Plagiarizing Professors and Pirating Populations - I

(Disclaimer: The incidents described below are liberal mix of fiction with personal experience. Its a kind of based on a true story where the gaps in the story have been filled in with liberal dramatizations. Any coincidences with reality are, of course, purely intentional.)

Scene 1: May 2, 1999

S****** F****** was typing fast late in the light. The New Salem lights were dim outside. He had to submit his assignment in a few minutes and he had not even looked at the figures. Even if he had looked, he had precious little time to figure out anything.

The case-analysis was of the legendary 'Netscape's IPO'. Unlike the usual Harvard cases that start with a tensed executive staring philosophically out of the window, this one came straight to the point. Netscape wanted to get an IPO out. They had never made any money. All other sources of finance were dry. They decided to approach the stock markets. And dotcom gold diggers on wall street wanted the stock more badly than ever......

So, the question was what should be the price of a Netscape share. It primarily highlighted the difficulties faced in valuing a company where you know next to nothing about the company or the industry's future.

'God, thank you for creating excel with the drag and copy feature for the formulae', he thought as he put in his assignment for the day. For a 10 minute job, the excel could not have been better. However, it lacked any fundamental correlations with reality. A sane mind, with one reading of the case, could do no more than keeping hitting the delete button in frustration - hopelessly trying to eliminate all memory of the horrible effort.

Perhaps the professor will not actually verify the figures. Perhaps no one will look at the excel sheet. After all, you could have justified everything......

Scene 2: Between May 2, 1999 and June 4, 2007

Professor J****** W***** was sitting in his office gazing philosophically at the boston snow outside, imagining himself as the hero of a Harvard case study. An imperceptible sigh escaped his breath as he found himself battered with the meetings of the day. The case at the edge of the table caught his glance.

'Why did Netscape have to come out with that IPO. More so, why did they actually think someone could value it. Perhaps they wanted to enhance your number juggling skills......... does it really matter? Enough people can take care of these trifles without me wasting time over it.'

In another room, the screen of the TA jingled with a 'you have got mail' sign. The TA had actually recieved two mails. The first one confirming his evening out and the second one from the professor.

'What does that slave-driver want now? Another one of those stupid assignments with reams of excels and arbitrary powerpoints.'

As he gave a long look to the six pages of IPO pricing difficulties, it dawned on him that he would have to cancel that date. But perhaps there was some hope. The irony was not lost on him as he plugged on his netscape to search 'previous opinions' on the case. And he hit paydirt......... F*******.xls . A whole excel, with the the numbers crunched and digested. It looked a bit rough on the edges but any checking would only waste time.

Virtually anything under the sun could be written and argued for. Who's gonna read it anyway!

CTRL C and CTRL V with a little know-how of IPO underpricing, make for a good 4 slide ppt and a saved date.

Scene 3: August 3, 2007

'Triskaidekaphobia!' - exclaimed the t-shirt in and around Hostel 13 at II* L******. The grounds outside smelled of the fresh Lucknowi showers. A host of bugs pursued the incandescent lamps everywhere, mistaking them for the moon.

In one room of that hostel, a group of 5 students was pondering over the future of the cement industry. At least trying to, in the sultry dampness of a rainy monsoon.

Suddenly, another one torpedoed into the sage meeting, oblivious to all serenity. He was obviously excited.

I got a google. It's done by a professor. Some J*** W****. I don't think we need to check it.

The relief in the voice was palpable. It amounted to saving one more hour. They really needed that, if not for themselves, then for the cement industry. But all of them were not equally ethically challenged.

Abey excel toh bana le! (At least make the excel!)

The chiding remark ricocheted of the room walls. An eerie silence prevailed. Ethical uncertainity and the cement industry, the devil and the black sea - the choices were not very pleasing.

I have read the case. I have practically followed netscape from then on to its present avatar as FF. You can make an argument for any price. Change the growth rates here, the discount rates there and you can have a figure from 15-50. It's not worth spending any time over...

But the argument was not pervasive.

Then it's even better! The excel will not take more than 10 minutes.

The new entrant was tired, defeated. He retreated. He might as well as confirm the numbers with the case. He picked up the case and started checking the excel sheet. And then, he saw what S******* F****** thought no one will.

WTF!!

The story would have ended here, but it did not.

Scene 4: August 4, 2007

'WTF!!'

