Today’s choices will determine the future of the Indian State’s relationship with citizens
The only certainty in the coronavirus-induced global chaos is that the idea of the nation-state as the all-powerful, enforcer of social order is back. After decades of globalisation, neo-liberalisation and privatisation, in this moment of crisis, people across the globe are looking to their national governments and willingly giving up their civil liberties in favour of absolute State control. From Europe and the United States (US) to India, citizens are encouraging, in fact, demanding, that their governments improve surveillance and build capacities to police everyday life. Social distancing, social isolation, lockdowns are the new normal. The State commands it and people are willing to comply.
Ironically, this demand for excessive State control is in part a consequence of State failure in managing public health systems and developing robust mitigation strategies. Many countries in Europe and the US failed to test and contain the virus in its early days. South Korea and Singapore that seem, for the moment, to have avoided large-scale lockdowns focused on deploying State capacity toward mitigation through aggressive testing and contact tracing. But the trade-off is greater State capacity for surveillance.
These strategies are perhaps necessary but with their invocation, the nature of State-society relationships and the dynamics of State capacity in shaping State behaviour are likely to undergo a fundamental transition, globally.
As India readies itself for greater restrictions, it is important to examine the State capacity failures that led us to a place where lockdowns seem inevitable, and ask what needs to be done to redeploy State capacities in ways that protect citizens, while keeping State power in check.
In India, the coronavirus pandemic is unfolding in the context of a broken health system. India’s health failures are well known — our health infrastructure is weak and under-resourced, health facilities are poor, and quality of care is abysmal. In this context, it is perhaps easier to focus on containment through lockdowns rather than invest our faith in a broken health system. This is why the government’s appeal to move in the direction of a slow but inevitable lockdown in our cities has been well received and widely supported. But social distancing, despite lockdowns, in a poor country with high population density is near impossible. And with cases mounting every day, without a war like effort to strengthen our health system, this may do little to contain the deadly virus.
The Indian State, for all its failures, has a remarkable ability to shine when it goes in to mission mode — the State can conduct elections even as we routinely fail in basic administrative functions such as health and education. Given this, a well-coordinated mission-mode response is not unfeasible. But to do this, our policymakers have to first start believing in our public health system and begin investing in its capacities, rather than focusing on coordinating and managing shutdowns.
At a minimum, three critical things need to be done. First, aggressive testing. The relative success of countries that adopted this strategy is well-known. The Indian Council of Medical Research is slowly changing protocols and bringing in the private sector to expand testing. This is good news, but more needs to be done urgently.
Second, service readiness. India will not be able to pull off a Chinese miracle and build hospitals in 10 days. But it certainly can prioritise hospital readiness by upgrading facilities — add beds and procure equipment. This will require the administration to reduce red tape and speed up expenditure. Utilisation levels of government health budgets in India are extremely low. In 2018-19, only 59% of the total National Health Mission budget for the year was spent. At the hospital level, spending is even lower — only 38% of the funds made available for hospital upgradation were spent. Moving money at this stage is critical. Once the system starts moving, more resources can be added. In addition, funds need to be provided to prepare primary health centres and wellness centres built under Ayushman Bharat to triage and treat mild cases so that hospitals do not get overwhelmed.
Third, human resource management. India doesn’t have enough doctors, but, in many parts of India, government MBBS doctors are under-utilised. As economist Jishnu Das’ work has shown, doctors in rural primary health centres see barely eight to 10 patients a day. These doctors can easily be redeployed to service clusters where outbreaks take place. At the same time, community health workers (the one resource India has invested in over the last decade) can be trained with clear protocols and guidance to raise awareness, help patients navigate the health system, and seek appropriate care. In the event of an outbreak, we need to ensure that only critical patients reach hospitals. Some states are doing this, it needs to be scaled rapidly.
But to do this, we need to set up robust Centre-state coordination mechanisms. State governments such as Kerala are ahead of the curve, while others, especially in northern India, will struggle. The Centre needs to play a crucial coordination role, sharing strategy, expertise and human resources. In the short-term, investing in the existing public health system will help us deal with the crisis better. In the long-term, they can serve as the foundation for an agile and functional public health system.
The coronavirus pandemic has sharpened the focus on the role of the State and its relationship with citizens. The future of the State, particularly in India, will depend on the choices we make today. This could be our opportunity to strengthen our health systems and rebuild faith in public systems. Or we could invest in building capacities for enforcement and policing, which may have unwelcome consequences in the long-term.
