The Illiterate Americans

Many Americans go to school. Many of them even go to college. Many of those who go to school and college become great men and women. What happens to the rest? The illiterate ones who never learnt to read beyond A-B-C-D?

They become post office employees.

They may be slumdog beggars or call center chai-wallahs in poor third world countries. Not here in the US of A where there are equal employment opportunities for everyone. So in this land of plenty where discriminating against the literacy-impaired is a sin, the government provides them with jobs like sorting and delivering mail.

This wonderful fact was revealed to me today when I received a letter by the post. The white envelope that contained it looked somewhat like this:

The most interesting thing about the envelope was that it was addressed in my own handwriting. It was a letter that I had posted yesterday morning. Note the lightning-fast service: this is not a poor third-world country where mails get delayed indefinitely. If it has to be delivered, it is delivered without delay.

At first I was perplexed about the reason of the mail's return. Had I fixed the wrong postage? Was the envelope overweight? Was the recipient's address wrong? The second could not be true of course, and if the third was true, it would mean that the letter went to the destination in another state, verified the address and travelled back across the USA within 24 hours. That is incredible even by American standards of efficiency. I had almost settled on the first reason when it dawned on me that underpaid mails are not sent back to the sender. They are delivered and the fine collected from the recipient. Then why on earth was this letter here?

Then my friend told me that in the US, the postal employees expect the "From" address to be on the top left corner of the envelope. If it is anywhere else, the letter is delivered at random to any one of the addresses written on the envelope. This solved the mystery of the misdirected letter and also revealed this beautiful policy of employing the illiterate for the job of sorting mail, for I could come up with no other explanation for a person not understanding the words "To" and "From".

Believe it or not, there was a time in this very country when a letter written from Japan on the back of a stamp and addressed "Robert Ripley, North America" found its way to the proper recipient. But I am sure the unemployment rate was much higher at that time. In any line of work, there is always a tradeoff between efficiency and accuracy. The line has to be drawn somewhere for faster and faster service. That line has been drawn: we no longer need people who understand the words "To" and "From". Illiterate people who can efficiently look up zip codes and stack mail into piles are needed. They only need to know the digits from 0 to 9: learning all 26 letters of the alphabet and then the meanings of two- and four-letter words (except a few) on top of that is only extra burden.

And besides, it is discriminatory too. Discriminatory against the reading-challenged.

So I take my imaginary hat off and bow to the Americans. Even though I was terribly inconvenienced by the return of this particular letter, what is a resident alien's inconvenience compared to the national employment rate? And besides, resident aliens like me won't make the same mistakes twice. We are not illiterate after all.

Our Home

This is not a review of the best documentary I have ever seen. I will not write a conventional review because a review can never express the range of emotions that I felt while watching this movie. Further, a review should be impartial and objective. I can never be objective about a movie like Yann Arthus-Bertrand's "Home" and weigh its good and bad points, because the overall message of the movie is so strong that it becomes more important than everything else.

Not that there is a lot to weigh. With breathtaking aerial views of the earth from 54 countries, Armand Amar's truly global music and moving narration, Home has depicted our planet in a way that I have never seen being done before. From the Arctic pack-ice to the Australian grasslands, from the Masai village on the savanna to the skyscrapers of Dubai, from the rain forests of Costa Rica to the permafrost covered Siberia, from water-guzzling Las Vegas to the parched villages of Rajasthan, Home may have just created the most complete picture of our planet. It is something that we could proudly send across the universe to other civilizations to tell them about us.

Did I just say “proudly?” Scratch that out. Watching Home made me hang may head in shame. It brought tears to my eyes. Shame for being a specimen of Homo sapiens. Tears of sadness on seeing what our greed has done to our mother planet. And this is where Home is different from many other documentaries on similar topics that I have seen on National Geographic or Discovery Channel. Home is not a neutral narration of events happening on earth. Home has a message to give us, a plea that we have ignored for too long. We, some of the newest creatures to walk the face of this planet have defaced it in such a way that no other creature in history ever dreamt of. If another intelligent species unacquainted with humans were to watch Home, they would surely make sure that none of us ever reached their planet.

Home deals with most of the evils that mankind brought with them – climate change, global warming, deforestation, erosion, droughts, species becoming extinct, ever-widening economic gap between the rich and the poor. As the movie says, “Everything is linked.” It also provides us with beautiful visuals of pristine lands unaltered by our filthy hands. Home directly points a finger towards the developed nations with their wasteful and over-indulgent lifestyles and tells them to mend their ways, or suffer. Watching this movie truly makes us realize that we human beings are like cancer cells on the planet.

Watching Home also made me more proud of being a citizen of a third world country than I have ever been. India ranks among the topmost nations where spending on renewable energy sources are concerned, and Indians (along with the inhabitants of other poor Asian and African nations) have some of the smallest carbon footprints in the world. We still live close to nature, and with nature. That does not mean that we won’t suffer, of course. The ultra-consumerist lifestyle of the West (of which I have been guilty of lately) is killing the planet. When it goes, nobody will be spared. Unfortunately, that seems very likely given the number of abusive comments on the movie’s YouTube page screaming that global warming in a myth.