Expletives are not the most common words one mouths in class. But today was a groundbreaking day. A day which shook beliefs and reaffirmed the worst fears. A day which answered, 'Yes, the sky is breaking down and its gonna fall on you' and 'Yes, everyone is out to get you'.

It had all started with yesterday's announcement in class.

He's gone mad!

People will not read even one!

How will he complete it in 75 minutes ?

These were some of the sentences being bandied around the previous day. The voices were as incredulous as they were distressed. Some bright soul of a professor, going around by the name of A*** G***, had decided to give Harvard a run for its money.

Harvard pioneered the case study method. We will now teach them how to F*** Forward with case discussions.

These were his thoughts. OR perhaps he had an essential faith in their collective incompetency, which prompted the projection that there will be no discussion. There was no other reason why a sane individual would assume that 4 cases can be analyzed and discussed in a 75 minute class. The cases were small, but pretty complex in themselves, as in no one could precisely pinpoint even the issues involved. How do you predict for example, what valuation was correct for Netscape?

The group from Hostel 13 were sitting in the class with the new, modified, corrected and embellished solution. All thoughts concentrated on Netscape now. It was not perfect but was as near perfect as the group could take it.

Group * , can you make the presentation

The feeling of relief was as deep as it was imperceptible on all faces except of Group *. They had been called on to deliver judgment.

Dot com companies.. Business Model... IPO pricing.. blah.. blah

The torpodoing retreater of hostel 13 was sitting in this class. A sudden smile passed his lips as he saw the xls. He could not believe it. Yes, it was modified. It was clean of all mistakes. But the assumptions. They were unmistakably close. Others had done the same thing he had tried to attempt in his hostel, he mused. Hail Google! The source of one. The source of all. A patina of relief masked his face as Group * ended and A*** G*** started speaking.

Hopefully, a sane solution. Let's hope we get to learn here.

The mouse pointer moved towards the file. He could hear the click when it was selected and opened. The bits moved from the cpu to the projector at approximately the speed of light. From there to 70 pairs of eyes, they moved at the speed of light. The ones and the zeros arranged themselves to form a comprehensible display of numbers on screen. The optic nerve raced through with the numbers to the frontal cortex. The temporal lobe accessed the decidedly short term memory. As the excel sheet opened, his face lost all colour.

WTF!!

That was not the only or even the first expletive brought in by the excel sheet. This xls, the one the professor had brought to class was not even modified or corrected. It took time to sink in.

Ye bhi! (Him too !)

Hurried glances were exchanged throughout the class. Everyone knew what was wrong. They had spent the whole day trying to correct it!

And then the class attacked. If S***** F****** would have known 70 pairs of eyes were gonna go into a deepdive analysis of his excel, perhaps he would have been careful with the drag and drop. Or perhaps, J*** W****'s TA would have missed his date if he had witnessed the slaughter. The prof had not expected anyone to actually read the case. The tension was reflected in the beads of sweat on his face. The humiliation was evident as the case was dismissed hurriedly to be looked on at later (meaning never). He wondered, perhaps like all criminals do, when caught red-handed.

How do they know!

As the class exchanged smiles, they understood the unspoken fact. Everyone knew. Everyone read. Everyone googled.

(Some links which might be of interest:

http://www.wfu.edu/~palmitar/Law&Valuation/Papers/1999/FREITAS.XLS

http://www.wfu.edu/~palmitar/Law&Valuation/Papers/1999/freitas.html

http://web.cba.neu.edu/~jwelch/PPT/Netscape%20IPO.ppt

)

Who created Valentine's Day ?

It was the last year at school. And it was Feb 14. Pretty awful. I passed out into phases of immense chagrin when I heard of friendship day, valentine's day, mother's day, father's day, doctor's day, engineer's day, poodle day, alarm-clock-that-never-rings day broken-needle-eye-with-unpassable-thread day....It was the one of those days that day. Hell! It was one of those days everyday now! It was difficult to find a normal Sunday or Monday in the calendar. And its not specifically easy to remember 365 different day names.

The class yesterday was not quite as interesting as I wanted it to be. The prof was saying something about exchange rates and then something about Tony Blair. Tony Blair has no currency left... That was about the only thing my mixed up mind could make out.

Why? Why is this happening ? Get me the old calendar back. Whole worlds of emotions were being compressed and done away with on single days. Wanna say thanks to your mother. Wish her on Mother's Day! That's it! You have done your job. You are a great son to have, she will surely tell herself. Why is this happening?