Sunday drive with Hormazd Sorabjee: Ford Endeavour gets an upgrade
The SUV gets a brand new BS6 engine and India’s first 10-speed gearbox
BRUNCH Updated: Mar 21, 2020 21:20 IST
In a world consumed with coronavirus, the virgin sand around Turkoki Basti deep in the Thar desert would seem safe from what is now a full-blown pandemic. But the reason I’m here is not out of a need for self-preservation or a result of the panic that is gripping billions. Quite honestly, it’s to have a bit of fun.
This remote part of Rajasthan with untouched sand dunes is a great playground for a hard-core off-roader like the Ford Endeavour, which has just been updated with an all-new 2.0 litre diesel engine and a 10-speed auto gearbox. Yes, you heard that right – 10! But other than bragging rights of having India’s first 10-speed gearbox, does the Endeavour really need so many gears? We’ll come to that in a bit, but first let’s take a look at what else is new.
Outside in
On the outside, there are very few changes and the only giveaway is the all-LED, twin-lamp headlights, which look far more modern than the earlier lamps. The only other thing that’s different is the fake vent, placed vertically on the fender, where now instead of ‘3.2’ or ‘2.2’, which denoted the size of the earlier engines, it just says ‘Endeavour.’ That apart, the car is largely unchanged. And that’s no bad thing because the big and chunky Endeavour is a comfortable, well-equipped, seven-seat SUV that’s carved out a loyal customer base for itself.
The question is: how will Endeavour loyalists take to the smaller 170hp 2.0-litre four-cylinder engine?
The question is how will Endy loyalists take to the smaller 170hp 2.0-litre four-cylinder engine, which is significantly down on power from the previous and now discontinued 200hp 3.2-litre five-cylinder unit? The massive sand dunes provided the answer. But first things first, which is to reduce the air pressure in the tyres significantly. The soft sand can suck you down to your axles so it’s absolutely critical to reduce the air pressure in your tyres. Lower pressure increases the surface area of the tyres and that can make the difference between swimming and sinking.
Getting in gear
Worries that the new engine will be weak are unfounded as the new Endeavour confidently ploughed through the axle deep sand and clambered up large dunes. Sure, I did miss the stronger spread of power the now 3.2 engine offered and the 2.0-litre doesn’t feel as effortless and had to be worked hard to extricate itself from powder soft sand, but that’s where the 10-speed gearbox comes in.
With four more gears to play with than the 6-speed auto in the 3.2, the power and torque of the new 2.0-litre engine is maximised. The gearbox rapidly shuffles between closely-stacked gear ratios to ensure that you’re always in the meat of the engine’s powerband. The gearbox has a clever ‘shift-lock’ feature, which limits the number of gears you can use for maximum traction.
Road sense
Bouncing around the sand dunes, I can feel the suspension is softer than before but in the real world, which is broken tarmac and potholes for most owners, it’s actually more comfortable. On the 60km drive back to Jaisalmer on fairly smooth tarmac, the Endeavour’s highway capabilities came to the fore. It feels very relaxed and the improved refinement of the engine is immediately noticeable. The 10-speed auto gearbox is always alert. So, a gentle tap of the accelerator pedal will have the gearbox react instantly.
The good news is that all this tech hasn’t come with a big jump in price. In fact, the new Endeavour, priced between Rs 30 and Rs 33 lakh, is cheaper than some of the outgoing variants.
The Endeavour is still an old-school, tough-as-nails SUV but with a modern heart. The new generation BS6 2-litre diesel with that 10-speed gearbox has further unlocked the big Ford’s capability.
Hormazd Sorabjee is one of the most senior and much loved auto journalists in India, and is editor of Autocar India
Sunday Drive appears every fortnight
From HT Brunch, March 22, 2020
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Fit and fine: Keeping fit amidst the Corona virus scare
With most gyms and other fitness centres being closed, here’s how you can still keep yourself fit within the confines of your home
BRUNCH Updated: Mar 21, 2020 21:45 IST
We are in the midst of a pandemic scare and the health authorities have advised staying away from crowds. Since gyms are on the top of the list of places to be ordered shut, your pursuit of fitness can take a hit. It is very easy to give in to being slothful and just plonk yourself in front of a television, binge watching mindless movies and inane serials. But you can still get fit and strong at home, it just needs a little bit of creativity and a willingness to think out of the box!
