The saying goes that ‘corruption of the best makes the worst.’

Rajat Gupta, the former chief of McKinsey & Co, was recently in the news for being arrested by the FBI on charges of securities fraud and insider trading through which he tried to make his friend, hedge fund owner Raj Rajaratnam successful by leaking top corporate secrets and details of boardroom discussions.

This Wall Street icon of Indian origin ran the reputed McKinsey Consulting group from 1994 to 2003. Educated at IIT Delhi and Harvard Business School, former Director, Goldman Sachs, he was a poster boy for the Indian middle class. Born in Kolkata in 1948 to a teacher mother, Gupta’s father a journalist died when he was 16 years old. Two years later his mother too died leaving him and his 3 siblings to fend for themselves.

After finishing his engineering from IIT Delhi, he went to Harvard Business School for his MBA. At 45, he was made the chief of McKinsey, the first non-US-born executive to run it, considered then the most influential consulting firm. Clearly there was no holding him back. At the same time he seemed never to lose his focus on India, trying to give back to his homeland in diverse ways. “Try to make other people successful. If you work on making other people successful, they will in turn make you successful beyond your dreams.” This was the advice that Gupta gave to students at the Indian School of Business, Hyderabad, the B-school that he helped start. Figures such as Gupta, have become stories of achieving success the old-fashioned way, through sheer grit and determination, through relentless hard work.

However, if found guilty of charges of insider trading, this prominent global Indian could face 20 years or more in federal prison. Detractors argue that much of the evidence against him is circumstantial, that wire-tapping as a means of gathering evidence is justifiable only in the absence of other reasonable means, etc. But public opinion is fast to form around an issue. The common man on the street feels vindicated if wrongdoings by the big-wigs are brought within the purview of justice. It takes years to build a reputation that a few moments’ frailties, a crucial error of judgement, the smallest slip can undo.

On January 7, 2009, the world woke up to shocked silence when Ramalinga Raju founder of Satyam Computers admitted to committing fraud and cheating six million shareholders. He admitted to a botched acquisition attempt involving Maytas in December 2008 that led to a plunge in the share price of Satyam. In his letter of resignation from the Satyam board Raju indicated that the dupery was of such mammoth proportions that “It was like riding a tiger, not knowing how to get off without being eaten.” Here was another corporate leader who would be remembered in Indian business history—not the way he would have wanted, as a successful software entrepreneur, but as the perpetrator of the country’s biggest corporate fraud. A person of humble origins, Raju went into the software services business after returning from the US with a coveted MBA degree from the Ohio University with big dreams. His vision slowly took shape and Satyam Computers became a household name in the ITES sector. No one who had followed his rise in career could have imagined an end like the one Raju went on to have.

Why then do success stories such as those of Rajat Gupta or Ramalinga Raju do a volte face and turn into murky tales of corporate greed and scandalous conduct? What is it in the human mind that suddenly blurs the sense of right and wrong? Is it what the ancient Greeks called “hubris” [by definition, a loss of contact with reality and an overestimation of one's own competence or capabilities, especially when the person exhibiting it is in a position of power]? In classical literatures of almost all cultures, and especially of Western culture, the notion of a tragic hero has in it the seeds or germs of corruption even when its essence is made up of exalted qualities such as a penchant for excellence, the vision of things greater than what is allowed by one’s immediate reality, the zeal to push the envelope, so to speak. Such an individual inspires us, holds our attention in awe. Then when he falls from grace we experience a vicarious fear laced with thrill and finally a cathartic relief that the ill fate has befallen that individual whom we were putting on a pedestal a while ago and that we have been spared of its ramifications.

On a much simpler level, in more worldly and less metaphysical terms, Subroto Bagchi, co-founder of MindTree Corp., writes in his blog: “I reached out to a world-wide group of people I deeply admire for their professionalism while writing The Professional. I had asked them these three questions: what qualities did they admire in a “professional”? What were some of their own uplifting experiences in dealing with other professionals? Three, what were their recollections of unprofessional conduct? These men and women, from a diverse set of fields, indicated a list of qualities…”  He then goes on to collate a list, which interestingly is topped by “integrity”, the one quality that is most prominent amongst all leaders and all professionals.

