Wake-up call for Indians

One of the real revelations of internet has been this website http://www.indiatogether.org
A website which brings stories that makes you numb, and wonders how insensitive we have become to our society.
Curiosity made me wonder, who runs this website and i found this article. Story of ASHWIN MAHESH and SUBRAMANIAM VINCENT who could have joined the club of Desis lost in America.

This article was published in 2000 on http://www.rediff.com/us/2000/apr/20us1.htm

By Shanthi Shankarkumar

Why are Indians living in the United States indifferent to problems in India? With the money and resources they have at their disposal why don't they care as much as they should? These were some questions that two PhDs, Ashwin Mahesh from University of Washington and Subramaniam Vincent from University of Southern California, brainstormed a few years ago.

To address these questions, they thought up a web site, www.indiatogether.org, intended to be a wake-up call for all Indians living in the US. And soon their team was bolstered by the inclusion of one more individual with great ideas, Ram Narayanan

"Most people would care about things if they knew about them. Then, there is a possibility that they will act after knowing," said Mahesh.

The site, with the slogan "We know and we care", carries articles and editorials on various Indian issues. On the site right now are articles on the Narmada project ('A solution to the Narmada imbroglio'), and an online petition to seek US congressional action in bringing action in the long delayed Bhopal case and other issues of concern.

By highlighting the work of non-profit organizations in India and the US, the web site hopes to induce the average Indian living here to care and maybe even take it a step further and do something about the problems back home.

There is a resource exchange called 'Give and Take' where people can donate their skills, resources like used computers, medicines, expertise, fundraising ideas, books, money etc. Specific skills for a developmental organization can also be offered in the form of writing newsletters, creating and maintain a web page, etc.,. The section also offers visitors a chance to visit a project site on their next trip to India.

"On a Macroscopic level Indians are aware of the problems in India but they don't know how they can participate in individual problems. When we write a story we include ways the reader can participate. He or she can either sign a petition or forward money," said Mahesh.

Mahesh has degrees in business, astronomy and geophysics. He came to this country in 1991 to study astronomy and did his PhD in geophysics at the University of Washington. He now works for a science company that works for NASA in Hampton, Michigan and writes a column for rediff.com. Subramaniam Vincent works in Freemont, California.

"The response is growing and is continuing to grow fast. When we started, we'd be lucky to get 20 hits a day. Now we're close to 50,000 hits a day. We have a newsletter, which we send to people and, the great thing is, people voluntarily subscribe to it. At the moment we have about 5,000 people who read our site regularly. We do about four stories a month. Not all these are stories, some are editorials.

In the beginning we had to approach people and organizations and say we'd be doing a story on them for free now we're reaching a point where people are asking us to write about them...

"I am interested in seeing if an organization whose primary purpose is social responsibility can function as a viable media organization

He admits the Indian community is rather apathetic to India's problems.

"Most people in this country lead fairly individualized lives. I don't subscribe to the notion of Indian community. There are a lot of people who have shared interests in India. My friends and I have shared interests in astronomy. Does that mean we belong to the astronomy community? Or an Indian community? There is significant overlapping... We're doing this because these are decent things to do, not because they are Indian things -- the fact that they're Indian makes it easier for me to identify with them.

"We also participate in community activities here, not as Indians but as members of the community in large. People are always naturally inclined to buy into the ideas of a community without thinking of their individual responsibilities. Here is where I belong because I was born here and here is where I belong because I live here. One thing I don't want to be is an Indian living in America who is confined by a cycle of "Indianess" within which my life is expressed. If I happen to live in India that would be natural, but I happen to live here now so there must be something beneficial that I gain from exposure to a different life. There is no reason to look away. There are a lot of civil rights groups, liberal groups and charitable groups -- they are interesting to me because they are ideologically similar to us."

He says he hopes to build a broad platform and help people do things for India. People could either send out a petition or a letter to a local newspaper on some Indian issue, send money to an organization doing good work in India or offer technical skills, computers books etc.

"We're not asking for people to leave their American interests or to be primarily Indian," he says. "It is very healthy for people to maintain their responsibilities and rights that they derive from their particular citizenship.

Mahesh says they don't usually take advertisements, though they have put up three ads for non-profit groups on the front page.