Tony Blair surely had enough money. He must have got that for the article he wrote in the economist. The prof was appreciating it for the third time now. I hope the economist did not pay profs...

How are people able to remember all of these days. Who was the brilliant (and masochistic) enough to inflict this pain on humanity. The world was going beyond my miniscule IQ, when I suddenly hit upon it.. It was not that great, but in school days, I really thought I did make a discovery and it made a lot of sense.

I saw a handout nearby. An interview of Anil Moolchandani. Someone was obviously sleeping in the marketing class. It was an interesting interview. Always listen to your customers, was the age-old marketing or rather business mantra I remembered. Can it be true the opposite way ?

I would gleefully go around asking people,

"Who created Valentine's Day ?'

An nonplussed answer would often be "St. Valentine", "The western world", "A pair of queasy lovers","A pair of queasy lovers with lots of spare time", "A pair of queasy lovers with lots of spare cash", "Who cares!"...... and so on.

Can a business shape consumers. Perhaps yes. Perhaps no. No sociologist today can deny the the impact of marketing on modern consumerist societies. Give the consumer what he wants.. or perhaps you can even tell him what he wants. I proceeded to a specific question in the interview...

Perhaps one answer was close.. however, I would soon delightfully scream "You are wrong! Guess what ? It's Archie's and Hallmark!" (Yes I know I turned cynical pretty early on. No need to rub it in!)

How are you planning to achieve the vision you have set for the Company?
We would like to be what we are - the leader for years to come. We will be responsible for creating occasions, so that people will find a reason to greet each other and keep in touch.

I would receive an amused smile and would smile in return. We lived in the marketer's world.

Mr Anil Moolchandani, Chairman-cum-Managing Director, Archies Ltd... I smiled as I remembered the last year of school..

A sense of deja vu...

The morning came with the afternoon sun. At 11.00 am almost, with my neighbour waking me up. 'I think you had a talk to attend, Ajit Balakrishnan.' Looked at the watch and realized the benefits of being battle-ready for such eventualities. Sleeping with your jeans on and having a pack of mint nearby can crunch the 'getting-ready' time to less than five minutes.

The talk was not worth a miss. Came with a quite a few doubts about the future of Indian BPO. But that calls for a separate post altogether. This post is about something else. It's about the possibilities that an Indian mind is ready to explore, sometimes with not the most honourable of intentions. Anyway, as I entered my room and picked up the toothbrush, my eyes lazed away to the day's anchor in TOI.

The lazed glance quickly metamorphosized into paper-grabbing interest. Hazy memories of recent times fought their way up, cutting through a mindful of wasteful thoughts.

"These coins are so heavy, you could make a profit if you just sell the steel!" I could remember my father's comment, though neither he nor anyone else quite accepted it as a practical business proposition. And whaddya know! Someone really turned into a business proposition. This is one cost of inflation I have never found in any macroeconomics textbooks. Of governments losing money by actually making it!A fine example of entrepreneurship if there ever was one. Of making possible what the mint of UK believes to be a frightfully difficult task for the common man. Of course, it also more than underscores the respect we have for stability in the current processes.

To actually capitalize on this stray thought process also tells us of the eager anticipation with which we look for holes in the system. Any and every way of governance and societal existence is open to total and unconditional exploitation. Sometimes, this leads to random sequences of ill-defined, unrepentant growth. On most other occasions, this effort at entrepreneurship ensures the preclusion of logical comforts which a human being should be entitled to enjoy. While I do not dream of Utopia, rightly known as the land which does not exist, I do wish for some laws which allow one the right to exercise an iota of judgment. Regulatory authorities being already aware of the general directions of the predisposition of this leniency, already acquire a non-surprising reluctance to provide any leeways from the bureaucratic juggernaut.

[Don't exactly know what I had in mind while writing this post, but I guess a publishing a half-written post is better than not publishing one. Dunno if the ending line is what I really wanted to say, but what the heck1 ]

To think we are proud of having the largest constitution in the world. Does it not, atleast in one sense, indicate that we are also the least law-abiding citizenry of the law-abiding world!

Mythological Motivations

Let me say I am weak at mythology. All my experiences with Indian mythology are limited to the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, Nandan (a Hindi Children's monthly), Chandamama, B.R. Chopra, Ramanand Sagar and Anant Pai (rather Uncle Pai!). Introductions with Norse and Greek one's are further constrained to the odd articles here or there and the occasional stories found in folk-tale collections.