Fitness at home
The usual go to exercises are push ups, body weight squats, lunges etc. But we want to shake up things a little and not do the regular “ole” circuits of push ups, lunges, rinse and repeat. See what I did here! Most people think that you cannot get strong unless you use external load because the number one principle for getting strong is Progressive Overload. Most people think that the only way to get strong on bodyweight exercises is to do very high number of repetitions. But you can also increase strength and add muscle size by doing single limb aka unilateral body weight exercises.
Enter the one arm push up and single leg squat aka the pistol
Most fitness enthusiasts who can bench press and squat quite a bit of weight will have problems while trying to do a one arm push up and the Pistol Squat.
Being able to balance on one leg for the Pistol Squat and on three points for the one arm push up, makes these exercises unique in terms of muscle activation and overload. Not only do they have a direct impact on what are known as the prime movers – chest, shoulders, triceps for the push ups and thighs, glutes for the squats – also the stabilisers, smaller muscles which do not adequately overloaded in bilateral exercises. Strengthening the smaller muscles will help in improving overall strength and injury proofing a trainee. It’s a win win all the way.
Regressions and progressions
One arm push up
•Start with what is known as an archer push up – one arm under the shoulder and the other arm straight out to the side, perpendicular to the torso. Get to 15-20 reps with this version.
•From the archer push up go to the straight arm placed higher on a rolled up towel/small ball. Touch the towel/ball lightly. Get to 15-20 reps with this version.
•Now put the hand on the hip and do assisted one arm push ups. This is pretty close to a legit one arm push up. Stay with this version for a while. For some people, they do no need to go beyond this version.
•The final version – the free hand does not touch any part of the body. Congratulations you have achieved a real One Arm Push up.
Single leg squat or the pistol
•Reduce the range by squatting to a high chair or a bed. Work up to at least 20 reps per leg. Once you can hit 20 reps, squat slightly lower. Continue like this.
•Another way is to start by squatting down with both legs and coming up on a single leg or squat down on a single leg and come up on both legs. Work up to at least 20 reps per leg.
•Now you are ready to attempt a Pistol!
Not having access to a gym should not interrupt your fitness journey. In fact, use this time to work on getting stronger on body weight exercises, especially the ones I list above and reap innumerable benefits! Now go do it.
Author bio: Kamal Singh is a Certified Strength and Conditioning Specialist who has been coaching for 15 years
From HT Brunch, March 22, 2020
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Rude food by Vir Sanghvi: They call it Bombay
But the Bombay Canteen group combines the best of the city’s heritage and today’s Mumbai
BRUNCH Updated: Mar 21, 2020 20:11 IST
It’s been five years since The Bombay Canteen opened to spectacular success, rave reviews and suggestions that it had re-invented the restaurant genre in India (which it had, despite being located in one of those ugly Parel developments built on the shattered lives of the city’s mill-workers).
I may have been the only person not to have been surprised by the rapturous reception the restaurant received. A year before the Canteen opened, I met Sameer Seth, one of the founders and was incredibly impressed by his vision. Sameer had worked in New York, but had started out in Delhi as manager of Shalom (he has now defected irretrievably to Mumbai, alas) and understood the Indian market. Yash Bhanage, his partner, was proud to have started out as a waiter at Cellini, the Italian restaurant at the Grand Hyatt Mumbai.
These were young guys with no great family money backing them (they raised funds from investors) and no great reputations to fall back on. All they had were passion and vision, which I hoped would be good enough to make The Bombay Canteen a success.
And yes it was.
In the early days, such was the mania around The Bombay Canteen that nearly everyone wanted to go there. I remember watching Aneesha Baig visiting the Canteen to do a show with Rishi Kapoor who did what he does best (eating). Rishi commented on the coincidence that the restaurant’s tiny plate starters (Chintus) shared a name with him.
Individual dishes at the Canteen became the talk of the town. At one stage, more upper middle class South Bombay types had heard of Eggs Kejriwal than had heard of Arvind Kejriwal.
The success of Bombay Sweet Shop demonstrates that great restaurateurs don’t need to editionalise. They create.
The first time I met Sameer, he had come highly recommended by mutual friends, but one reason why I took him so seriously from the start was the Bombay Canteen’s third partner.
I had never met Floyd Cardoz but I was familiar with the legend of Floyd.
