The workplace is a sacred space for any young person, and this should not be different for young women. Sadly, it is. As a young woman who has faced all sorts of barbs, and non-consensual attention—I find it necessary to list the sort of ‘logic’ that comes a woman’s way. This is the sort of mind-bending triteness one hears after one has said no. It is immaterial whether the ‘no’ came as a text message, or in a soft voice, or after a drink at an office party, or in the form of a slap. It is important that the ‘no’ came. And this is what follows. These are the top five versions of bullshit.Link exchange: cheap nike air max

1. ‘You are like my daughter. How can you ‘misconstrue’ what I was doing?’ This particular line of ‘logic’ needs more emphasis. In India particularly, the canon of the ‘elderly/ older’ person is one head-boarded by patriarchy and power, and revved up by gaseous self-righteousness. I am personally tired of this line of attack. It nauseates me and challenges the very Indian notion of an elder person having more knowledge, wisdom and compassion. Every Indian middle class home has taught its sons and daughters to respect elders. As a Bengali, I touch the feet of older people, immaterial of how well I know them or my opinion on their particular intellect or capacity for wisdom. This is why the victims—or survivors—of assault by senior judiciary members—hit home so hard when they say, ‘that man was my grandfather’s age.’ It’s the worst sort of contortion of respect, when an older man twists this around to suit his brand of predatory lust. If you are like my father, then do you not understand the meaning of ‘no’?

2. ‘You are from St Stephen’s, Oxford. How can you be such a prude?’. Again, this idea needs more discussion. I am speaking for the kind of girl I am, who to borrow an awful term, works hard and parties harder, or parties hard, and works harder, depending on how I am feeling that particular weekend. There are other girls like me, call them People Like Us, if you will. When we say no, we are at the receiving end of a sort of reverse snobbery. The most common things I have heard is, ‘but you do party, why would you say no?’. The ‘no’ could have been towards dancing with a colleague, or a sexual advance. Why is my private school education, my college and university education—all described by others as elitist, insular—being used against me? I am from a demographic that is well-schooled and well-brought up, and I take pride in this. Charges of elitism, of being liberal, of being a party girl, of being permissive, being a gin drinker, or a lounge lizard—which, it is claimed, add to the perception that I in fact, should say yes—are all peripheral. I am not a poor little rich girl. None of this distracts from the quality of my mind, which is the reason I have garnered my educational qualifications, not to mention my job. If you are in fact confusing an upbringing or educational qualifications with permissiveness, that is because you have melded my personal and professional spheres together, against my wishes. You have transmuted two different paradigms, most often violently.

3. ‘The universe is telling us something/ we are meant to be soulmates/ I was waiting for you my whole life’. Various versions of this sort of poetic fallacy are bandied around cheap jordans from china. It’s a pathetic attempt at justifying the fall from grace of people who perhaps who were once respected, or at least one wanted to be neutral too. I have to re-work a Madonna song here: ‘He only sees what his eyes want to see’.

4. ‘I was drunk.’ Girls have heard this far too often, and from far too men, for it to make any sense. If men claim that they drink, and go insane, and think with nothing but their genitalia, then what can one say, apart from, dear father-type-figure, please don’t ever drink again? Actually, no. that is not even the issue. The more serious issue is, blaming disgusting lust; or romantically, quaintly constructed “insanity” on alcohol.

5. ‘I want you to do well’. This line bears no further explanation, other than it takes off from a combination of point 1 and further attempts to justify repugnant behaviour. It is however constructed to confuse the victim at the workplace. Is it possible that a man—let us assume he is a senior colleague, in a position of power—can actually want to violate a girl and wish her well? Is it possible he is like a chameleon? Do we need to give benefits of doubt when a senior, an elderly senior, says this? I’d like to bring out the analogy that I always use. If you are trying to touch me, or any other girl like me, you are stealing. You are stealing something from me, something I do not want to give you. If your harassment (any attention after the no has been said is harassment) is purely mental rather than physical, you are still stealing from me—my time, my mental peace, my right to exist as a woman in a peaceful and safe setting.

Towards a more nuanced sense of justice

I mentioned earlier that both women initially wanted probes, discussion and justice, that was internal, to use one sense of the word. Unfortunately, the word ‘internal’ has been horribly mal-aligned by Shoma Choudhary from Tehelka, because she makes the word internal sound comfortable, like a sunlit tea-party where a certain ‘misconduct’ was discussed to everyone’s ‘satisfaction’.