Integrity is a pre-requisite for any professional. There is no scope for any debate there. Intelligence without integrity is like a body without a soul. However, to pass judgement on an erring individual from the comforts of one’s couch is perhaps a fallacy. All of us watch news-clips on television but perhaps these are also occasions that warrant us to look into the deep abyss of our own souls. What we see on television are facts. But facts cannot and should not be confused with truth. The truth is shrouded in mystery. Visible, tangible facts are that the Rajus and Guptas have failed at the altar of integrity. The truth to uncover is whether we as individuals would have passed the same test of temptation…

Black, white or shades of grey-that is the question.

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For a generation that grew up watching Doordarshan (on a tiny black and white TV), ‘journalism’ meant (well, once upon a time!!) stony-faced news-reporters reading out scripts on a DD channel.

In stark contrast today, the media has an overpowering and undeniable presence in our life. Private players like NDTV have revolutionised the concept of journalism and India has started looking at journalists in awe.

With India emerging as a powerhouse, and the media playing a crucial role in shaping thoughts (both social and political), ‘Journalism in India’ is indeed an interesting area of study. And that exactly was the subject of discussion at a conference hosted by The India Media Centre at the University of Westminster

The conference got off to a great start with an introduction by Professor Daya Thussu, who gave us a jolt with ‘..there are more TV channels in India, than there are in the whole of Europe’. India’s incredible market expansion naturally brought with it, both opportunities and challenges – professionalism, for example. What with the tremendous potential of 2G and 3G in online journalism, we are looking at very interesting trends over the next few years.

Remember when ‘Prime Time’ meant the 9 o clock News? Well, not true any more. Prime Time today is quite customer-centric (not citizen-centric), showcasing many non-news programmes catering to mass appeal. Apart from the fact that this proves how market-driven our media is, it also depicts an uneven boom in the market (information by Vibodh Parthasarathy).

The conference took me down memory lane, when a couple of decades ago, our cable operator was the guy who lived (and worked) in a tiny shack down the street. Again, not true at all in today’s scenario. Like Andrew Whitehead (BBC editor and veteran journalist) mentioned, his local cable operator in Delhi (then a duopoly market) used to be the ‘Happy Cakes and Pastries’ owner!

Well, haven’t we come a really long way – in media, journalism, broadcasting and distribution.

However, this boom has come at a price – increasing ‘Paid-for editorial content’, sensationalism, and a slow but steady exodus from print to broadcast media. We see it all around us. The media tends to focus on issues that are pertinent to the ‘vote bank’ rather than issues that truly merit attention! (Andrew Whitehead)

Not just that, but most channels these days follow a familiar pattern of programming (patterns with proven success), leading to sameness across channels, and a lot of clutter. If you asked me, today I find myself wanting to go back in time, and tune into good old All India Radio. Apparently, the BBC has about 10 million listeners. In contrast, Indian radio has boomed in terms of non-news programmes, like music and talk shows.

Coming to a very pertinent issue, as an average middle-class Indian, I perceive media to be my instrument of change. Movements like the Anna Hazare campaign, the controversial Slut Walk, or even the Pink Chaddi Campaign, fully utilised the potential of the media in gathering tremendous support and actually making ‘change’ happen.

Andrew offered a very interesting viewpoint, that the Indian middle class should stop using the media, and rather, should work on finding its own political muscle. Personally, I do think it is more practical and simpler to resort to the media. However, Andrew’s explanation got me thinking. Many people only want to use the media, without actually getting their hands dirty. For example, Indian citizens who have never ever cast a vote. There is perhaps a sense of hypocrisy, in people not performing their basic duties as a citizen and taking the easy way out of making use of media.

The conference was an eye-opener in many ways. Bits and pieces of the conference that I found intriguing were:

1. The representation of Dalits in the Indian newsrooms – the informal glass ceiling, preferred invisibility, and the very interesting question of whether the Dalit Elite (i.e., dalits with access to better opportunities) tend to turn into activists instead of journalists.

2. The lack of synergy between academia (media education) and the actual industry

3. A presentation on the politically-controlled media in Tamil Nadu, by Professor Savyasaachi Jain, where popular news channels were openly used as political vehicles by the owning party.

Hailing from the land of M.G.Ramachandran and Ms.Jayalalitha myself, I agree there is strong basis for this case study. However, I also believe that the average educated middle-class citizen tends to look beyond politically-controlled newspapers/channels, and has the capacity to judge for themselves.

