India’s deathly dance with intolerance

I read an op-ed on Quint (an Indian publication) this morning, titled ‘Why India should not forget the murder of Graham Staines'. Staines was an Australian missionary who was burnt to death by a mob in Manoharpur, Orissa, along with his 2 sons, 7-year old Phillips and 10-year old Timothy. The mob was led by Dara Singh, with links to the Bajrang Dal, a fringe political outfit known for inciting communal violence. Their crime was leaving the comforts of their native land, and making India their home, among the most disenfranchised in society. The Staines family had opened a leprosy home among adivasis, literally washing the sores of those rejected by their own communities. The event sent shock waves throughout the country, and awakened Christians to the fragility of the much-touted fabric of co-existence. 

India has been for the longest time, proud of being a secular democracy, and most leaders of repute have at least paid strong lip service to the values of tolerance and the right to practice and propagate religion, without threats or interference from the government. For the first time, in a long time, things are changing with rapid intensity. 

I was born and raised in Mumbai, and as a first in my memory, saw a policeman posted outside my church on Christmas. There has been a ferocious increase in the crimes against minorities, including Muslims, since then. Muslims, who have had a far more tenuous history with co-existence in India, have been beaten to a pulp, or brutally killed for the mere offense of consuming or storing beef. On occasion, the meat did not even turn out to be beef. 

Of late, crosses are being torn out, churches vandalized, and pastors beaten. What used to happen in the cover of dark, now happens brazenly in daylight. The nefarious elements of society have come crawling out of the woodwork, emboldened by the blatant and unapologetic Hindutva agenda of the BJP government that’s in power. The Prime Minister is deafeningly silent on violence against Christians and does not use the power of his office to dissuade the same group of people who are also his vocal and staunch supporters. 

I wish I could say my countrymen are outraged and are demanding answers from their elected leaders. Apart from the minority commission, and a few opinion pieces, there are no booming voices. I listened with shock as a colleague dismissed reports of persecution against Christians, as being overblown and not a big deal in reality. People have a right to their own opinions, they even have a right to their own prejudices, but not to their own facts. When we can’t even operate from a baseline of truth, reasoned engagement is no longer possible. 

A recent report described the plight of a group of people thrown in jail in Madhya Pradesh who only crime was to go out caroling on Christmas night. According to Open Doors’ World Watchlist, released in January 2018, India now ranks 11th in the world among countries where Christians face extreme persecution, faring only better than Iran. Those sharing the ignominy? Such luminaries as North Korea, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq and Yemen. It is a tragic blot on the country’s reputation, a travesty of our legacy, and yet nobody from the political class is bemoaning the sordid state of affairs. In 4 short years, persecution has become par for the course. 

As Indians, we must realize that a government that stands for and protects the rights of minorities, will also be in the best interest of the majority. Nations elect leaders who are a reflection of their values. We didn’t rail against the government when they encroached on press freedom, individual liberties, on the right to peaceful protests, or even the basic right to eat what we please. 

So now, our nation has ended up getting the leaders we deserve. 

#Quint #Persecution #India #Christians #Minoritycommission #OpenDoorsWorldWatchlist

Your favorite TV show could reveal a lot about you

I have never been a fan of television. I’ve preferred books, always. The TV shows I’ve enjoyed usually have an information-rich quality to them. 

Recently, in the Netflix age, I began binge-watching ‘Bones’. It’s a series with a brilliant forensic anthropologist as its lead. She’s the foremost expert in the world in her field, and she knows it. She is teamed up with an empathetic FBI agent, and together they solve perplexing crimes. Rallied to the cause, is a group of super nerds, equipped with state-of-the art technology in the Jeffersonian, a prestigious Washington D.C. medico-legal laboratory. There’s a nerdy botanist/chemist/entomologist, a talented artist cum computer savant, an impressive coroner, and a freakishly smart group of interns. 

Each episode pays spectacular attention to detail, each frame is rich with specifics, and the 40 minutes are held in a taut, fast-paced narrative. You come out of each episode appreciative of the realism that is conveyed, even when the events seem bizarre and often feature chilling murders, and grotesque criminals. 