Nevertheless, this is an important concept. As a woman who has said no–infact, let me problematize this further—as a woman who is perceived within the lens of class, social standing, permissiveness and elitism—and having said no, I reserve the right to look for the form of justice that suits me best. Any woman does. If I want to resign from my job, because no amount of jailtime can sanitise a particular workplace for me, then that’s my call. If I don’t want to go the police, and I want my senior to be shamed within the workplace, or I want to depose only in front of a committee, then that is my call as well. None of this has anything to do with the affluence or social currency I am charged with having. It has perhaps to do with the fact that the injustice, the violation, the assault, call it what you will, came from a certain sphere. That sphere, a workplace, which should see me growing, help mould my confidence, my voice and my integrity, is a certain atmosphere. If I want my assaulter to be shamed within that stratosphere, that fraternity—one that is internal—then that is certainly, my right and my call. I don’t want this form of justice to be made into a comfortable idea.

I believe this form of justice—moral justice—needs more discussion and will enable more girls to come out, speak up, and take on life. This is why I respect ardently the women who spoke up against the retired SC judge, and for what they are standing for. I also further the need for them to have privacy, and for them to not be judged if their first response was not to file a police complaint.

Towards a better understanding of ‘strong’ and ‘weak’

In popular culture, in male protagonists who appear in film or books,  men are depicted as quirky, funny, flawed, with hubris, multi-faceted. Usually women are depicted only in two ways: as either very strong—the Feminazi-I-will-castrate-you prototype; or as dolls, damsels in distress, relying only on male agency. Reality lies in the middle. In dealing with life, sometimes one is strong, and sometimes one feels weak.

But reality demands from women, superhuman powers. We must know how to dress, how to decode a touch, how to work hard, and how to stay away from someone if we think he is creepy or wanton. It asks of us to say no, once, twice, repeatedly and continuously, mental weariness be damned. It is asking almost too much from women who have to operate in workplaces which are sexualised or simply have mendacious men in power.

I will ask this of society: allow me to be slow. Allow me to complain, as I am capable of doing so. Allow me to come to terms with assault and ask for the form of justice that suits me best. And allow me to live life like a free woman, without the reverse snobbery society throws my way.

[Picture credit: www.rediff.com]

Human girl child, 2 years old, head bashed in, with human bite marks.

Bitten. By another being, a human being.

Indeed, it was shocking. Dogs bite people. Dogs biting children are stories which will always get pride of place in newspapers. But, do people bite babies? From one newspaper’s pride of place in the ‘flyer’ position, the tragic story spread, swiftly, like a vampire’s bite, to garner massive, daily press coverage.

Since then, many facets of the story have been reported, stressed and re-enacted. The baby was a victim- bitten by, and bashed by, a teenage mother. The teenage mother herself was a victim of a purported trafficking racket. The child has siblings, also victims of an awful, exploitative adult world.

Which we learn in high-resolution photographic detail, day after day.

Each story of this baby- called Falak, and ‘battered baby’ in equitable alternates, is accompanied with a high-resolution picture. You can see the baby has been bitten, each welt lovingly captured. You can see the pathetic size of the victim, as the pictures capture the length of a body that is mostly uncovered, almost naked. You see the eyes tightly, painfully scrunched up. What you probably can’t see are her eyes wincing as cameras go off, or grimacing over a fresh photo shoot she has not sanctioned.

I want to fervently stress at this point that I am happy the press has taken up the issue of Falak with the gusto, and the outrage, it deserves. Undoubtedly, this has inflamed the police into taking action that spans many states and requires differing levels of investigation and intervention.

But surely coverage with the particular brand of moral outrage this case calls for, can be accomplished without an accompanying, high-res picture of the incapacitated victim?

If you look at your childhood pictures, you will most probably find a black and white shot of you as a baby or toddler: dimpled cheeks, dimpled arms and legs, wearing, for all purposes, nothing. That’s because we have been taught to believe that notions of privacy differ for toddlers and adults, and for toddlers and children. After a certain age, pictures of children appear in sepia tones, usually covered up in embarrassing costumes- bow ties for boys, poofy tutus for girls; but covered up all the same. There is, in the middle-class psyche, an unspoken cut-off date which dictates collectively- now is when the child needs to be covered up in all photos, and more significantly, now is when the child needs some privacy.