4. A lively discussion by Professor Uma Shankar, who hit the nail on the head, with his line ‘India is no longer a nation of introverts’. While a news bulletin would be reported quite soberly by say, the BBC, it would be highly sensationalised by popular Indian channels. Indian journalists and media as a whole, is far more confident today.

5. We don’t quite seem to attract foreign correspondents in India, for various reasons like logistics, language barrier, cultural differences, and a general perception that India lacks the appeal of ‘elite’ countries. Well, I do hope that the future brings not only foreign correspondents, but also wide coverage of global news bulletins in local Indian newspapers.

6. A very candid presentation by Arvind Kumar from ITV (New Delhi) deserves mention here, for his emphasis on the ‘market-orientation of newspapers’. With Brand Managers taking on a huge role in deciding editorial content, it is no surprise that we tend to showcase the 4Cs – Cricket, Crime, Cinema and Celebrities. In contrast to decades ago (when Gandhiji insisted that advertising revenues affected the missionary goal of newspapers), ad revenues seem to become increasingly important.

7. As Abhik Sen (The Economist) rightly mentioned in the closing presentation, 70% of India lives in villages. However, the rampant issue of farmer suicides, malnutrition, exodus to cities, etc are hardly ever highlighted by media.

8. I loved Zareer Masani’s mention of ‘The Indian press, with all its imperfections, still remains a check on the abusive Raj’.

To end this post, here is a very relevant point made by Dr.William Crawley on the ‘accountability of Indian media’.

We have been bombarded with ‘scams’ not only involving politicians but also the media (take the Nira Radia tapes, for example). How accountable is the media to the country? We are in a fledgling stage of accountability today. I do hope however, that as the media becomes increasingly powerful, it also shows a corresponding sense of responsibility and accountability.

The conference itself was a tremendous effort by the Conference team: Professor Daya Thussu, Dr Daisy Hasan, Svayasaachi Jain and Helen Cohen. While the subject itself was enough to evoke strong interest, the content of many papers was striking and thought-provoking. We, at The NRI magazine, congratulate the India Media Centre on organizing the conference, and bringing the changing face of Indian journalism under the spotlight.

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Of late, I have been quite fascinated by a TV commercial where a naive guy asks for directions to the nearest ATM and a group of amused youngsters ask him why he doesn’t use his cell phone – obviously a smarter option and even the kids know it. At first go, however, I couldn’t figure out who might be running the ad – the bank, the mobile company or a 3G service provider. And it hardly tells you what the poor fellow should do, in case he is hard up for some hard cash. No cell phone can deliver that yet (I mean the currency notes), right into your wallet.

Not that I have anything against m-banking or Internet banking, for that matter. These are extremely convenient tech tools that save me from travelling, traffic and paperwork. Of course there were times when local or international money transfers via Net banking failed to track the account and went back to the sender’s – causing a lot of hard feelings between the concerned parties. But I would rather take a philosophical view of the same. If we enjoy the benefits of technology, we must be prepared to face the downside as well, that’s how I console myself.

I was in a brown study regarding the banking evolution when my eight-year-old niece, on a vacation to India, rudely shattered my stream of consciousness by pointing out that India now offers drive-through banking as well (just like the fast-food giant McDonald’s does via its drive-in delivery), but that would hardly benefit me as I lack co-ordination and consequently, can’t drive.

Ouch… the truth hurts…

The fact is, I came of banking age in an era when automated teller machines were mostly regarded as tech wonders (in the 90s, our part of North Calcutta had less than five) and banking was anything but a matter of convenience. I still remember the grim expressions writ large on the faces of friends, family and total strangers as they entered the cold, half-lit rooms strewn with papers in order to deal with the human interface – secured by steel bars and apparently extremely busy at the other side of those intimidating counters. For some unknown reason, banks those days almost always resembled war offices (I realised that when I went to watch Schindler’s List) – the same kind of raw lighting, dusty desks and toppling files – manned by portly figures who disdained to communicate with the lesser humans, standing in long queues or anxiously hovering around those counters.