The movie was released on June 5th this year in theatres, TV and on the Internet simultaneously. I found it on YouTube. Here is the link. (A word of caution to viewers with slow Internet connections: it is over an hour and a half long and high definition video, so it may get stuck. Also, its actual size is around 1 GB. So if you have a limited-download-quota Internet line, be careful.) This kind of release was needed to reach the maximum number of people. Who spends money to go and watch a documentary in a theatre? They might watch it on TV, but then it leaves out people like me who live off the Internet. And the makers of Home wanted to pass on this warning to as many people as possible which they were able to do this way.

But most importantly, Home passes on a message of hope. Along with showing us the mistakes that we made, it also shows us the way forward. It tells us how we have the power, even now, to change things for better. It tells us how people around the world have ignored pessimistic views and made miracles happen. We just need to act and spread the word.

That’s what I am doing. Not writing a review. Just spreading the word.

Eating out in Newark

“We’re visiting Newark tomorrow to see ‘Disney on Ice.’ We want to have lunch with you immediately afterwards. Find a good restaurant in downtown Newark and reach there by 12:30,” said my cousin brother one evening in early December. It was a Saturday and I wasn’t too familiar with places to eat in the downtown area. I called a few friends but nobody could help me.

The next morning was bitterly cold. It had been snowing lightly since the previous night and it was terribly windy too. When I reached Prudential Center it was already 12:45 and my cousin and his family had taken refuge in a small restaurant called “Chinatown Diner.” I, in the meantime, had finally managed to get hold of a friend who knew something about restaurants in Newark. “There’s a good restaurant on the 4th floor of the IDT building on Broad Street,” she said. “I don’t know if it is open on Sundays, but it is worth a try.”

Chinatown Diner proved to be a very strange diner, because they did not have anything on their menu, not even water. They also said they accept only cash. So soon, all five of us were out in the wind and flurries walking towards the IDT building.

IDT is a telecom company. That’s all I knew about it. They own two buildings on Newark’s Broad Street. My friend had told me which building to enter, so we walked smartly into it. There was a guard at the gate. We asked him if there was a restaurant inside. He promptly told us to go to the 4th floor. Once inside, there was a turnstile-style security check post where the security guards were putting wrist bands onto anyone who entered. Now this was odd for a restaurant, but we thought since this is part of an office building, maybe they have to follow these procedures. We asked the guards here once more, just to be sure, and received the same directions. We walked to the elevator. There was an operator. We told him we wanted to go to the restaurant, and he smiled and hit the “4”.

Fourth floor of the IDT building was pretty crowded. As soon as we got out of the elevator, someone ushered us towards the dining area, then someone else handed us paper plates and told us that the buffet started there. Before we could understand what was going on, or even ask, we found ourselves in a buffet queue. My cousin managed to ask someone, “We want to dine a-la-carte…” The person smiled patiently and said they only had a buffet.

So that was that. Now we turned to the food on the buffet.

The first item was macaroni cheese. Then there was jell-o. Then there was macaroni cheese again. It was a mystery all right. We had never been to such a restaurant before. I do not know what the others were thinking, but I was too surprised to look around. I took macaroni cheese on my plate, skipped the jell-o, dodged a Santa Claus and headed towards the sitting area with holiday decoration which was nearly full. Somehow we managed to find some empty seats and sat down. It was only then that I had a chance to look around me.

And then it hit me.

The people who sat around us in that large room were poor or homeless people. The IDT management was serving them free lunch this Sunday. We had walked into it without realizing.

A girl came offering glasses of soda, offering us a choice between Coke and Fanta. We managed to grunt something which she interpreted as Fanta and served us accordingly.

None of us looked at each other. We ate in silence. We, the adults, I mean. The kids were only too happy with the meal. My older nephew asked for a glass of Coke the next time the drinks came around, and then tried mixing the drinks. His parents were not in a state to reprimand him.

Another girl came with ice cream. The holiday music stopped momentarily and there was a reminder to collect the free phone cards that were being given to all departing guests downstairs.

After what seemed too long a time, we somehow finished the food on our plates. We never went back for a second helping. While leaving, my cousin brother asked someone from the organizers if there was a place where he could make a donation. The man stared at him as if he was seeing an alien. Then he said there wasn’t.

Downstairs, I collected the free phone card, being technically the only “poor” guy. I never got around to using it though. As we passed through the revolving doors onto the sidewalk once more, all of us found our voices again. My cousin brother and sister-in-law accused each other for this gaffe while I thought it was best to put the blame on my friend who was not present there. The kids never understood what the big deal was, when we had got all that good food for free.

Since that day, whenever my cousin and his family visit Newark, they either plan to go back home and eat, or choose a “safe” restaurant like McDonalds or Burger King. As for me, I have vowed not to take people to restaurants where I have not eaten already.

The only saving grace is that my nephews’ respect for me has increased ten-fold. To live and study in a place where you get free food, and that too the coolest food in the world, one must be very, very high up in some kind of hierarchy. That’s Uncle Joy for them. They aspire to grow up and come to Newark to study. I’d rather not explain the truth to them right now.