Possibly, this middle class cut-off line can explain why it seems to be permissible to publish pictures in high-resolution, different on most days, of a battered baby, daily. Unfortunately for Falak, she doesn’t seem to be at the magic cut-off date yet.

And then, I have to pause.

This is the same nation which gushes over the Bachchan family, which decides not to publish, sell, or otherwise ‘expose’ pictures of a new baby in their family.  This is seen as virtuous and wholesome. In the international columns, accolades have been given to the French media for not publishing pictures of celebrity children.

Why is Falak different?
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Today, there is no doubt that Falak is a celebrity, whether of her choosing or not. Undoubtedly too, her celebrityhood has been decided by reporters covering her, and the media has become her spokesperson. Does it stand to follow then, that there is to be no moderation in the particular tone adopted by the spokesperson?

It is not merely a question of the personal and private space of an abandoned child. It is also not a question of the privacy accorded to adulthood and infancy.  It is simply a case of what should be acceptable or not.  Clearly, Falak’s case stands for many why’s- underage rape, violence against women, unwanted pregnancy, trafficking. But why is it acceptable to publish invasive, aggressively taken pictures of Falak to drive home all those points- problems of which Falak is a symptom?

Even if the pictures were all taken in one day, I do not believe her now too familiar face and her battered body need to stand daily as an accurate, all-consuming representation of the violence against women.

I have searched for a moderation of view: a long shot, a blurry image, even an arty picture of a tiny hand on a pillow. And yet all I find are detailed, gruesome closeups of the tiny face and the unfortunate body. I have to wonder- what life will this girl grow up to lead, after this proprietary, unflinching watch?

I want to end on this thought: Nigella Lawson, food connoisseur, has refuted claims that photos of her with food trickling down her face, in high-res, multicolour detail, are pornographic. I wonder if Falak, and those defending her, will stop to ponder on similar questions.

Image: from bumptobaby.blogspot.in

Enter then, Hollywood’s Sherlock. He is played by Robert Downey Jr, one of my favourite actors. Robert, with his own eclectic personal history, plays flaws with a luscious relish, which explains him being a choice for playing Holmes even without the Holmesian physical attributes of beaked nose and towering height.

So there it was, at the time I went to watch the first instalment of Robert as Sherlock Holmes: he was going to be quirky, irreverent, and to use Doyle’s term, bohemian, I thought. And Robert was. He also did what Doyle’s Holmes did not do: he distractedly ran around dodging both bombs and beguiling women. The first movie was far from Doyle’s world, but it was also entertaining. For the just released Game of Shadows, I cannot even say that.

For such a Hollywoodised, bang-bang movie,  Shadows does what a Hollywood action movie sets out to do. It has well-choreographed action sequences, chases (on horses, not cars, given the period setting) the action-man’s defining USP, the sardonic one-liners in between action sequences (when Holmes declares, from an ostensible equine phobia, that it is after all 1891, and they should be able to charter a balloon). In Guy Ritchie’s Holmes, the USP is the ability of the detective to predict moves during physical fights. He also does some weird martial arts, and runs around even more than in the first movie.

Doyle’s Holmes requires the careful, sepia touch of a Hitchcock, not the frantic jabbings of action movie directors. And a lot has been said in critique of Shadows. Where is the mystery, asks one reviewer. Holmes has been converted to a ‘needy character’, says another. In all, I would say the atmospheric that defines Holmes- his vast intellect, his condescending but concise manner, and his towering method of filling his own life with himself without the slightest hint of caricature- is missing. As Watson sums up succinctly  in Valley of Fear: “Holmes had the impersonal joy of the true artist in his better work, even as he mourned darkly when it fell below the high level to which he aspired.”

So Guy’s Holmes is needy, flouncy, and decidedly more Jack Sparrow than Sherlock Holmes. Forgivable, in the vast grey chasm that lies between a director’s vision and box office formulas.

But what I cannot forgive Guy’s Sherlock is his particular brand of masochism.