The advantage, he says, is that one can get to many people on the Internet at a very low cost.

"Web hosting service costs $ 25 a month, domain registration $ 50-70 a year. For a total cost of $ 300-400 we can run the site.

"We both have jobs and can afford to run it. So far we've paid for it ourselves. Money is not the issue. We even spent money to block domain names, so we didn't have to deal with it in the future. One of the drawbacks we have is that both of us don't have any programming experience, at least no HTML or Java. We've had to teach ourselves everything."

One problem is time. Both Mahesh and Subramaniam spend three-eight hours week to keep the site going. And they realise that soon they have to plan for more server space, bandwidth etc. And that could raise the cost.

"We are thinking of a specific indiatogether fund, which would support the organization on the lines of PBS (Public Broadcasting Service). We want to move from primarily an awareness campaign to a media organization on public affairs," says Mahesh.

He cites the case of a story the site carried on beach-cleaning in Madras some years ago which prompted several organizations from other parts of India to inquire how they could do the same thing in their communities.

"Subbu and I are both believers in "incrementalism". We're not trying to make things better 100 per cent. We know how to get to 22 per cent and we're now trying to reach 23 per cent! We think of the little things we can do."

He speaks the interesting section on the indiatogether site, Give and Take, in which people can donate computers, books, technical skills etc.

"Typically, there are more offers to help than people asking for things, which is interesting. So far we've not done too much of a job in getting to people who actually need the help. What we need to do to make it effective is to get somebody who understands how to maintain databases on the Internet. Our management of it is pretty rudimentary. It'll be nice if we could get groups in India to look at this portion of our site. We're trying to do an e-bay for non-profit organizations, where you trade your services and things for free, in some sort of a clearinghouse for compassionate action," he says.

The most popular feature, he says, is the one called 'Lobby for India Online Resource for Indian Americans'.

Run by Ram Narayanan, a former marketing consultant and bank executive, the site's primary objective is to provide easy access to information on current news and issues relevant to India-US relations. The section is updated two or three times a week compared to the other areas, which are changed about once every week.

Using the section, Indians residing in any of the 435 Congressional Districts can track how their senators and congressman have voted on India-related issues. They can also e-mail their legislators or send a letter to the editor to their local newspaper on issues of importance to US-India relations.

Narayanan, 64, is a US citizen of Indian origin who has always been interested in India's foreign policy. He is particularly keen in furthering India-US co-operation in all fields. He has a master's degree and a gold medal in economics from Loyola College, Madras. He was also a Ford Foundation Scholar who pursued a program on the methodology of applied economic research. Narayanan, who worked in the Indian Overseas Bank in India, came 15 years ago, to the US.

The widower met and married an American, Loral Alberta.

"I got stuck here," he laughs. The couple runs a marketing consulting firm named after his mother, Janaky International Corporation.

In early June 1999, during the Kargil Crisis, after meeting Ashwin Mahesh, he began hosting and co-ordinating the Lobby... By September, the site needed all his time and energy and so he retired from his marketing consultant business. His wife continues to run their firm.

"When Kargil started we felt tremendously betrayed," he says. "The PM of India had started a process of reconciliation. We knew that things were not easy, but we were hopeful that over a period of time, relations would improve and there wouldn't be a warlike atmosphere. But then the betrayal of the Lahore process shook up most People of Indian origin here. My wife and I both thought we need a resource in the US, which will equip the ordinary Indian-American with all the information that he needs on India-American relations.

"There was a strong opinion against Pakistan in the House of Representatives, but there was also a lot of ignorance so we started with a readymade letter on the site which could be readily used by Indian-Americans when they wrote to their representatives."

Now, he says, 3,600 readers are on indiatogether's 'Action Alert' list, a number he hopes to hike to 25,000-30,000 by next year. He says the idea is to make it easy for PIOs in any part of the US to write to his or her congressman. Besides, the section provides information on what is happening on the India-American front.

"When anything that comes up in Congress or the House of Representative requires action on the part of the PIOs, I immediately issue an Action alert. During the Kargil Crisis quite a number wrote to their congressmen and newspapers. One of the earliest Action Alerts we issued was on Pakistan being declared a terrorist state.