There was a look of intense concentration on all faces (like the one you may found on NASA scientists, about to start a spaceship countdown) as customers intending to withdraw cash handed over their cheques, eagerly snatched at the wooden tokens handed over (i.e., if all was well with the cheque that would have to undergo an intense scrutiny closely resembling a genome analysis) and did their best to hear those numbers being called out. There was always a steady humming that could have drowned any announcement, but once you missed your turn, you could be made to wait for an indefinite period. Depositing cash, especially a large amount, was equally painful as counting was done manually while those sad souls standing behind you silently cursed you from the bottom of their hearts.

Well, that’s the regular thingy. At times, one would be compelled to undergo more intricate tasks (for instance, opening or closing an account). And I shudder to think of the time and efforts it took to get those things done.

For a generation who started banking in that manner at the age of 18, the ATMs and the plastic came as TOTAL liberation – liberation from the gruelling hours (in those days banks would not open before 10 in the morning, would not operate past 2 pm and evening banks were as rare as albino tigers in Indian jungles) and time-consuming human interference. It also gave me enough time and privacy to conduct banking on my own and at my convenience. In fact, Gen Y today rarely has face-to-face contact with a living, breathing banking species. Moreover, if anyone actually longs to meet real people, over the counter or on the phone, to clarify issues or find human solutions to impossible financial snafus, one may have to pay service charges and additional fees. I, therefore, have been quite convinced that from now on, it will always be self-banking via networks, ATMs and other tech tools, and nothing short of a banking fraud or payment default can bring me face to face with a human banker again.

I was obviously wrong. Now that we are truly on our own, people are crying foul and once again seeking human assistance. And they seem to have sound logic on their side. My colleagues often complain that most ATMs in India are one-way tickets – you can only get the money out but can’t deposit it. Of course, a few of them instruct you about how to put your money in envelops and put it in. But people here can’t trust machines so implicitly and actually lose their sleep, wondering again and again whether the money is safe. As for high-value cheques, no one trusts the drop boxes, not even the banks. I have come across warnings aplenty that tell me not to deposit anything over Rs 20,000 (around $500). So, what’s the solution this time?

Once again, it’s elementary and seems to be a copycat of what started in the west nearly 70 years ago. Simply put, it’s a drive-through facility now where services are faster, well, as fast as you find them in petrol pumps and drive-in McDonald’s; hours are comfortable; and you get all the human assistance you want, without even getting off your car. Inspired by the concept widely followed in the USA, the Rajkot Nagarik Sahakari Bank Ltd (RNSBL) has introduced two drive-through facilities in Rajkot and Surat and the authorities feel that it’s a roaring success. In fact, the bank intends to offer similar facilities across the state of Gujarat in near future.

The service was first introduced at the bank’s demat facility branch in Rajkot where more than 35,000 demat account holders leverage its advantages. Later, RNSBL introduced it in Surat for cash and cheque transactions as well. In Surat, any one can make cash transactions up to Rs 1 lakh through drive-in banking.

For many, that may be the ultimate in banking comfort and an automotive dream come true. Multi-laned, well-covered and well-lit drive-up teller windows, along with expanded hours and friendly assistance, undoubtedly represent the right kind of ‘personal touch’ and ‘convenience’ in techno-age banking. Unless, of course, banks are compelled to close those facilities due to traffic woes. This was precisely what happened in downtown Zurich and in 1983, Credit Suisse, then known as Schweizerische Kreditanstalt (SKA), had to close Switzerland’s first-ever drive-through bank that took off in 1962. The futuristic-looking underground bank featured eight saw-blade-shaped glass pavilions, seven of which were for left-hand-drive cars, and the remaining one was for right-hand-drive automobiles.

Incidentally, the first drive-through bank was opened in Dallas, Texas, in 1938. This new marketing channel came from the Hillcrest State Bank, an institution whose name has long been associated with the history of banking in the USA. But some experts claim that the Exchange National Bank of Chicago had first introduced the concept in 1946. However, unlike Switzerland, the concept has found enough takers and most major banks continue to offer drive-through facilities nationwide.

And that maybe the case with India as well. After all, new roads are being built every day; car consumption is picking up like never before and people look forward to premium banking and value-added services. What’s more, if McDonald’s can re-purpose tech to gel ‘burgering’ with banking (it has joined hands with British Telecom to set up Wireless Fidelity Access Zones in some 500 UK outlets where you can access the full range of Internet banking services while enjoying your meal), Indian banks may soon offer drive-in to ATMs and actual counters, with a Cocoberry outlet on the sideline to keep my cool while I struggle with late payments and bloated credit card debts.