Up

Last night I watched "Up", Disney-Pixar's latest presentation. I have been hearing about this movie from my friends for the last couple of weeks, and what they said seemed to be a bit odd for a children's animated movie. Two of the ladies said they cried through the movie, and the third didn't cry, but she heard sobs in the theatre. So even before the movie started, I was somewhat apprehensive about it. After watching the movie, my verdict is that this is one animated movie that is different from all others because it is not funny at all.

Now readers may say, "But you wrote the same thing about WALL-E a few weeks ago! You said it is different and scary." I agree. WALL-E is different. WALL-E is scary too, because of the message it carries. But each and every scene of WALL-E is funny in itself - a quality that can be found in any other Disney movie like Aladdin, The Lion King, Finding Nemo, A Bug's Life or Jungle Book. All these movies are essentially based in a children's world, with incidents that a child can understand and find humour in. Even WALL-E, with its bleak futuristic setting, uses humour in every scene to be "funny" to children. And this is something which Up isn't. It's just not a funny movie.

True, it does try to be funny in some of the scenes, like when Alpha speaks with a high pitched voice or when Russel climbs over Carl's face (sorry Crys, I used the same examples as you did but then I read your review first, and it's difficult not to internalize!), but the overall situation in the story was so serious at these moments that the humour is completely overshadowed. The first ten minutes of the movie are probably its funniest - the next wordless sequence between Carl and Ellie is probably the saddest and most depressing sequence I have ever seen in a children's movie. Without revealing anything about the storyline, I can only say that whatever happens to Carl starting ten minutes into the movie and almost up to the end would have probably made this movie a tragedy if not for the forced happy ending (which is a must in children's movies). Again, one must understand that the death of Mufasa in The Lion King, or the poisoning of Snow White in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs were frightening or depressing sequences in themselves, but with respect to the story they were small temporary misfortunes that were only a part of a bigger story of triumph. Here, however, the losses are so permanent and crushing that it keeps lingering at the back of the mind even during the happier moments. Although I did not cry, I do not blame someone who did. Interestingly, an injured man bled in a scene here - I cannot remember any Disney movie scene in the past where blood has been shown so explicitly, but I may be mistaken.

But is the movie good? The story is relatively simple, with fewer incidents happening. The music by Michael Giacchino is hauntingly beautiful. The animation is good, though I felt it is not as good as WALL-E. There are again a few plot holes, but if you can believe the basic premise of a house flying away with helium balloons, you really should not bother about plot holes. Overall, the movie is definitely good and children may even find it funny and cheerful to a certain extent. But if you are an adult and want to watch this movie to spend a couple of hours laughing, stay away. Adults should approach Up with an expectation to see a good serious movie. If that's what you are looking for, you won't be disappointed.

Two Sculptures

I went to the Natural History Museum again this Sunday, and while coming back I decided to take a walk through Central Park. It was a warm and sunny evening and Central Park was pretty crowded, with children running about and adults either walking for exercise or just sitting in the sun. As I walked about with my camera, I saw two bronze sculptures. The first one was a large statue of Alice sitting on a giant Mushroom playing with a kitten while the Rabbit, the Mad Hatter, Dormouse and Cheshire Cat surrounded her (See picture on left). An immortal literary creation immortalized in bronze. The statue is large enough for people to climb over it and pose for pictures. It is also safe enough so that children can easily climb up and down, and play on it without falling down. As soon as I saw this sculpture, I imagined a large bronze statue of Tyansh Goru, or of Gomratherium, or the king of Bombagarh (all are characters created by Bengali writer Sukumar Ray) in some park in Kolkata. Couldn't we have them?

Then a little distance away, I came across this second statue. A man reading a book and a duck listening to him. The man is Hans Christian Andersen. This statue is also larger than life size and strong enough for people to climb all over and pose for photos. A look at the open book revealed that he is reading "The Ugly Duckling" which explained his audience. In India, statue of a famous person is usually the 3-D equivalent of a passport photograph: as formal as possible. Most of them are too crude to be called sculptures, and they end up on some important traffic intersections of our cities, to be pooped upon by pigeons and garlanded on their birthdays. Rest of the year, few people even notice those statues. Do we have a shortage of great men? Not the last time I checked. Do we have a shortage of famous fictitious characters? No way! Even if we don't consider mythology (people climbing on a Ganesha statue to pose for photos may hurt the religious sentiments of some people), we still have the characters of regional literature and those from works of authors like R. K. Narayan. We could easily create such informal looking statues and place them in parks. Are "pub culture" and eating junk food the only "good things" that we want to learn from the West?

Here, both the statues are beautifully sculpted (as are all the others in Central Park) and the use of bronze makes them stand out from the surrounding stone and concrete, along with providing the strength needed to withstand the torture they endure. It is highly unlikely that anybody in any position of power in India reads my blog, but if they do, it is my sincere request to them to consider this idea the next time they want to have a monument built. I don't believe we spend any less money on these things than the Americans do. We only need to look beyond our age-old ideas and notions about art. And we need the will to create something good. Maybe that way we will manage just one really good statue instead of five hideous ones (to appease five different communities), but I still think that would lead to a more beautiful India in the long run.