent  questions better, I just let things tumble downhill.

‘What are your strengths?’

‘I am very hard-working’. Followed with a shifty smile.

‘What do you consider to be your weakness?’

‘Ummm...at times I tend to get obsessive about things I like’

Disconcerted, he steered the interview to less creepy waters.

‘What’s your dream job?’

Thoughtful stare into the distance.

“I haven’t figured that out yet”.

He decided he had had enough of me.

“Okay, do you have any questions I can answer?” he asked out of politeness, or habit.

“Yeah how easy it is to move within the company?”

If I had unknowingly given him any indication of my stability and loyalty to the job, that question removed all doubt.

Later during the (public) analysis of the video, my trainer asked me to point out five good and five bad things about the interview. I looked at him incredulously; waved my hands to show that I couldn’t. He sighed at my incompetence. Then said something to the effect that I was high on confidence, in spite of the terrible answers.  I nodded humbly. And kept quiet about his inability to list out the four others.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last week I came across a list of books that a certain publishing house believed, were THE books to read while growing up. I disagreed with most of their choices. So here I list some of my own. These (listed in the order in which I first read them) aren't necessarily the most profound, or even my favourite. But they did define growing up for me.

1) Enid Blyton's school stories (Malory Towers and Saint Claire's)-Nobody discusses Enid Blyton anymore, unless it's with reference to the sexist-racist ideology that she seemed to peddle through her
books. I do not disagree with that evaluation, and it's important to recognise those themes. But the positive messages that she DID talk about, about friendship and loyalty and self belief, about
having values and sticking to them, and being proud of who you were, are also unfortunately sidelined when we do discuss those things, even though these are the messages that stay. This may be
because the books were never preachy-it was always the story and the clever plotting that helped you figure out the moral of the story. The girls were real, multidimensional people with interests and
ambitions: Irene with her love for math and music, Darell with her lacrosse, and Wilhelmina for horses. And they were fun too- playing truant, having midnight feasts, and being throroughly ingenuous when playing practical jokes on their unsuspecting French teacher. 

2) Hardy Boys Case Files- The reason I read the original mysteries at all was because my local library stocked up heavily on these blue hard-bound books, and little else. There were too many
characters - all weak, the mysteries were unimaginative, and most of the cases were solved only because the criminals had an amazing proclivity to advertise their existence to the boys.
And my takeway from those books? Well, American teenagers drove around in their fancy convertibles and ate a lot of junk food.
The case files were different however. For one, they were plotted better. But more importantly, they were my first brush with grown-up themes (albeit handled in American pot-boiler fashion) of death,
bereavement and revenge.

3) The Harry Potter series- I can't possibly say anything about these books that hasn't been said before, and better. But it's easily, even some ten-twelve years after I first read it, my favourite one. Harry, Ron and Hermione are not characters in a book any more, they are old friends I turn to whenever I feel down and out. And they never fail to cheer me up.

4) English, August- The first time I read this, I was in eleventh standard. I hated it then. Agastya, the titular character was an aimless, rambling pervert. I saw him as disinterested and lazy, quitting something, others would prize. And only because he was bored. I am not more mature now (I still get off walking through puddles, as a friend pointed out recently), but re-reading this three months ago, I realised that there never had been a fictional character before, who resonated as much. The book is also deviously funny but I think I liked it so much this time was because it reassured me that it didn't matter if I had reached a certain age, I could still take my time to grow up.