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With a career spanning 40 years and having starred in more than 180 movies, there’s been plenty written and said about India’s most iconic living actor, Amitabh Bachchan. But like many Bollywood and Hollywood stars, the Big B has been quick to embrace the social networking revolution and get his own viewpoint across.

I caught up with him in London during the launch of a new mobile phone product called “Bachchan Bol” – the world’s first celebrity voice blogging service. Already with 2.5 million subscribers in India, what exactly will his UK fans get for the price of a text or phone call? Here’s what he had to say about his brand new way of reaching out to fans.

You’ve been an active blogger on BigAdda since 2008. How did you get drawn into that?

Somebody told me how a blog works and I just started writing. Then I started getting comments. I was really excited when I got one response and now I have two million in a month! There are five to six hundred very dedicated comments that come in every day.

So what’s Vogging™?

It started from blogging. When Inside India came up with a concept of voice blogging or “Vogging” I thought it was novel. Many a times when I’ve been on the public platform audiences have invariably asked for me to say something or recite a dialogue from a film. I used to think how wonderful if I could do that almost on a regular basis. So when the concept of “vogging” came up I immediately connected with it.

What’s the appeal?

It’s very personal. Blogging is a lot more expansive. You get more time to write hundreds or thousands of words. But vogging is much more challenging. To immediately have the facility to be able to pull out your phone and say ‘This is where I am and this is what I’m doing’. It’s intimate and instantaneously. In India we have the concept of fan letters and concerts where stars appear but here was an opportunity where you can get the impression that you are sitting across a table and talking to your favourite star.

Do you have complete creative control over the content of your voggs?

Yes it will be entirely my own. No editing. They’ll be in English and Hindi.

Give us an idea of the kind of things you will be talking about.

I’ve been vogging in India for a year and it’s the first things I do in the morning soon after my gym session. It’s the start of the day. I give them an idea of where I’m going or what I did yesterday. If there’s anything that has been troubling me overnight I share it with them. It could be anything. I could be driving and stuck in a traffic jam and pull out my phone and say so. The facility will soon become more interactive where people can ask me some questions, like how do I approach a certain role, what was going through my mind or why did you wear those white flares?

Any plans to incorporate some singing into your voggs?

You’ll have to buy my CD to hear that! (laughs) I mean it’s a free medium. I could be doing anything. Maybe I could record a vogg when I’m in a recording studio or something.

When did you record the first UK vogg and what did you say?

I did it this morning. It’s about being here in London and launching the vogg. To have a listen you’ll have to subscribe by calling or texting Bachchan BOL.

Millions adore your distinctive baritone voice. But whose voice would you like to hear in a vogg?

Most of them are no more unfortunately. I would have loved to have had a conversation with Lawrence Olivier, Marlon Brando or listen to a vogg by Dilip Kumar or Waheeda Rehman. This is why there is interest in this kind of a facility. Future generations will get to interact or listen in to a celebrity or idol of theirs. It keeps us in the eyes of the younger generation.

Your family often feature on your blogs. How do they feel about now featuring in voggs?

They give me the freedom to say what I want to say, as they do about me. My grandchildren feature too. It’s not a problem. They don’t see it as an invasion of their privacy.

It’s admirable that someone of your seniority is embracing new technology. Why do you want to communicate through this medium?

I don’t want to be walking behind my grandchildren or son in technology and be absolutely lost. I just want to keep up with them. I never want to overtake them – just know what they are talking about.

Do new forms of social networking like this diminish the role of traditional media?

This is in no way an effort to deprive the press of their importance. Many years ago I read the wonderful line that said ‘You never get funny with someone who buys ink by the bucket.’ So you just accept that fact. The press is very popular and you will not replace them. But yes there are times when, say at two o clock in the morning, when you just want to say something. What do you do? You can blog, twitter or now vogg.

Have you ever been bitten by something you’ve said in cyberspace?

Yes sometimes it happens but then you should be prepared to bare the consequences. In general if you’ve said something and somebody has got offended by it then you just clarify it. With regards to social issues, international or political affairs, yes you have the liberty to lend your opinion. But also be prepared to be hit on the head in case you take an extreme position on some issue. I normally like to keep away from that because I’m not knowledgeable enough about these areas.