Through all this, there is a back story to each of the lead characters. It plays out naturally, like the white noise from an air conditioner, without too many jarring peaks or troughs. It does depict tragedy, heartache, devastation, pain and loss, true to portraying real life, but it does not overpower the scientific temper of the show, nor its tight focus on the interplay between the skills of the characters. 

#Bones ran for 12 seasons, a rare feat for a series. When I finished the last episode, it was as if I lost a friend. 

In comparison, Grey’s Anatomy similarly, had a really long run. I began watching it a few years ago, in anticipation of the medical theme of the show. I liked all things Biology and felt drawn to the terminology, the techniques, the discussions. But a few seasons in, the medicine took a backseat to the personal drama of the characters. In a few short seasons, characters were routinely dying, being killed, thrown out of airplanes, involved in mass shootings, without any signs of catching a break. In other words, it became too Shonda Rhimesy. I let go. 

Obviously, I’m not suggesting one’s choice of a TV show can be used to draw up a psychological profile. But it got me thinking as to why I enjoyed one show and discarded the other, which was a far bigger commercial hit, with more characters becoming pop culture references. 

Maybe it says something about me. A preference for logic, analysis, realism, and an impatience with melodrama, pulp, and incredulity. Maybe my conclusions are flawed. 

                                                                                              #popculture #psychology

Unsocial media: The stranglehold of the modern feedback loop

I was blown away by the recent comments made by Chamath Palihapitiya, a former Facebook executive, expressing guilt over his contribution to the impact of social media on society. It’s rare for an insider, particularly a wealthy beneficiary of the product he helped turn into a giant, to reflect on how it’s changed human dynamics for the worse. 

Prior to him, other notable names have come out and ‘revealed’ what many of us instinctively understood - the dopamine rush we experience from receiving feedback when we share moments of our lives online. Humans thrive on the approbation of their fellow beings. It has always been that way, except now, we seek more and more stimuli not only from friends and family, but from the world at large. Social media understands our psychology and exploits it. 

This came home to me, when I came across an explanation for how Twitter has us hooked. When I log into Twitter, the first thing I notice, is the notification icon, which shows how many people have liked or retweeted my content. There was always a slight lag in the popping up of the number of notifications. I made nothing of it. Turns out, the lag is completely intentional and not a glitch that needs a fix. Twitter keeps you tentacled and eagerly expectant as you wait for notifications to show up, not unlike addiction to substances. 

No one is immune from the effects of using social media, since we are wired to desire physiological rewards like the dopamine release. Even realizing the harm that excessive exposure brings, does not do us much good, since we do not want to risk being isolated from a world where more and more transactions, commercial or social are conducted online. 

I wanted to set a day apart this week to reflect and mediate, but grew restless and began reaching automatically for my phone. It’s simply the default response now to an idle minute - mindlessly checking content on the phone. 

I believe I’m a measured and controlled user of social media - I resist the urge to post more than the occasional picture, and thus feel relatively insulated from the desire to check the number of thumbs and hearts and smiles and comments. Detachment should have come easier to me, yet, I found myself reaching for the phone.

I posit that our online habits have a real effect on our real-world behavior. I’ve seen parents create social media accounts for their babies, with glowing pride, recklessly chaining their children to their own false sense of worth. Far too many are obsessed with presenting a rose-tinted view of their lives, triggered by wistfully gazing at others’ filtered images, commingling reality with delusion.  

It’s easy for anyone with a smartphone to catapult to 15 minutes of fame, so we all feel like we deserve a shot. The anonymity of the internet allows us to give free rein to our worst instincts, its reach makes pundits out of couch dwellers, its filters allow us to brush out scars and defects.

Broken homes, shattered dreams, pained hearts, and spurned hopes do not make for good uploads. So, every once in a while, just disconnect. Get off the grid. Stop building your identity through your online persona. Don’t be bowled over by the sepia posts of your friends and co-workers. Strive to be firmly grounded and deeply rooted to reality.  

Enjoy the benefits of social media with a loose hand. When you do, it cannot get a grip on you. 

Don’t let’s confuse hashtags with happiness.