He says the site does not intend to be anti-Pakistani just because it took a stand against it during the Kargil crisis. He intends to change the content to address specific India-American issues, particularly economic issues, environment and technology. He says that the Fortune 500 and other big companies influence thinking on India but he hopes to draw smaller American companies to India. In fact, he is for anything that promotes India-US friendship and economic co-operation.

"Right now we are thinking about what should be the post-Clinton follow up action. We want to get more and more congressmen on India's side and we've been very successful in that direction. US interest in foreign affairs is not very high, except maybe the Middle East because of the Israeli factor. But by writing to them regularly and calling them, the IPOs have been able to create a base, some knowledge about India.

"For instance, we had a big role in the resolution that was passed by 394 votes against four, after India's elections supporting and welcoming India's democratically-elected government.

"When James Rueben the spokesman for the State Department came almost totally in support of India on the Kashmir issue at one time, we asked our Action Alert members to call his office and thank him. They were all surprised and overwhelmed by the show of gratitude.

"We are not spokesmen for India or America. We look for areas of commonness and agreement and bring that to the notice of our readers," he says.

He admits Indians, because of their differences over caste, religion, and community, are fragmented.

"No two Indian Americans ever agree on anything. India is the only country where even a monolithic party like the Communist Party is split into so many parties.

"The Israelis have a powerful lobby of 60,000 from a population of 6 million. The Israeli-American Public Affairs Committee has done a great job in building public opinion for Israel. They are so powerful; no congressman will cross swords with them.

"Indians are very individualistic but this should not stand in our way. We are issue-based, not organization-based. We are trying to bring everybody together on issues.