Do you ever worry about over exposure or revealing too much about yourself?

Next year I will be stepping into seventy years. I couldn’t possibly be thinking about over exposure at seventy!

The media pursue you everywhere and with social networking the public can follow you too. How do you escape or log off?

When I go home or even when I’m here. You don’t know it but I’ve actually logged off as we’re sitting here (laughs). Only joking. But you know what I mean. It’s just something very personal. When your blogging you’re blogging and when you’re with your family you’re with them.

For more info visit www.bachchanbol.com

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I spoke in a different language to my friends during the World Cup. At first, my new phrases brought double takes and wide grins, but they pretty quickly got used to my new verbal madness and started to ignore me.

Can’t blame them. What revamped my speech wasn’t the language of cricket – silly mid-off, uneven bounce, late cuts and all – which would be ridiculous enough. No: it was the language of advertising.

“Oho! Suzuki Slingshot!”

“Yes sir. I’ll get Idea, sir.” -”Good idea. ”

“It’s good to change colours.”

“The road is full of idiots.”

“Wow. What a bathroom.” -my personal favourite

(They’re not much on paper, but trust me, hear them enough times and they become poetry.)

In a country where almost every one of the millions of slum households (let alone the vast swathes of middle-class India) has a satellite dish porting images into that glowing box in the corner, I’m quite likely in the minority. I certainly was amongst my friends and colleagues, who always seem to have their fingers on the pulse when it comes to the instant satisfaction machine that is modern television. They have in the past asked me enthusiastic questions like, “Do you like ZooZoo??” – to which I could only shake my head and exit as shamefully as possible.

It’s been years since I was last a regular TV viewer. Objectively, I would say I’ve simply replaced TV with the Internet; in fact, I now spend more time online than doing anything else, even sleeping. However, there is a key difference often noted between these two platforms. On the Internet, you are effectively the master of your own destiny. You choose where you want to click, what you want to look at, whom you want to interact with, etc (though Google and Facebook might have something to say about that). On TV, even with hundreds of channels available in the satellite age, you have little more control than pressing the up and down channel buttons. You are a passive consumer.

In this way, TV is so much faster, more compressed, and more insidious as a pop culture machine than the Internet, largely due to that constant repetition of advertising messages. And during a major event like the Cricket World Cup, the specific advertising messages that bankroll the competition get pride of place at the end of every over, upon every wicket, during drinks breaks, and even in sidebars inserted during the action. On top of that, the turf and boundary are covered in slogans and logos. In the eyes of television and advertising execs, a cricket viewer is not a cricket lover but a constant consumer of ads.

I became one of those consumers during the World Cup. And how. Now I knew what ‘ZooZoo’ meant, and the many faces of Saif Ali Khan. After my years in the TV-less wilderness, exposure to this brave new world made me a bit giddy, and I became a walking endorsement for the Official Sponsors of ICC World Cup 2011. I distanced myself from those sponsors with a mocking tone, of course, but the fact is that I was still parroting the efforts of their respective marketing departments.

I have another excuse, though, and that’s the fact that the ads I was being saturated with were for a completely different demographic than I was used to. I learned that in India, happy families can sell anything, and so can scantily clad women – even though they’re so frowned-upon in this society. That’s the other thing about TV advertising as opposed to Internet advertising: it’s so much more demographically specific, and it both feeds off and informs the pop culture of the demographic it’s intended for. My Facebook News Feed, on the other hand, is populated by people in several countries around the world who have varied interests and are well-informed. Things get repeated if several people find them exceptional in some way, otherwise they fall off the page. On TV, that peer review doesn’t exist. The men in boardrooms decide what you get, and then you consume it helplessly – hence the scantily clad women.

To be honest, I became much more aware of my advertising obsession after it was over. When the World Cup finished with Dhoni’s towering six, with it went my reason for watching TV, and I was suddenly back in a world that seemed so quiet without catchy jingles or addictive slogans. I noticed how much more varied my thoughts became as my jokes about Steve Waugh’s and Virender Sehwag’s respective acting abilities ceased to have relevance. I could get back to ideas that were wider in scope and explored at greater length than the 10-30 seconds of a TV commercial. Ideas like those explored in Design Observer, and in WSJ’s India Real Time. Just as quickly as I got into India’s television pop culture loop, I dropped out of it – without any real hangover.