Still, there are some mythological characters that just stick on you. Some, who while lurking in the background, away from the great heros, present a fundamental heart wrenching reality in their own microcosm. Be it Astavakra, Eklavya, Jatayu... they are the ones who often steal the show. While the great events often adapt themselves as phrases in the normal language, its the small characters that many a time remain sketched in minds and memories, reminding, reinforcing in a sacrosanct way what you always knew.

One such character I came across while in school was that of Icarus. One of the first few and one of the only characters I remember from greek mythology. But the story then had immediate implications for me. It is not uncommon for a child to disobey his parents. But to learn of the fatal implications of such an act, could bring rude shocks. Insubtly. My very first feelings for the character were pity. He knew the follies of venturing near the sun or the damp, there was no tangible benefit which attracted him there. But he travelled, he went right upto the sun, right till he had no feathers to fly. I had left the story there, sympathising, living with the character etched in my memory.

As I came across the character a little recently quite by accident, I was reminded of my first encounter. But the emotions which the story evoked, were not the same. What Icarus displayed to me was a fundamental lack of rationality. An irrationality that can be linked from global warming to the next promotion. It tells you why a child risks disobeying his parents at the risk of a spanking. It displays an an irrationality that pervades most of our problems and defines most of our solutions.

When was the last time you ate that last chocolate cake knowing its not good for diabetics, when was the last time you overslept, procrastinated, stayed up late at work for that promotion, ignored global warming to be problem of the future while starting that car. I don't profess to know why you did this, but certainly, if you have ever exchanged a small short-term gratification for a long-term loss, you know why Icarus travelled to the sun.

[continuing another half written article - completed and published on 28th May 2.48 a.m.]

Irrationality and immeasurability in the world of the defined, rational and measurable is what keeps us human perhaps. Research(links would be provided if asked for), has shown that most gifts are overpaid for and represent a waste of money. Given the option what would you like, money splurged on expensive gifts or drab demand drafts.

Imagine for a second a world in which Icarus does not ever fly to the sun, imagine the world where we don't take risks, imagine a world with no global warming, imagine nuclear disarmament, no hunger, no unplanned chocolate cakes, no surprise gifts, no Edisons and Teslas, no imagination, no mythology, no motivation. A world devoid of discoveries and filled with improvisations. A world that runs with six sigma precision, a utopia.. a dystopia.

What Icarus stands for is recklessness, a playful spirit of disobedience, a capacity to take risks, a carefree spirit that lives for the moment! Even at the risk of life itself...

The Profanities of Existence

A desire to uniquely place myself undergoes the ritual daily manifestation. Whenever I get my overly large posterior off from the mattress and manage to get the bulging adipose away from the quilt. It takes effort to bear the chilly morning and see your watch telling you that the time has passed for lesser (and slower) mortals to reach the class today. It is that time when the desire is strong, a desire to transcend beyond the immediate needs and requirements – the profanities of existence. A desire to weave eloquence in the undertones of getting up, brushing your teeth, forgetting to comb your hair and rushing to the class, missing the lecture for the nth time this week (Actually its only 5 times a week, but n shows better effect!) . It is then that reality dawns. Transcending the daily routine and wishing for something higher might take more of my time but I realize the HR issues plaguing my life. As the day passes that I seriously realize the need to employ someone other than the full-time employed Mr. Nobody who takes care of all my chores presently.

Wishes to transcend do not translate the wishing away to physical reality. As I aim for the higher purpose (All I think of is high! I practice it too. You really have to see the pile of junk in my room to see that I only believe in things going up), I realize mundanities have made it a habit to hamper solitary contemplations. Soliloquies on what I would do in the absence of quotidian demands on my precious seconds. Perhaps someday, I will get down to finding time for it. Someday I will read the pile of BS (that’s Business Std., what did you think?) lying on the cupboard. Someday I will even get that list of papers I wanted to check out, perhaps even write those DVDs and get some of the laundry done. If I am really lucky, perhaps my 7-book strong book collection will get some much needed dusting. Someday my table will not resemble the eternal dumping ground of all things torn and wasteful.