How to Retire at 34

As with their finances, so with their lives--the Ramanathans give the ‘high-risk, high-return’ philosophy a new definition.
Archana Rai	page 1 of 1
HALF A million dollars is what they set out to earn, as they winged their way to the US in the late eighties. To 24-year-old Swati and Ramesh Ramanathan, that had seemed a good sum to return home with. A garage sale of all their worldly possessions had fetched Rs 3 lakh, they had mustered an educational loan of another Rs 3 lakh to fund Ramesh’s goal of a Yale MBA, and they were off. The couple’s decision to upend a promising life in Bangalore and take on debt to chase the American dream was roundly deemed foolhardy by family and friends. The sense of disbelief at their departure, however, was nothing compared to what greeted the couple a decade later when they actually returned home. As managing director of Citibank’s Equity Derivatives Business in Europe, Ramesh was among Citi’s top 150 executives, tipped as potential CEO material. Their personal fortune by then was "many multiples of half a million dollars." Swati’s Masters in design from Brooklyn’s Pratt Institute had found her jobs at Fortune 500 design firms. Daughter Shunori was six and son Rishab all of two. At this point, the Ramanathans decided it was time to give up their jobs, retire and head back home. When he took this decision, Ramesh was 34; and it was the third time in his life that he was veering away from a scripted success story to rewrite the plot. "I grew up in a middle-class home–financial security is extremely important to me–but equally important is intellectual honesty; I need to believe in what I am doing," he says. And if that has meant plunging into decisions that put everything achieved thus far at risk, the Ramanathans have never hesitated. The first right turn The tough decisions started early. The couple met in Bangalore when they were 18. Ramesh enrolled for a Masters in Physics and Computers at BITS Pilani, while Swati convinced her conservative Gujarati family to allow her to train in design at NID, Ahmedabad. Determined to marry in the face of stiff parental opposition, Ramesh decided to drop out of BITS in his fourth year so he could start earning. Says Ramesh: "My mother was devastated but my father backed me and allowed me to start working with him in his machinery-handling business." It was his first brush with the real world of smokestack industries and grimy shop floors. He quickly learnt the ropes well enough to enter into a profit-sharing arrangement with his father. His first earnings of Rs 3,000 went to Swati, who promptly opened a bank account. After a year, and now married, Ramesh had learnt enough to launch his own business trading in specialty steel, while Swati started off an interior design firm. The 20-something couple was soon earning close to Rs 30,000 a month. A rented apartment in downtown Bangalore, a car and Rs 1.2 lakh invested in a piece of real estate, the couple was well on its way to yuppiedom. Already, the real estate investment is clear evidence that, unlike an average couple that would have put its money into savings accounts or a mutual fund, Ramanathan was ready to tread deep waters. Spiritually, however, the couple felt stagnated. Says Swati: "We were making money but intellectually we were vegetating." They wanted a change. To throw away an established life and start afresh in the US took courage. But that’s something the Ramanathans had in plenty. With his sights, as usual, set high, Ramesh would choose Ivy League. They decided to take on a loan but get the best degree from the best college. Again, a glimpse of that ability to up the stakes. The two of them reached Yale with just enough for Ramesh’s first year’s tuition. Swati waited tables and ran the college cafeteria to make ends meet. They hoarded discount coupons and wondered if their budget would stretch to include cauliflower for dinner. When Ramesh landed a six-week summer internship at Citi that paid him $1,200 a week, it was the first vindication that throwing up a flourishing career back home had been the right choice. A university loan completed the second year and, as Swati says: "The second year was wonderful–we knew he would get a placement at Citi." On the fast track. A starting salary of $65,000 as management associate and a sign-on bonus of $20,000 launched the Ramanathans on a halcyon stint in the world of international finance. But Ramesh soon realised that the salary was incidental: "The real money in international banking is in the bonuses; the more profit you generate for the bank, the more you earn as bonus." Not a gambit the punter Ramesh would easily pass. In two years, drawing on Citi’s proven strength in derivatives, Ramesh created a derivatives product with a basket of multimedia stock for the retail market. However, all he got out of it was a fat bonus; somebody else got to run the business. Undeterred, he put together another derivatives product aimed at corporate clients. This time, he insisted he would run the business. The gamble paid off, and in two years, he had built a $50 million business from scratch. Four and a half years after joining Citi, Ramesh had moved into the high-powered orbit of the bank’s boardrooms. Meanwhile, Swati was working with top-notch design companies. Ramesh’s investment antennae were meanwhile twitching sharply. He chose equity, and put money into Nokia, EMC and other less-known stocks with high performing potential. Nokia, a Finnish forest produce company, that was flirting with telecom, was one of his first buys. Listed in Europe, it was first noticed by the Fidelity Magellan Fund. Ramesh put in around $20,000 in the stock and stayed invested even as Fidelity cashed out. The faith paid off when Nokia became a byword for mobile telephony. EMC, the computer hardware maker, turned out to be another winning buy. By the time he moved to London as head of Citi’s equity derivatives business in Europe, his personal portfolio, fuelled