In Doyle’s A Scandal in Bohemia, Holmes’ faithful companion, Watson (given fire, life, and his own charisma in the movies, which did not exist in the books) breathes reverentially of Irene Adler, the only woman who Holmes seems to ever think of: the prototype of all women, in Watson’s exclamations, “the woman”. Irene is bewitching and bottomlessly enigmatic, all the things that make good female protagonists. But she is also something else. She is intelligent. So much so that she foils the great protagonist, Sherlock, himself.  In the fictional and vast intellectual universe of Sherlock, this is what makes Irene the worthy woman- she has the smarts to hold up to Holmes. An equal then, on Holmes terms, and on his turf. This is what made her special to me.

Enter Hollywood’s Irene Adler. In both recent movies, Adler, played by Rachel McAdams is beautiful, bewitching, and enigmatic. But is she smarter than Sherlock, or for that matter, even smart enough? No. Of all the things she could have been depicted as ‘doing’, she is the oddball errand-runner of other criminal masterminds, a petty thief, and sometimes, a kinky poisoner. In Shadows, her intellectual presence is so diminutive it wouldn’t have been missed even if it wasn’t there.

To the other woman in Shadows, Watson’s newly-wedded, blonde, wide-eyed wife, Holmes behaves with the scorn reserved for a deep sea jellyfish likely to spurt venom at any given time. He chastises Watson for being married, but above all, Guy’s Sherlock indicates that all women are to be scorned at. They must fall in line with his instructions, or else (spoiler!) drown or be poisoned.

But Hollywood is often sexist. Why then, I thought, my particular derision to this unabashedly Hollywoodised series?

And Holmes is condescending, originally in Doyle’s books, and then in all the screen adaptations to follow. In the books, he treats Watson like a footstool or like a lapdog, depending on his mood, patronisingly tossing clues to Watson, after having already made the deductions himself. And this is an important point. Holmes is condescending towards men and women. In the movies however, Watson is ‘male’ enough to hold up to Holmes in the great physical tasks that Hollywood throws their way. In the first movie, Adler is competent, but on the ‘wrong’ moral side, and is left punished, handcuffed by Holmes. She uses seduction as a tool (another irritating, formulaic deviant from the original story, also observed in the TV version), and befitting that predictable movie-formula, requires rescuing.

A second reason why this annoys me is the very creation of Adler by Doyle is so cool cheap air jordans. It is rare to find a post-Victorian literary hero who acknowledges a woman as an equal because of her intellectual skill. Doyle’s Adler is witty, but not in the gay and chatty way of an Austen heroine, she is formidable, but not in the shady, criminal way she is depicted in the new movies.  She was thus, for me, a little planet in herself within Doyle’s world, a luminous planet which was often remembered, and always as self-sufficient.

The Holmes I know does not ‘perform’ rescues. He may however, be allowed to be confused by women, in the way Stephen Hawking has just said he is. Hollywood’s Holmes to the girls rescue? Not so elementary at all.

Do you care about the grandchildren of the Indian representative at the latest climate change summit? As it turns out, several do. Jayanthi Natarajan, Environment Minister got a standing ovation for her defense of India’s right to grow at Durban’ s summit, in a speech that blended personal with per capita income. Responding to Canada shunning the Kyoto Protocol, Natarajan did not shy away from making India’s position on Canada clear: ‘’I was astonished and disturbed by the comments of my colleague from Canada who was pointing at us as to why we are against the roadmap. I am disturbed to find that a legally binding protocol to the Convention, negotiated just 14 years ago is now being junked in a cavalier manner. Countries which had signed and ratified it are walking away without even a polite goodbye. And yet, pointing at others,’’ she said. The speech was capped with a suitably personal note: ‘’I too raise my voice for urgency. Climate Change is the most pressing and urgent problem for us. I too have a grandson, the son of my son. Climate Change affects us too,’’ she said.

[Image: Chris Maddens]

The Durban Summit, while not a clincher in itself, is important when seen in the sequence of climate summits—and their achievements—since the epically-hyped Copenhagen climate summit in 2009. Interventions championed prominently by India and China have contributed to the Kyoto Protocol being kept alive, despite countries like Canada. Arguably, this life is one in solid deep freeze- so far, the second commitment period for the Kyoto has been agreed upon, to commence from 2013-2017. But what action will really commence? Durban promises a roadmap for all, from 2015 onwards, to be implemented from 2020. Will countries, especially industrialised (annexe 1 countries) commit to serious mitigation action between 2013 and 2020? That’s a real question, which the brackets of international convention draft texts cannot answer.