A Goan from Mumbai who had worked at the Taj, Floyd made his name in New York where he was second-in-command to Gray Kunz at Lespinasse, then one of the city’s best French restaurants. In those days, chefs were not household names but every foodie knew about Lespinasse and I remember being faintly shocked when I was told that the star of the kitchen was a young Indian chef.
Then, Floyd tied up with restaurateur Danny Meyer (well known in New York in those days but not yet the globally famous restaurateur he would become after the success of Shake Shack) who wanted to open an Indian restaurant in New York.
In the end, they opened two separate restaurants in the same building. The first was Tabla, which was the first Indian restaurant in America to get food critics to sit up and take Indian food seriously.
While Tabla was high-end and influential, Floyd also opened The Bread Bar on the ground floor. This was a more affordable and more typically Indian restaurant. At both places Floyd used American chefs in his kitchen arguing that a great cuisine could be cooked by a good chef, regardless of nationality. And Indian was certainly a great cuisine.
Eating at Tabla was a revelation for me. Floyd did not do Frenchified presentation like the Indian restaurants in London. He let his spices speak and the flavours shone through.
Several years later, Danny Meyer gave up the lease to the property that housed Tabla. (This was around the time that Meyer sold Eleven Madison Park to its manager, Will Guidara and its Chef, Daniel Humm, so I am guessing that as Tabla and EMP were neighbours, Meyer had to surrender the Tabla lease once he had sold EMP.)
Floyd then tried various things, from running an American cuisine restaurant called North End Grill to winning Top Chef Masters, (where he cooked a variation on upma in the final) but it became harder to keep track of him.
So when Sameer told me that Floyd was the third partner and would be Culinary Director for Bombay Canteen, I just knew that the food would be inventive and delicious.
Floyd (who I finally met a year after The Bombay Canteen opened) has always been good at mentoring young chefs and soon handed over full culinary responsibilities to Thomas Zacharias (who created the chutney that makes Eggs Kejriwal so memorable) who has taken The Bombay Canteen to new heights and is truly the one chef to watch in India.
But even as the Canteen continued to be talked about, Yash and Sameer opened something new. I guess the inspiration came from Floyd’s Goan heritage but they were also fortunate to tap into the creativity of another young chef, Hussain Shahzad, from The Bombay Canteen team.
I get stoned for saying this but I don’t believe that Goa has a great cuisine on par with say, Kerala or Lucknow. (I will now pause while you guys all mutter things like “What does he know? This guy has never been to the right places in Goa.” I have. Believe me. Before you went, probably.)
But what the Catholic food of Goa lacks in complexity or subtlety, it more than makes up for in flavour and the sheer joy that emanates from the dishes. (The Hindu cuisines are more complex and perhaps less joy-filled.)
I am sure Floyd does not agree with me but it is interesting that the overwhelming theme at O Pedro is fun. This is a restaurant where a first rate chef turns out wonderful food that makes you happy. You always leave more joyous than you were when you entered.
As much as I love the Bombay Canteen, O Pedro is one of my three favourite places in Mumbai. (The others are Soam and Americano, since you ask.) I have never had a bad meal there and everyone I have taken to O Pedro (such as the Gaggan kitchen team – which included a Portuguese chef who knew the originals of many of the Goan-Portuguese adaptations) has come out raving.
I later asked Floyd if the joyousness of O Pedro was part of the original conception. He said it was. Food he argued, is about joy and he wanted every dish at O Pedro to celebrate the happiness he felt when he was in Goa.
The logical thing to have done after two great successes would have been to replicate them. O Pedro would work anywhere in India. A Delhi Canteen would be brilliant. But the three partners were determined to keep doing new things.
Their latest venture, which has just opened in Mumbai came from a thought that Yash had while transiting through Istanbul airport. He noticed how the duty-free shops were full of boxes of Turkish Delight and pre-packed baklavas.
Why, he thought to himself, could we not do something similar with mithai?
From that germ of an idea came a full-fledged concept. Why not create a mithai factory like Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory? (From the Roald Dahl children’s book.) Why not create an adventure playground full of fun and wonder, a place where you could eat delicious mithai while watching it being made?
Then, the partners and their chefs got to work on the mithai itself. They considered many of the complaints they had heard about Indian sweets: they were too sweet, they were so hard to finish because they were too heavy, the texture of the kulfi could be too hard, and so on.
