For a malayalee, Dubai with it’s dreams is an integral part of our culture, a place that has rescued many malayalees from abject poverty who in turn not only uplift their families but also socio-economically improve the state’s resources. It’s no less a promise to fortune for the malayalee underdog than the “American Dream” and no less a boost up the marriage-ratings system for a gulf-return than our “Babus”.

At least that was the state some years back…

Of course, there were stories of swindling, toil and worker abuse (*slavery* loses out on accord of it’s historical connotation to be used here). But they could be conveniently brushed under the rug for the ROI they provided. Convenient, at least for families and friends. After all, what is being cooked at 55 degree heat in a wok-sized room with 12 disgruntled decaying fellow-workers, if it pays for some food on the table, a sister’s wedding, few maidservants (who pass along the storied legacy to their children in hope of a rescue), a palatial house and fodder for countless stereotypes.

Dubai seems to be in shambles today, seeking desperate help from its neighbors. Numerous reports had dropped unmistakable hints, so it shouldn’t be a surprise. If the economic elements weren’t enough, there were enough indicators via deplorable human conditions. The latest, an article in the Independent, The Dark Side of Dubai is a superb dissection of what makes Dubai work, why it’s impossible to fathom that it works, yet why it box-jumped a few generations of progress.

Unfortunately, as stereotypes and facts go, the poor malayalee would be the most concerned of the lot.

The Sardar Sarovar Project is one of the most shining examples of the adverse effects of a state’s aggressive developmentalist policies, unfortunately chronicled in the destroyed lives of the farmers affected in the adjoining areas. Despite all the protests, and living evidences of the progress double-standard, the project continues, attracting increasingly hapless sighs from people all over the country. Time and again, an affected farmer is brought into the limelight, eventually leading to a sorry state of affairs where even the biggest adversity doesn’t make the farmer unique, leaving him a statistic to sympathize with.

The documentary “Drowned Out” chronicled the series of events before the drowning out of a farmer’s village, and eventually the tragedy of the climax of the protests. An important watch.

A recent article in India Together reports about the life altering event in a family’s life that was the SSP.

Only to fall on deaf ears…

unfortunately, i am so disappointed by the first chapter of ‘the great indian novel’, that i have decided to shove it away. considering there’s a lot of tharoor in the news today, and that this book of his was given considerable lip service, i decided to pick it up. also, being a big fan of the mahabharatha (the epic, the serial, stories at home, etc), and with the customary touch of deference regarding the erstwhile indian political scene, i expected a lot out of the book. and to top it all off, the book starts off in a typical indian fiction author style, the nerve of which i can’t point to, but a style that gets me everytime, and makes me want to explore more of the genre.

anyways, as i mentioned, the book, at least going by the first chapter, is a juvenile, amateur writer’s exploration, which could have been written as well by a so-so talented blogger looking for venting his sarcasms somewhere. initially, i thought of quoting some parts of the first chapter as a self-fulfilling experience, but i’m too lazy, and it’s not worth it. suffice to say, it feels like reading a 15 year old’s essay on a extrapolating the mahabharatha to the indian political scene, one with the want for the cursory sympathetic laugh here and there.

boring…