Predictably though, opinion is divided on who is the villain, the show-stealer, and the antagonist of the piece. In a previous post, I argued that words thrown about in international climate negotiations thrive much on (intentionally) benevolent ambiguity.  Equity is such a word. In a strongly worded analysis of the Durban summit, Sunita Narain postulates how equity for India has become a bad word for rich countries. This a whole universe away from what Chris Huhne, UK Energy and Climate Secretary, suggests be the space for a developing country. Scathingly, he suggests doing away with the concept of a fragile developing country, in perhaps the same way activists like Narain are asking the developed country bloc (including truants like Canada, and as an extension, US and Japan) to discard the developed-country-outraged-at-inaction-from-the developing –world mantle. On the promoted perception of India being a deal-breaker, Natarajan remarked at a Plenary session in Durban: ‘’Many people have come told me to drop ‘legal outcome’ and have blamed India for insisting on ‘legal outcome,’ I was told this would affect the outcome process. India is not intimidated by threats. But what is this legal instrument? How do I give a blank cheque signing away the livelihood rights of 1.2 billion members of our population?’’

2. DOW withdraws sponsorship from London Olympic Stadium Wrap

Arguably, concerns over climate change have contributed most to a sense of global environmental citizenship, wherein people from different necks of the wood feel moral outrage over environmental issues that may not directly affect their spatial location. This activism is marked by a strongly felt environmental consciousness- the Lion King’s Circle of Life Analogy- but also indignation bordering on issues of justice. It was a pleasant surprise when India took a strong stand against Dow Chemicals sponsoring the London Chemicals. This wasn’t just a tepid case, like that of MEA responding sheepishly to a racial discrimination case of a Bollywood export cheap jordans from china, Shilpa Shetty—this was India garnering the courage, and a certain constructed integrity, to pull out of the Olympics if its reservations were not taken seriously. This time around, what is warming is the broad support of India’s position by international press. The Telegraph, for instance, made its feelings on Dow being a sponsor clear by going so far as to publish names of celebrities who signed a petition against Dow. Successfully, as the sponsorship has been withdrawn.

3. Greenpeace for the Win

And it certainly has been a fortnight of petition wins. Greenpeace secured a win when their campaign on ‘dirty data’ got Facebook to agree to ‘unfriend coal’. Facebook has now agreed to power its data centres with renewable energy.

4. Targeting Tigers

No such luck for tigers. This is another issue with globally felt citizenship, and as a result, ownership. But even as more donors pledge money for saving wild tigers, tigers are being killed- wined, dined, and shot-with impunity.

This piece on an open auction of illegal tiger wine is a certain kind of journalism, a fairly Western gaze on the exotic spectacle at hand. But each time you read a story like this, let yourself be outraged. Outraged because you feel the sense of familiarity, of having heard vaguely of dead tigers being more coveted than live ones. Outrage that an animal known for its insouciant, iridescent beauty, becomes a glass of timepass despite the existence of domestic and international law. And be outraged again, because India isn’t doing that much better. For instance, what is to be done with a tiger you believe is a trouble-maker? Empty not one, but 15 bullets in it.

5. A Snake for a Bribe

On a less deadly note, this fortnight has seen crime-fighting straight out of the Nagraj comics. A disgruntled snake-conservationist emptied a basket of cobras and other assorted snakes in an Uttar Pradesh office, when an official asked for a bribe. Bribe-taking mortals, beware. Read Khushwant Singh’s take on this.

One for the Road:

[Image: The Telegraph]

And finally, here is the mother of what could possibly be the origin of creepy-crawly. A huge critter, considered the world’s largest sized insect, has been found in New Zealand. This lady insect can eat carrots, so it is obviously the size of a bunny. Insect conservation roadblocks better take note!

When the whole world is watching, there’s a lot to be said for the words you use. Undeniably, international negotiations in a forum as lofty as the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) is a call for words even more discombobulated than the normal.
At most times, you would be lucky if you find the right word for the right moment. In the world of bracketed texts, disclaimers and jargon-heavy negotiations under international protocol however, much is said through ambiguity. UNFCCC’s 17th Conference of Parties is presently ongoing in Durban. Fitting then, to take a look at some of the words in international arsenal:

Ambition. Faustian allegories apart, the connotations of ‘ambitious’ are, well, ambitious. On Monday’s session on the Long Term Action, EU called for ‘bridging’ the ambition gap. Separately, Venezuela has said that options put forward by the developed world (including ideas on having a treaty outside of the Kyoto Protocol) display a lack of ambition. The negotiating bedrock in this year’s climate change summit is an ‘amalgamation document’ which combines positions from different countries. Bolivia, in a meeting to discuss this document, remarked sadly that there was a general lack of ambition being shown. Most generally, ambition would refer to a country engaging in mitigation action, which is quantifiable, and under several degrees of international scrutiny. But what is ‘ambitious’ for India? India’s interpretation would refer to actions, on climate mitigation or adaptation, which are domestically ambitious, but not internationally reviewed. Ambitious is ambiguous. It’s a word used to denote interpretations of ambition, and as one can tell, often a marked shift by countries from actually being ambitious.
Sustainable. A lot has been written on what sustainable means. Justifiably so. It’s been prefixed for life to development, officially born in the 1992 Rio Declaration on Environment and Development. Everything ought to be sustainably developing, from a corporate’s CSR initiatives, to community outreach for women’s self-help groups to Fairtrade coffee, to World Bank funded conservation plans which in the past have been more development than conservation, to United Nation’s recognised Biosphere Reserves. The bad joke is whether sustainable is sustainable. Little surprise then that sustainable development is a mainstay of the leverage sought by the developing world. At last year’s Cancun summit, India patted itself on the back for inserting the phrase ‘equitable access to sustainable development’ in the negotiating text. At Durban too, these four magic words make an appearance in the provisional agenda of COP-17. Equity, of course, is another expansive word open to interpretation. As India’s Environment Minister Jayanthi Natarajan said on Tuesday in a side event in Durban, “equity is central to the debate on climate change.” The BASIC countries (Brazil, India, South Africa, China) emblazon equity over most of their positions, though it can refer to different things. It has meant access with equity to sustainable development, and also equity in carbon space. Equity in interpretation by the developed and developing world? Hard to come by.

Evolving applicability. A new entrant on the block, this powerhouse phrase has been offered by the the biggest Kyoto-blocker, the United States. US believes that the concept of common but differentiated responsibility, a mainstay of the Kyoto Protocol, has ‘evolving applicability’. What this means could be anybody’s guess. But an educated guess would beckon at the US’s old habit of blaming India and China for the deadlock in climate negotiations. In the spirit of its old stance, the application of evolving applicability would indicate mitigation commitments from the BASIC group (who ostensibly have evolved from being part of a paltry developing country bloc), in the absence of which the US will not commit. In the same breath, it would be interesting to see what applications ‘evolving applicability’ would entail for the other real blockers of Kyoto, the JUSCANZ group of Japan, Canada, New Zealand and Australia. (Canada has declared even before the Durban summit that it is unlikely to participate in a second commitment period of the Kyoto Protocol.) How should JUSCANZ evolve? A question that needs answering, and in the spirit of international jargon, a question that needs to be answered ‘urgently’ and ‘ambitiously’, in the interest of ‘sustainable equity’ and saving the planet, within, of course, the principles of common but differentiated responsibility.

A word on the media.
On the issue of words, adjectives for India are changing. Long called a deal breaker, international press has this year called India a giant (economy). In more uncharitable terms, and not far from US insinuations on India’s role, The Guardian calls India a climate ‘delayer’, unarguably a term which is likely to gain currency by the end of the summit. This is phonetically not so far from climate ‘denier’, though that term, with all its baggage, hasn’t been used for India yet; in fact it has been used by developing country activists for the likes of JUSCANZ.
But what of the National press in India and climate jargon? A quick look reveals that mainstream media has for most part echoed faithfully India’s official positions on climate change negotiations  . Notably, these are demands from the global North in being ambitious in its mitigation, the need for equity in climate talks, and carbon space for allowing India’s national growth. The English media has passionately defended these positions since 2009’s Copenhagen climate change summit, putting forward India’s own interpretations of climate jargon. This is an interesting position, as the press has also been largely homogenous in reporting the real environmental, ecological, and social ramifications (read dangers) of climate change. Yet, its continuing passionate cries for growth, shaking off pressure from the rich, developed world, and that shining panacea- sustainable development. One issue at least, where a constructed perception of national interest has been paramount over editorial differences. Critics in the Press Council, take note.