Their latest venture, the Bombay Sweet Shop in Byculla, incorporates all their ideas and takes into account all the complaints. Nothing is sickly sweet. The pedas and laddoos are smaller so you can easily finish them. Some of the kulfi is made in a kind of Softy Machine.
And like all Indian mithai shops, there is a savoury chaat section with tables and chairs. (Order the Burmese bhel – I kid you not!)
I loved it.
So I guess does the rest of Mumbai because it was completely full when I went. The success of Bombay Sweet Shop demonstrates that great restaurateurs don’t need to editionalise. They create.
And great chefs like Floyd can excel at anything they do: from French food at Lespinasse to mithai at the Bombay Sweet Shop!
From HT Brunch, March 22, 2020
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Humour: Don’t panic and carry on
With the paranoia epidemic in full swing, the optimists face their own challenges
BRUNCH Updated: Mar 21, 2020 21:32 IST
Forgive me if these words sound a bit woozy to you, but I’m convinced I’m in a state of perpetual drunkenness, brought about by the excessive talk of alcohol-based hand sanitiser. When they’re not emptying the overpriced contents of these bottles out on battered palms, I hear of people washing their hands with an obsession last witnessed in one Lady Macbeth. Things have gone so far that India’s favourite contact sport, the virulently touchy Holi, this year presented a relatively aloof face. In fact, couples these days are conducting their intimate affairs using a sizzling mix of emojis and sexting – no touching please, we’re panicking.
Paranoia pandemic
Douglas Adams’s famous missive from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Don’t Panic, mixed with that British wartime message, Keep Calm and Carry On, have for long embellished hipster posters from Camden Market to Colaba Causeway. But what is it exactly that makes our species, so busy with its problem-solving and philosophy-seeking, prone to paranoia on a pandemic scale? Is everyone really so worried about sitting on a metaphorical (okay, not so metaphorical) nuclear bomb, ticking away as we wait for the next Borivali local or Bond film? Is that what lurks underneath the superficial lull of Excel sheets and Zumba classes, adult colouring books (such a misnomer) and party playlists?
The answer, like that of all similarly overreaching questions is, of course, ‘Who knows?’ All one can glean from our quickness to reach the most disastrous conclusions that any situation can prompt is this: between the two primal responses to danger, fight and flight, there is a vast grey area. This zone is scientifically known as ‘pure distilled panic.’ It breeds the human tendency to concoct disaster scenarios sooner than a virus can multiply. Or does it divide? I don’t know, it’s too horrible to imagine. I need my fix of alcoholic hand sanitiser.
The power of positive unthinking
Those of us who were until recently l flying across the country might be familiar with a quite Orwellian sight. Masks of all varieties now cover the noses and mouths of the chronically fearful (and wise?). I must say that I’m quite impressed by the ones that look like gas masks, with two duly horrifying nodes. Never before has breathing been such a conscious task; a deadly virus has done what centuries of yoga has worked so hard on. On the other side of the mask lie the half-brave, half-stupid mavericks like myself, guided by the philosophy of…err…I’ll get back to you on that.
Couples these days are conducting their intimate affairs using a sizzling mix of emojis and sexting – no touching please!
Our unconsidered optimism is a throwback to a more ignorant time. Our forebears in the jungle thought an approaching tiger would exchange smiles with them before leaving them in peace. In wartime, we’re the ones who are convinced the bullets are flying in the other direction. And in peacetime we believe we’ll get a table at that posh Japanese restaurant on a Saturday night without a reservation. The power of positive unthinking – the blindfold that keeps us smiling as we walk across a burning bridge.
Sneeze the day
Panic, to my lot, has its uses. Like hoarders who stockpile during times of crisis, we profit off the fears of others. It’s easy to guilt out loved ones when they’re worried about making it alive to the next instalment of The Avengers (though missing the next Star Wars instalment episode is not an unattractive prospect). To an inveterate socialiser, the distancing directive is particularly harsh. It does make one wonder, though. Have all those habitual self-isolators, who look down upon human interaction like it’s a mark of low intelligence, changed their stance yet? Is Covid-19 a global conspiracy of the introverts?
One big challenge I’ve been facing ever since the virus that sounds like a beer bubbled over will resonate with fellow sneezers. Those who have been lustily ahchoo-ing their entire lives with impunity are now treated like some kind of WMD. It’s stressful to get out into the world and have people mistake your innocent sneezing for a symptom of the malevolent bug. Be sensitive, people. Your panic is contagious.
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From HT Brunch, March 22, 2020
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