by his spectacular bonus earnings and a very high appetite for risk, had a compounded annual growth rate of 40-50 per cent. High-flying careers, jet-setting lifestyle, and more money than they had ever set out to earn. Nearing the summit, you’d say. Turn right back For the Ramanathans, though, the lure of India was a constant note in the background. In fact, they would not buy real estate in the US because that would have been tantamount to putting down roots there. Returning was always the background motif. When Swati volunteered for community work, she saw something that made this wish stronger. She says: "When I went for community work, I was surprised at how efficient the systems were for citizen participation. I asked myself why India couldn’t be like this." It was at this point that the couple realised that the system worked because somebody had taken the trouble to put it in place. Says Swati: "It was a simple leap from there to asking ourselves, if not us who else, to put a system in place?" Moving back to India was no longer a distant option, it became a certainty. By giving up a high-flying career at Citi, Ramesh knew he was staking everything to chase an ideal. But as always, he was comfortable with the gamble–punt high but take the chips home. The final move came when a friend, who had lost both parents within a week of each other in India, spent a weekend with them. Says Swati: "The enormity of her loss jolted us. All we could think was, what were we waiting for?" Monday morning, the couple put in their papers. Even as Citi flew in a director to make Ramesh reconsider, the couple was already looking ahead to India. Planning the move The couple sat down and listed every detail, down to household help, of what it would cost to retire at 34 and begin afresh back home. The derivatives genius brought to bear some of that formidable skill to crafting a personal finance strategy. Central to the plan was ensuring a regular cash flow to take care of living expenses. "It was tempting," admits Ramesh, "to return to India under the Citi umbrella." But he knew it would be self-defeating, if his heart was set on provoking social change. The family was clear they were making a geographical shift, not a lifestyle one. So, living expenses–including household, fuel, staff, two cars–was calculated to average about Rs 2 lakh a month. The children’s fees alone totalled up to Rs 4 lakh annually. The capital cost of the move, including a new home, was pegged at Rs 1.5 crore. Says Ramesh: "We realised that with about Rs 24 lakh annually, we could support a very comfortable lifestyle in India." Then, they promised themselves a no-expense-spared overseas trip every year to touch base with friends–another $30,000-50,000 a year. Says Ramesh: "All put together, it would amount to Rs 50 lakh annually; still half of what we spent at the time of my last posting in London." The big difference: then he drew a hefty salary and bonus, now he would need to make his money work to get the Rs 50 lakh. Says Ramesh: "To get the best return on investment, we had to be free to invest our dollar earnings anywhere in the globe." They, therefore, set up a private equity investment vehicle registered in Mauritius, Ramanathan Capital, to handle the couple’s personal finances and invest in private equity worldwide. Soon, their personal finances were in fine fettle. Their cash flow needs were now met by their investments–stocks, fixed- income instruments and a gradual exposure to Indian equity. However, meeting lifestyle expenses was only a part of the overall financial plan. Their money would also have to fund the voluntary initiatives that would henceforth form the bedrock of their lives in India. The new role Meanwhile, Ramesh was searching for a role for himself in a changing India. He travelled across the country for the first six months, meeting NGOs and bureaucrats. Micro-finance investment and public policy were his two areas of interest. In Bangalore, the state government was putting in place the Bangalore Agenda Task Force (BATF), inviting corporate participation in public policy. Enthused, Ramesh signed up to devise a fund-based accounting system for the Bangalore City Corporation. The double entry book keeping system was in place by April 2001, allowing detailed listings such as the money allotted to each city ward for development work. Finally, disappointed when BATF was unable to involve citizens in the decision-making process, Ramesh and Swati founded Janaagraha, funded entirely by the Ramanathan Foundation with a corpus of Rs 2.5 crore. "True democracy means a citizen should have a voice in government," is what the couple firmly believes. Today, every citizen in each of Bangalore’s 100 corporation wards can participate in the budget allocation of her ward. In 22 wards, corporators have accepted citizens' suggestions. Two years after inception, Janaagraha supports a volunteer staff of 15 and Ramesh reckons it will cost Rs 30-50 lakh annually to run. Therefore, he realigned his investment strategy. The Ramanathan Foundation corpus is now invested in tenanted commercial real estate, earning tax-free returns of 12 per cent. Says Ramesh: "Our personal investments on the other hand return 6-8 per cent after tax, a reason why I will consider more investment in real estate." As Janaagraha draws up more of his time, Ramesh is moving his personal investment decisions into the hands of professional money managers. Says Ramesh: "By the time we’re 50, both our children will be in their undergraduate courses. We will support them through that and for their future, we’ve set up an endowment each." As the couple turns 40, says Ramesh: "Our everyday cash flow expenses are being met, the children’s endowment is in place, Janaagraha has been provided for, so what’s left?" Very little. They returned because "they wanted to give back," and they’ve done that very well indeed. http://www.outlookmoney.com/scripts/IIH021C1.asp?sectionid=10&categoryid=65&articleid=4923