That lack of lasting impact is testament to the nature of television’s power: for it to retain its stranglehold, it needs to be a constant presence in your life. I’m still undecided as to whether my satirical repetition of advertising slogans constitutes buying into the system or setting myself apart from it; an unwitting member of it, or an objective critic. I do know, however, that I have little interest in those slogans now that I don’t hear them fifty times a day. Apart from the many noisy government candidates touring the neighbourhood in speaker-filled taxis at the moment – it is election season, after all – I have peace, and the option to choose. (I think I’ll choose Facebook.)

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It’s time for Café Coffee Day & Barista – urban India’s best loved hangout joints to step aside. Starbucks will soon be brewing a fight to capture India’s buzzing coffee market that’s grown at alarming proportions in the last ten years. It was a decade that saw the grubby Udupi restaurant serving the much loved ‘kaapi’ fall out of flavor with India’s mobile savvy gen X and legitimized paying an unheard of hundred bucks for the frothy drink that came along with snazzy seating, smart menus and shining cutlery. Coffee and conversation became the mantra & brands increasingly latched on to the fast emerging ‘hangout’ culture that’s now become all too pervasive through the CCD generation.

Starbucks which is making an entry in collaboration with Tata Coffee is not the first one though to make a bid for India. Costa Coffee & The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf are still struggling to make their presence felt amid local goliaths, and cracking the market is going to be tough given the first mover advantage the local brands have. The price sensitive nature of the Indian market will also be a challenge say experts.

Starbucks though is positioning itself as an upscale brand, launching initially through the Tata-run chain of luxury 5 star hotels. And going by India’s fast growing appetite for extravagance that could perhaps work well for them.

If the first phase of the country’s growth was fuelled by mass brands making a beeline for the middle classes’ attention, albeit with a touch of quality, the next chapter could well be about big spending and unrestrained decadence. Luxury brands are sprouting all over, changing definitions of what ‘normal’ is and Starbucks is just one among the many international names targeting India’s new found confidence with money. If The Four Seasons opened a couple of years ago, the Shangri-la is on its way and if BMW & Porsche showrooms dot tony neighborhoods of Mumbai & Delhi, the Ferrari is set to steal their thunder this year.

Barista itself took its brand to the next level recently with its premium offering, Barista Crème. And there are even plans to introduce wine and beer menus at some of their lounges.

Now those are surely comforting precedents for Starbucks as it gears up give Indians a whiff of their exotic brews!

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There are a few commodities in Kerala that will always be in high demand. Rice, obviously, and the coconut products that invariably accompany it at mealtimes. Liquor, as previously mentioned, is on an upward consumption curve. And then there’s gold. Even as ubiquitous and controversial as liquor has become, it cannot hold a candle to the influence of gold in the average Malayali’s life. The desire to acquire and hoard it seems to be hard-wired, a vital element in the struggle to survive and, if you’re fortunate, to be upwardly mobile. To put it simply, in Kerala, gold – like Gordon Gekko’s greed – is good.

This love affair with gold apparently has its roots in the global spice trade during the years of the Roman Empire. Kerala, and in particular Kochi (Cochin), was a key port among the channels of trade and frequented not only by Roman ships but also by Greeks, Jews, Arabs and Chinese. The foreign merchants and their customers back home were so besotted with Indian pepper, cardamom and cinnamon that they were quite happy to part with increasing amounts of gold in exchange. It surely follows that if a Keralite had gold in those ancient times, he must have had some dealings involving foreigners, and would as a result be viewed by his peers with greater prestige. Thus, the value of gold in Kerala would have risen as more people wanted to increase their status by possessing that precious yellow metal.

Status remained the driving force behind gold consumption over the ensuing two millennia, but that underlying factor has been replaced by a very prominent, overriding one in the last century or so. That new factor is dowry. Dowry used to be the preserve of Muslims, Christians and the most elite Hindu families, until one day somebody hit upon the notion that marriage gives all women a meaningful life. That meaning, of course, has value. Soon, every family with a son of age was demanding a suitable dowry in the ‘marriage market’, with the requested amount decided by the family’s economic and social conditions (and what the next-door neighbours got – status never far from the equation). In the modern age, it can take the form of beachfront land, a job in a hardware store or a new Maruti, but the most important part remains the number of gold sovereigns.