I discern a few words now and then: costs, processes, culture, equity, value-chain, realignment - the words fly by as I try to catch hold of them. Some of them just come by to spite me I think, to make me realize the futility of getting Mr. Nobody off the job. That fellow has unreasonably high replacement costs. Life goes on, on autopilot. There is the steering wheel somewhere around nearby, but when no one’s holding it, it’s a bit difficult to exactly pinpoint the location. And autopilot is comfortable. You even get to say, you enjoy the moment, that you see the present as a gift. Even put on display some other remarkable facets of imbecile wordplay. To put on the greatest spin, perhaps I can even correlate it in a Calvinistic fashion (the only Calvin I know is from Calvin and Hobbes) to building character. The higher the time it takes you to dig out that Kotler, the more is it a test of your tolerance and perseverance and the more is your inherent ability to withstand stress and the onerous responsibilities of physical labour. The daily effort in finding a place to sit, to lie down is enough to keep one on one’s edges in a character-building roller-coaster.

I do not wish to belabour the point, but it also indicates altruism of character that distinguishes a benevolent personality. Consider this, the total amount of junk in the world is going to remain constant. And if I fill more junk in my room, I make the rest of the world cleaner. If not absolutely, then atleast relatively in a Birbalesque fashion of making a line seem smaller by drawing a longer one next to it. If my room serves as a reference point, most people would be praising the excellent civic spirit of cleanliness in the city of Mumbai.

And think about the drive for cleanliness I spread around. Consider the inspirations and ramifications of the piles of plenty that permeate my room. The day is not far when case-studies on waste management will advise whom not to emulate. ‘Clean it up!’ speech sessions (to be inspired after an inspection of my humble abode) will quote me as example on for a possible futuristic scenario.

Again, to start cleaning up now for worldly ostentation would only show a cheapness of spirit and lowliness of thought. It would be plain and simple cruel to the environment. My room has generated its own healthy little ecosystem. A couple of lizards, incidental mosquitos and a variety of visitor insects dot all corners, building their homes, carrying out their whole life-cycles. Think of the decorations of the spiders, the intricate webs – to destroy them all in one ruthless stroke of maniacal sanitization, would rob the world of its colour and vibrancy. I simply do not have the heart enough to do it.

By the way, to all those on a perpetual cleanliness drive, I would just repeat the old cliché – Cleanliness is next to Godliness. Only next……

First Term at L

The glass mellows, filters, numbs the intensity of the noon sun. Any sounds extrinsic to the coach face a no-entry as they try to board. The temperature is artificial as might be many things inside. It feels insulated. It is insulated, reinforced insulation. The wheels turn fast, kissing the tracks, holding on to them. I move homeward.

As the sounds die and the sights vaporize, the reflections start. A term is over. A short term as defined by time. Twelve weeks. A long term, if the added factor of it being the first term at a B-school like IIML is considered. A lot has happened and will continue happening, the details of which I will capture better in another spick and span new blog. As for the B-school, suffice to say, they make sure you are sure you look good even though you don’t have time to check your condition in the mirror.

Night-outs were a culture in engineering too. But the sole basis of being an owl was simply missing out on studies for six months in the hope of the one night. But you always had the option of sleeping. A B-school however screams blasphemy if it finds any student indulging in the pleasures of slumber. Any time spent in salutions to the Goddess of Sleep only seems to imply that you have no other work to do. When most nights are night-outs you don’t call them night-outs any more. It slowly peels off any layers of innocence and tolerance extant on the soul of an incoming fresher.

As I mulled on the jargonized common sense presented by organizational behaviour, my as yet untrained mind tried to comprehend the convolutions of the legal language. The joys of accounting and the intricacies of Quantitative Analysis conspired as they waited in ambush while CGI was getting impatient, waiting for its chance to overwhelm in conjunction with OM.

As days passed, the number of projects I have worked on till date saw a 200% increase. From gender inequalities at the workplace to the economics of the telecommunications industry, from documenting the process improvements at Gortrac to demystifying the financial statements of Classic Diamonds, everything worked together burdening my proportionately tiny intellect.

In retrospect, I can say that life till now has been action-packed and will continue to be so for the near future. It starts like a gentle breeze, slapping you on the wrists. Slowly, by the degrees, it turns into a mini-tornado engulfing you and tossing you around and leaving you pretty dumbstruck, whenever you are given a chance to peek out that is, that you have actually managed surviving till now.

You can read about life at a B-school, you can wonder about it, you can perhaps even analyze it to tiny details, but as they say you ain’t knowing it till you actually experience it!

What I miss in IIML

I read a newspaper today! For one whole hour!