CEOs and the wealth of notions

Gross inequality does far more than breed resentment. It destroys millions of lives, devastates the access of the poor to basic needs, dehumanises both its victims and its votaries, and undermines democracy itself, writes P Sainath.

"The Prime Minister wants CEOs to create wealth for the nation. Then he wants them to take pay cuts." That's a slogan gracing the huge hoardings put up by a Mumbai newspaper. It's over two weeks since Manmohan Singh asked the Confederation of Indian Industry's annual general meeting "to resist excessive remuneration to promoters and senior executives and discourage conspicuous consumption". But the cries of wounded crorepatis still rent the air.

It must intrigue Dr. Singh that the media have been far more hostile than industry itself. After all, the CII had invited him to speak on `inclusive growth.' This is the politically correct jargon of our times. His speech at the event was as vanilla as it gets. It bore no strictures, carried no warning. In effect, the super-rich were told it was okay to be quite greedy, but not obnoxiously and conspicuously greedy. The subtle distinction escaped his audience and enraged the media. The speech drew more editorials in a week than the subject of inequality did all of last year.

The front page stories were more editorials than news reports. Dailies ran whole pages of "debates" on inequality and CEO pay packets. Pages with headlines such as "India Inc & India Red Ink". Most concluded that, actually, we're not so bad after all on the inequality front. The odd dissenter was published, giving the rest of the rant a focal point and a soft target.

The media see themselves as the cutting edge of India's Brave New World. So it was earlier too, when the Bharatiya Janata Party-led National Democratic Alliance hogged massive publicity for its India Shining campaign. Far beyond even what they had paid for with countless crores of public money. For the media, it was and is a mission. One which produces that warm and righteous glow that only the happy wedding of Cause & Commerce can. The poll debacle of 2004 earned us a brief respite from the mantra.

Weeks ago, Mani Shankar Aiyar made a far more devastating speech on the "classes and the masses". It drew a scathing picture of the state of things. The media absorbed that more calmly. After all, Mr. Aiyar was not the 'architect of the reforms'. Dr. Singh was, so the sense of betrayal still pours out from the television screens.

One thing stands out, though. The most hated line of the Prime Minister's speech (apart from daring to suggest that CEOs might survive on a few rupees less) was this: "Such vulgarity insults the poverty of the less privileged". That annoyed the media. Should the `reforms' be derailed because of the `resentment' of some over the success of others?

This is the debate at its lowest. Inequality has many faces. The kind we have nurtured in the `reform' years does a lot more than "plant seeds of resentment in the minds of the have-nots." It destroys millions of lives, devastates the access of the poor to basic needs, dehumanises both its victims and its votaries, and undermines democracy itself. It was there earlier, of course. What's new is the ruthlessness with which we have engineered its growth these past 15 years.

This week's big news is that Mumbai has topped Maharashtra's HSC results with a pass percentage of 76.67. That should not surprise us. The metro's schools and facilities outclass those of other regions. True, even this time, the State toppers are not from Mumbai. They are from Wardha (in Nagpur division) and Amravati. Both in Vidarbha. But at 47.5 and 51.08 per cent, the overall pass percentages of those divisions are dismal. They are way below the State average of 64.25 per cent. And both have fared worse than they did last year.

Here's one reason why. Vidarbha, always electricity starved, saw 12- to 17-hour power cuts at the time the children were studying for their examinations. (It's a region where schools re-open weeks late to avoid exposing children to excessive heat.) The great metro of Mumbai was spared this "power crisis." (Some of the well meaning did write articles on how to be a good citizen and use your air conditioners more efficiently.) In one estimate, a 15-minute power cut in Mumbai could give Vidarbha two hours of electricity. Half that would have helped the students with their examinations. Further, malls and multiplexes lead Mumbai's biggest power guzzlers. But this is the city of 25,000 of India's 83,000 dollar millionaires. Not only home "to the largest number of affluent individuals," as an American Express study puts it. But also having "the fastest growing affluent population in the world". So the darkness is banished to zones such as Vidarbha - which produces more power than the other regions of Maharashtra.

Inequality in the context of growing commercialisation of education means that millions of bright and talented students are shut out from a better future for want of money. That rubs in an old truth. Merit = accident of birth + electricity. (And maybe a dash of geography.) In health, a fifth of Indians no longer seek any kind of medical treatment. Because they cannot afford it. In law and justice, each month brings us a new and shameful example of how the law is not an ass but a far more malleable creature.

Still, what outraged the media most was: CEO salaries. Touching them is "against the spirit of the reforms". Earlier this year, a programme on an English TV channel asked: Has the reform process largely favoured the rich and corporations? Close to 70 per cent of an audience of younger generation corporate executives answered `yes'. The anchor's own take was revealing. When one of the tycoons argued for 'inclusive growth' she laughed and told him: "You're sounding like a politician. That's the language they use."