If you don’t have gold in Kerala, you find a way to acquire it, especially if you have a daughter. The easiest way is to simply go to any one of Kerala’s dozens of jewellery chain stores like Josco, Joyalukkas and Bhima; soon you’ll be able to go to the enormous, nearly complete Gold Souk Grande in Kochi, its similarity with the modernised gold souks of Dubai forming yet another link between Kerala and the Gulf states. This walk-in option is only straightforward for the upper middle class or higher, though. When the time comes for a daughter’s wedding, the majority of Malayalis have to scrimp together a couple of lakh rupees through meetings with family members close and distant, friends and neighbours, and in many cases a loan shark or two.

Naturally, the effort required in obtaining a few prized sovereigns for a dowry payment often leads to a crippling debt. If you have managed to ferret some gold away yourself, you have the option of going to a bank and pawning it to cover a particularly hard time, then buying it back later at a fixed rate. There’s also the option of home-based babus offering ‘private finances’, which are essentially the same thing – but with interest rates of up to one percent a day. It might seem like the best option would be just to let them keep the gold and have done with the debt, but as noted in this excellent article from National Geographic, Malayalis are more desperate to keep that gold than to be debt-free. Of course, if you don’t have any gold in reserve, then for many the only way to escape those mounting interest repayments is the last resort of all: suicide.

As things stand, Kerala is a state that lives and dies on gold consumption. This shiny stuff holds most of the Malayali population in its thrall, and present signs indicate that consumption will only continue to increase. If it isn’t already clear, my own stance towards it mirrors that of the American investor Warren Buffett: “[Gold] gets dug out of the ground in Africa, or someplace. Then we melt it down, dig another hole, bury it again and pay people to stand around guarding it. It has no utility. Anyone watching from Mars would be scratching their head.” What’s your view?

A list of resources used in researching this article is available in the comments.

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It’s not the last we will hear of the balance of power gradually shifting eastwards – towards emerging economies, as the western world grapples with a financial crisis of monumental proportions. But a news headline from the week gone by gives credence to that oft repeated rhetoric. At a time when corporate houses across the west are cutting down on endowments that run world class institutions like Harvard University, India’s most respected corporate honcho Ratan Tata, outgoing chairman of the diversified Tata Group, stepped in and made a splash with his $50 million gift to Harvard Business School, his alma mater.

Tata isn’t alone. Anand Mahindra of M&M made a $10 million donation to Harvard a few days ago. As did Nandan Nilekani, founder of Infosys, by signing a $5million cheque to Yale. Given that Indian corporates aren’t exactly known for their philanthropy, these are gestures that should evoke a huge sense of huge empowerment for India – a third world country having the muscle to support global institutions is not a joke after all!

But many in India probably think this is a case of misplaced generosity. Not surprising, especially at a time when education in the country is being part funded through World Bank loans and government schemes that are struggling to provide nutritious mid-day meals to incentivize children to come to school. There are other glaring statistics too that could perhaps justify how our infertile, and hopelessly outdated education system needed this money more than Harvard did. Public education in India is a catastrophe – let’s face it, and given that 90% of our graduates are unemployable, corporate India should have been all the more forthcoming with its help.

Some have been. Most haven’t!

While the Tatas mentor iconic institutions like TIFR & TISS, corporate interest in education has largely been economic and not driven by corporate social responsibility.

But should corporate social responsibility of an organization be limited to the geographic boundaries of its country, determined by poverty charts and need of funds? Or should giving a thrust to centers of excellence be an equal priority, notwithstanding the fact that some need it more than others?

Universities like Harvard are breeding grounds for innovation and talent and they ought to be supported. Every big original idea you can think of from the last decade, be it Google, Facebook or Apple has sprung from America, often from the stimulating atmosphere provided by these universities. Few Indian universities have a culture of encouraging ideas or nurturing the entrepreneurial spirit. And cheap political stunts like introducing reservations have all the more compromised their ability to excel. So it’s hardly surprising that the private sector doesn’t want to put its money in there.

I am sure the day we have an institution half as good as Harvard, Mr Tata will write a cheque for twice the amount he gave Harvard! The question is, will that ever happen?

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