Here at IIML, this statement would signify nothing less than a momentous achievement. And this is what I miss second most here (The first being home cooked food!). The delicious joy of following the intricately constructed arguments about 'national interest' and losing yourself in the reams of paper expounding the 'intellectual underpinings' of this 'great democracy'. Yup, I am speaking of the unadulterated pleasure of following the nation's politics. Its something I have really begun to miss. Chronically humour depreived would be a precise description of my state now. For those who have never experienced the pleasure of indulging in political specatatorship, allow me to explain.

Reading politics and better still watching it is unbelievably entertaining. Some of the most unintentionally hilarious moments on television have been on the live telecast of the Lok Sabha in session. On another level, it also appeals and invigorates all the dormant pious instincts that you may have preserved to this day. After all, divine intervention is the only plausible reason that the national framework still stands. If you have never seen the parliament in session, let me share some enriching experiences:

It was the question hour of parliament and a backbencher was questioning the telecommunications minister. I was surfing channels and the words 'UMTS' and 'WCDMA' caught my attention.

'What would be government's policy with regards to frequency allocation for emerging technologies like UMTS and WCDMA?' (This is not the exact question, but the gist as I remember it.)

I was surfing channels and the words 'UMTS' and 'WCDMA' caught my attention. Being an electronics engineer who had spent nights framing SoPs on how he would like to contribute to 4G technologies, I was surprised to the point of stupefication that such things were actually discussed in the Lok Sabha. My immensely mistaken impression then connected the sole utility of this structure as a primary medium for slogan shouting, walking out and congregating in the well. The minister started replying and I did not have to work too hard at restraining my newfound sense of awe:

"We will leave it to the market forces. (some non-specific generalized sentences).The government is not going to discriminate between CDMA or GSM."

I rolled over the statement in my head. Surely, there was something missing. But the backbencher was satisfied. And I was hooked. Enlightenment. The arcane mysteries of policy making started unravelling around me. I looked up the telecom minister's website. His astute discriminating worldview emerged perhaps from the years he spent studying economics. A degree in economics, ofcourse, eliminates the need to fiddle around with trivial acronyms of dubious utility. I also saw his 'vision plan' for leapfrogging directly to 4G.

And I cried after that. My head bowed in respect to the unparalleled efforts of the Indian decision makers towards providing comic relief to a saas-bahu laden TV scenario. From then on, perhaps as a mark of appreciation for this effort, I caught up with the parliament broadcast whenever I could. And day after day, this belief of mine was reinforced!

An angry Somnath Chatterjee and the honourable MPs teasing him. These were lessons in stress release that I will never forget. To blend a childlike unrestrained mirth with the travails of policymaking was exemplified in their behaviour. Again there were a few spoilsports like BhairavSingh Shekawat who managed to enforce an superficial discussion and suppress these natural instincts, but thankfully they kept their hands off the Lower House.

And speaking of Unity, this is where you see the best examples. Infact, this is one place where you actually learn that walkouts and protests are a better idea than discussions in the parliament. The second event I remember during the sombre and worklike mood of the parliament (the first being my brushes with 3G and 4G) was in the days before the introduction of the 93rd constitutional amendment Act. It was a BJP MP who raised the issue of the 'deprieved' classes being not able to secure their rightful place in private institutes. It was a UPA minister who answered the concern with plans to bring about a Constitutional Amendment to correct this 'injustice' (became famous some months later as Mandal II). To this day whenever I hear the Congress and the BJP harping the same tune, I often start sweating!

This visual vividity of perennial laughter is what led me further to explore the vicarious pleasures of the recorded words - the saved records on the Parliament of India website. And it was remarkable. Yes.. there was mine to dig but the tireless were rewarded with true jewels. Like on the debate on uniform civil code, a recorded argument against uniform civil code - 'Shariah is the word of God and no one can challenge it'. And for all those hounding Advani for his Jinnah remarks (for the lesser educated, he praised Jinnah's secular vision for Pakistan based on a speech of Jinnah), the Indian constituent assembly actually praised Jinnah's spirit which led him to carve out the state of Pakistan. No this is not my interpretation. It is present in those many words! (A link would be provided if asked for!)

And now I miss that. IIM Lucknow has led me away from the intellectual joys of ineffectual democracy. From the puppet prime minister and the 'progressive' leftist opposition to the 'supportive' rightists and the IIMAed Lalu, I no longer can enjoy their unique attempts at public service. We certainly do not have the best politicians in the world as part as governance is concerned, but when it comes to public entertainment, its a challenge to come up with better.