This fortnight's debate did have its moments. Its highlight: Planning Commission Deputy Chairman Montek Singh Ahluwalia defending the Prime Minister's statement on television. Endorsing a call for corporate restraint must have been embarrassing for Mr. Ahluwalia. He said that, er, well you know, ahem, the Prime Minister did not quite really, in his view, uh, say, exactly what was being ascribed to him. Then he brightened up. "It's an issue even in America," he said, quite rightly, of obscene corporate salaries.

Well, it's been an issue there for two decades or more. Five years before Mr. Ahluwalia stumbled upon the debate in the United States, Merrill Lynch, Lucent Technologies, Citigroup, and AT& T axed over 91,000 workers between them. The same year, their four CEOs took home more than $130 million in pay. (Plus more millions in stock options and other sops). Lucent Technologies in fact (as the New York Daily News pointed out) reported a $17 billion loss and sacked 56,000 workers. Then it gave its CEO a $22 million payoff.

Management guru Tom Peters long ago suggested that CEOs be called CDOs: that is, chief destruction officers. Because "you essentially get paid for blowing up your own business before the competition does".

In India, the ILO reports that labour productivity shot up 84 per cent between 1990 and 2002. But real wages in manufacturing fell 22 per cent in the same period. It sees this as "an indication of deterioration in the incomes and livelihoods of workers. Despite the increasing efficiency of their labour." This was also a period when CEO salaries had begun clocking all-time records. Even now, top-end compensations in India are growing much faster than in the U.S.

Meanwhile, two days after the Prime Minister's speech, the media hailed the New Dawn. The emergence of India's first trillionaire in Reliance chief Mukesh Ambani. As one writer puts it: "expressed as a percentage of profits, Indian company heads are far above their global counterparts ... For every Rs.1 crore earned as profit, the Indian CEOs take home Rs.16,800." Global CEOs take home Rs.9,900.

"Government cannot legislate CEO salaries." That's a line running through most attacks on Dr. Singh. They do legislate taxes, though. And also a low-end wage. About the one thing Tony Blair can look back on without shame is his government's minimum wage law. The Guardian points out that as a result of it, "Britain's lowest-paid workers enjoyed a higher improvement in their standard of living since 2003 than those in any other European country."

Over five years ago, Paul Krugman, in a devastating piece on inequality in the U.S., found it obscene when a CEO there earned a thousand times what an ordinary worker did. What about us? Presently, the average package of the top five Indian CEOs is around Rs.13.5 crore. The lowest paid workers in their own companies would earn 15,000-20,000 times less. If we compare these top incomes to those of agricultural workers, the gap would be 32,000:1 or worse.

Dr. Krugman argued that it was not simply economic well-being that such levels of inequality threatened. It was democracy itself. He's in good company. Decades ago, the architect of a very different kind of reforms than those Dr. Singh represents, put it sharply. Dr. Ambedkar warned that a lack of economic and social democracy would spell doom for our political democracy. In Dr. Krugman's own nation, long ago, Justice Louis Brandeis said the same thing: "We can have concentrated wealth in the hands of a few or we can have democracy, but we cannot have both." ⊕

P Sainath
17 Jun 2007
Courtesy: The Hindu

It's been a hard day's night

P. Sainath

Hundreds of women in Maharashtra's Gondia district travel from small towns to the villages to earn a daily wage.

— Photo: P. Sainath

REVERSE MIGRATION: These women are former beedi workers who gather everyday at Tiroda in Maharashtra to board a train to nearby villages in search of work.

REVANTABAI KAMBLE has not spoken to her six-year-old son for months. They live in the same house in Tiroda, of course. It's the same with Buribai Nagpure — though she might sometimes see her older boy if he's awake. Both women are among hundreds in this part of Maharashtra's Gondia district who spend just four hours a day at home and travel over 1,000 km each week — to earn Rs.30 daily.

It's 6 a.m. when we accompany the women from their homes to the railway station. Most have been up two hours already. "I've finished the cooking, washing, sweeping and cleaning," says Buribai cheerfully. "So now we can talk." No other member of her household is awake when we arrive. "Poor things," she says, "they're tired out." Isn't Buribai tired out, too? "Yes, but what to do? We have no options."