Irritating, feminist clichés rush to my mind, with images tailored to provoke anger. Images of a sloppy so-and-so who is ‘interested’ in my life, or how I ‘maintain’ myself (to use a favourite North Indian turn of phrase). Usually, a question that comes from a well-heeled and well-bejewelled woman, speaking in barely dulcet tones.
But this is different. I am not in a drawing room full of curios, answering to cocktail conversation. I am deep in a tiger reserve, having just finished being rattled by rain-washed gypsy trails.

Ethnographic research.
The words are burnt into my mind like a banner I have to refer to, for the 8 weeks I am going to spend here, interviewing forest-dwelling communities. Well, here I am. It is 40 degrees, I feel like a warm wet sponge, dutifully dressed in what will pass as ethnographic- salwar kameez, long dupatta, covered hair.

Curious eyes, slowly forming into an alarmingly large group. It is a motley group of women and children, and they are smiling at me. Some not smiling, but their interest is enough to make me wanly smile back. And the first thing they want to know is if I am married.

“Er-no,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Just like that.”
“Well, do you have any children?”
“No?”
“Why not?’
“We have children after getting married.” (Mental note to self: I made this rather prudish statement to unsuccessfully establish I am indeed, Indian, and I am trying to be ethnographic.) It does not work. Some women leave, shaking their heads, one young sprite stays back, pointing out that she is 19, and lo and behold, here is her son.

Textbooks tell you the degree of separation between the researcher and the respondent is also data, an important consideration to keep in mind. I have also filled valuable, voluminous forms on ethics, on how the respondent should be given full information on what (not just who) I am, where I’ve come from, and possibly how I will use his answers.

Answers too, have been described- as structured and semi-structured, long-winded and direct, and a lot has been written about how to rank certain adjectives that are used cheap jordans from china, or conduct discourse analysis on certain phrases that come up. So my first question is on what makes the space in the forest a place in the forest.

“What do you like about this place?”
“I like that I am a free man.”
This wasn’t in a book, and that’s what intrigues me.
“What do you mean?”
“Jungle main janwar dolte hain, jungle me main bhi dolta hoon” (Animals meander in the forest, so do I.)
Meandering. That comes with a certain sense of ownership that’s hard to define.
I think of where I have meandered.
I have meandered in Janpath, the world’s best Flea Market, but it has often been a confused, noisy meandering. I have meandered, like all good Delhiites, at India Gate, nibbling at an icecream that’s no good. And that has been a structured meandering- between security cordons, weird kids, and attempts at not looking touristy. There’s also the delicate meandering outside the entrance of a lounge or a club, with its music doing revolutions around my head, with me wondering if it’s busy enough to walk into.

But what this man suggests is a glorious, eccentric quality—one of whimsy. He is essentially explaining to me that his forest roving experience can’t be compared to walking in a city, or in a more localized context, in the hard-pressed lanes of a local kasba.

So here is a man, explaining in one line, why he puts up with an isolated existence, no toilets, no electricity, the threat of malaria every monsoon, mountains of dung in a village which does not have the permission to dispose of the dung, no schools for his children, and a heap of stones for a road. Despite all this, he is explaining his sovereignty over his place here. A space that has only been carved two generations ago in an erstwhile game reserve.

There have to be other things too. In a forest, far from a social worker’s shriveling gaze, is the ability of these men to keep holding up traditional, patriarchal mores. Women toiling all day, fluffing rotis, wiping the bottoms of their children—and most of all, making a distinction of having 6 children by age 35 through the important accomplishment of being married. Link exchange: cheap nike air max.

Here is also this man’s ability to raise many cows and buffaloes free of any cost to him. But still, he chooses to answer the question with his right of meandering. Walking tours of Old Delhi come to mind, carefully constructed, nuanced, upholding a citizen’s right to rove, but sticking to a path that is the literal straight and narrow (and sexy). How, I wonder, will the Recognition of Forest Rights Act define this, and account for it?

Which side are you on?

In 2007, a scientific tiger estimation, spanning a majority of tiger reserves across India, estimated that Indian forests hold 1411 tigers, a mean value. This year, the second major tiger estimation, armed with camera trap pictures, tiger ‘signs’ and with another national, massive exercise, the number comes to about 1706, again, a central value. Crucially, these are numbers based on probability, simply because you can’t catch every tiger by the tail. Numbers are guesstimated through camera trap records, and by tiger signs—the number of chitals in a forest, scratches on a local tree, and scat.