At the station are many other women without options. They are also unusual in one sense: these are not migrants from village to city. They are footloose workers from an urban setting seeking work in the villages. This search takes them from moffusil towns — Tiroda is a tehsil headquarters — to toil as agricultural labour in the villages almost every day of their lives. Spending up to 20 hours away from home daily. There are no weekend offs and no jobs in Tiroda. "After the beedi industry went," says Mahendra Walde, "it is impossible for them to find work here." Mr. Walde is district secretary of the Kisan Sabha in Gondia.

Many of the women live five or more kilometres from the railway station. "So we have to be up by 4 a.m.," says Buribai. "We finish all our work and walk to the station by seven." That's when the train comes in and we clamber on with the group that will go to Salwa in rural Nagpur. The 76-km journey takes two hours. On the platform and in the train are more women, weary-eyed, hungry, half-asleep. Most sit on the floor of the crowded train, leaning against the carriage wall, trying to snatch some sleep before their station arrives.

"We will reach home at 11 p.m.," says Revantabai. "We sleep by midnight. And start all over again at 4 a.m. the next morning. I have not seen my six-year-old awake in a long time." Then she laughs: "Some of the much younger children may not recognise their mothers when they do see them." Their children have either dropped out of school because they cannot afford it. Or perform poorly there. "There is no one at home to watch or help," points out Buribai. And some of the youngsters are themselves doing any work they find.

"Naturally, they do badly at school," says Lata Papankar, a teacher based in Tiroda. "Who can blame them?" It appears the Government of Maharashtra can. The performance of these children is held against the schools, which might lose funds. And against teachers trying to help them, who might be penalised for poor results. An approach that will further erode their chances of going to school.

Seated on the rocking floor of the train, Shakuntalabai Agashe says she has been doing this for 15 years. The only breaks come during festivals or the monsoon. "For some kinds of work," she says, "we may be paid Rs.50. But that's rare. Mostly it's Rs.25-30." There are no jobs in their towns, say the women.

The money there is has flown to the cities. The industries there were have closed down. The moffussil towns are in decay. Almost all these women found work with the beedi industry in the past. "When that went we were finished," says Buribai. "Beedi is a footloose industry, ever in search of cheaper labour," says K. Nagaraj of the Madras Institute of Development Studies who has worked on the sector. "It shifts base quite quickly. The human consequences of such shifts are devastating. And have gone up these past 15 years." A lot of beedi work "has gone off from Gondia to Uttar Pradesh and Chhattisgarh," says Pradeep Papankar of the Kisan Sabha.

"Of course we do not buy tickets to travel on the train," the women say. "A round ticket would cost more than the Rs.30 we earn. Our system is simple: if we get caught, we pay the checker a bribe of Rs.5." Ticket revenue has been privatised. "They extort it from us knowing we can't afford it."

"My older boy drops me at the station on his cycle sometimes," says Buribai. "Then he stays there looking for any work, whatever the pay. My daughter cooks at home. And my second boy takes the meal to his brother." In short, says Mr. Walde, "three people are working for the wage of one." But all five family members together, including her husband, often make much less than Rs.100 a day. Some days, just two of them may have earned anything at all. They do not have a BPL ration card.

At stations along the way are labour contractors, waiting to pick up workers on the cheap.

Reaching Salwa around 9 a.m. we set out a kilometre to the village and a further three km into the fields. Buribai does that last stretch with a huge vessel of water perched on her head, yet outpaces all of us.

Those on whose fields they labour for a pittance are also in trouble. The agrarian crisis has hit landowner Prabhakar Vanjare badly. He owns three acres and has taken ten on lease. "Prices are terrible, we earn almost nothing," he complains. And resident labour in the village has migrated elsewhere in despair. Hence the coming of these women.

This is eastern Vidharbha, away from the troubled cotton belt. Mr. Vanjare grows paddy, chilli, and other items. Right now, he just requires the women for weeding work. They work till about 5-30 p.m. and get back to the station an hour later.

"But the train only comes in by 8 p.m." points out Buribai. "So we will reach Tiroda only around 10 p.m." Their families are asleep when the women get home. And asleep when they leave in the mornings. "What family life can there be," asks Revantabai.

By the time they reach home, they have travelled over 170 km. And will do that every day of the week — to earn Rs.30. "We'll be home by 11 p.m." says Buribai, "to eat and sleep." Until four hours later, when they have to get up and do it all over again.