The day 1706 was launched with fanfare in the Central Capital, the international press pointed out, in gleeful, emotive terms, that India may be winning the battle against tiger poachers and habitat loss. A few days later, the enthusiasm—or the opportunity for a critical appraisal of state-level conservation, which I argue such a massive exercise should engender, was gone.

Two camps are locked in a fierce argument about the validity of the exercise. One is the Wildlife Institute of India and the National Tiger Conservation Authority, who set and executed the blueprint for the new scientific estimations. The other is helmed by India’s oldest and best known tiger scientist, Ullas Karanth, who is also the head of the Indian chapter of the New York headquartered Wildlife Conservation Society. Quotes have been given to the press and papers published, on how the estimation is faulty, how data is not being shared, how the stats are wrong, and therefore the numbers cannot be trusted. With the allegations flying thick and strong—Karanth has been dubbed an old “tiger”, not wanting to give up his (scientific) territory, and Karanth has made a public statement on how the government has a “monopoly” over tiger monitoring—you can be forgiven for believing that we still have tigers closer to the 1411 mark, or no mark at all.

There are two things to remember here. The tiger estimation is not a census. It can never be, as every tiger in a landscape will never knock into a camera trap set up in the vicinity. Unlike the fables that tiger reserves spin—that you can have a “tigershow” here and a tigress-with-cubs encounter there, tigers also don’t line up to be counted by researchers. Every ‘count’ then will always be probabilistic, irrespective of the occupancy model and statistics used. The lesson to take away then, is that 1411 and 1706 are less numbers, than they are indicators.

Second, we have to think about whether we want a numbers game, a tiger race, if you will, amongst states that vary seriously on the quality of reserves. The last estimation set the tone for a battle on the state with the most number of tigers. But if 2007-08 was laced with the dregs of cold fury—Orissa, for example, claimed that it had many more tigers than the “census” showed—this year’s estimation is blistering with barbs, insults, and a media that is unsure whether it has been conned or not

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. Which should be the tiger state? Where should be the tiger Capital? Are the numbers farcical?

These are precisely the concerns we should not be having.

It is useful to debate better statistical tools and whether we are setting the right estimations. The estimation, in its current form, is also the only valuation of tiger landscapes which can show where populations are expanding/contracting at a national level. I will also argue that taking part in an estimation which is national, lends a certain accountability to highly disparate states. But a hubris on numbers can only lead to tragedy. The more the numbers are made the showpiece, the more we are missing the mark.

Estimations of a cryptic, glamourised carnivore are valuable indicators of where populations are, where conservation needs to be more focused, where more guards are needed—and given that tigers are poached without vigilance, if tiger reserves need to expand.

Also, a national estimation undoubtedly raises the aspirations—and profiles—of states who want more tiger reserves in their name. Thus Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Karnataka and Orissa have asked for one tiger reserve each, with the formalities of setting up a comprehensive conservation plan being finalised. While the scientific debates look at tiger populations as numbers that go up or down, the creation of a tiger reserve, or the willingness of a state to participate in a pan-Indian exercise, is more political and sociological.

The tiger does not sit within a scientific box, and the analysis paralysis created by quarrels over statistics need to be debated at common meetings, not in questioning, as a surrogate, the validations of conservation itself. The tiger occupies many frames, the scientific not the least of them, but its conservation is sensitive to messages from the Centre, silly competitions on which is the tiger capital, and the ultimate ‘insult’—as many states see it—of whether tiger numbers have gone down in their backyards. While we need some sense of numbers, we also need to acquire a sense of where conservation, geopolitically or otherwise, needs to take place. Any Central scheme runs the risk of being cold-shouldered by states. If Project Tiger—which always was a political/ internationally-aimed move by the Congress to establish leadership over, and ownership of, a flagship animal—is to escape that fate, it has to pick its fights well. Decentralization of the estimation has started, but like the Board exams, perhaps we need a move away from pitching solid numbers, or at least numbers as being all-important, and move towards grades. With new reserves coming up, and new areas being lost, we are in a way, starting a new report card each time, and conservation planning has to compensate, with a push—not a competition—aimed at states.

Let us take a step back. If 1706 has to mean real, sociological, biopolitical, and valued tigers, then we need to go back to what the estimation was to do—guide policy and administrative co-operation, not unleash un-counted paper tigers.