NEP Readings 2011-12

NEP TOPIC GUIDANCE READINGS

Dear Students

The following readings are divided by topic and contain ideas for for and against the topic. These are just to get you started and you are strongly advised to read up and research much more before presenting. However these readings will present you with a succinct overview of what you are dealing with and what are the points and areas you can choose to focus on.

1.       The Indian Economy is Overregulated

http://www.heritage.org/index/country/India

http://www.doingbusiness.org/data/exploreeconomies/india/

http://www.doingbusiness.org/reforms/overview/economy/india

http://www.hindustantimes.com/business-news/WorldEconomy/It-s-time-to-rethink-regulation/Article1-595697.aspx

2.       Globalization is anti-poor

http://bizthoughts.mikelee.org/book-summary-the-world-is-flat.html

http://www.anderson.ucla.edu/faculty/sebastian.edwards/Stiglitz.pdf

3.       Financial crisis are man made

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB118736585456901047.html

http://www.economist.com/node/14843529

4.       China is the future of the world economy

http://curiouscapitalist.blogs.time.com/2011/09/30/state-capitalism-vs-the-free-market-which-performs-better/

http://www.forbes.com/sites/panosmourdoukoutas/2011/11/30/why-chinas-big-red-bubble-is-ahead-of-us/

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2011/04/30/chinas-economic-takeover-the-worlds-next-superpower-by-2016.html

http://apac2020.the-diplomat.com/feature/china%E2%80%99s-not-a-superpower/

5.       The Economic Reforms have pandered the rich, but not pondered upon the poor

http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2011-07-26/20-years-later-india-s-transformation-is-incomplete-world-view.html

http://www.weforum.org/content/india-needs-inclusive-and-sustainable-growth

COMMON READINGS

1.       Change, Business Today 20^th Anniversary Issue [Currently on Stands]

2.       World Bank’s ‘World Development Report’ [www.worldbank.org] http://econ.worldbank.org/WBSITE/EXTERNAL/EXTDEC/EXTRESEARCH/EXTWDRS/EXTWDR2012/0,,contentMDK:22999750~menuPK:8154981~pagePK:64167689~piPK:64167673~theSitePK:7778063,00.html

3.       www.imf.org [Economic Outlook]

4.       Economic Survey 2010-11 [http://indiabudget.nic.in/]

WHEN the first ad declaring the dates for the Sunfeast World 10k run came out this year, registration for the Open 10k was a no brainer for me. It took a mere five minutes. But then I started thinking... Why am I running? It was the hardest question to answer. I mean, I was not a black man running to kick some dust and sense up snobbish Nazi noses like Jesse Owens did at the 1936 Berlin Olympics. I wasn't running to come third like Darsheel Safary in 'Bumm Bumm Bole' so that I can get my kid sister a new pair of shoes. For the record, I did get my sister new shoes. Last Month. At Shoppers Stop. During a sale.

I wasn't running because of a sort of divine calling like Eric Liddell, the man who says "I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure" in "Chariots of Fire". Heck, I wasn't even like Simon Pegg in "Run Fatboy Run", running to win my wife back. (Well, I am not a fat slob, and as yet unmarried, for starters) So, why was I running exactly? In part because I had run the Sunfeast World 10k in 2008 and 2009 and had fallen in love with the spirit of this race. I was running because I wanted to tell my cardiologist again on the next visit 'Oh, you ran the 10k too? In an hour and ten minutes? How nice. I ran it too. In under an hour. Now, what were the results of my ECG again?' and leave his mouth agape. In part to inspire and motivate myself that I still have commitment and discipline in me. And now that the race is over and I am overwhelmed by the good wishes and response pouring in, I realize that I my run has inspired others as well.

It is an incredible feeling to realize just how many people have supported me through this and I owe it to all of you for this achievement. I chronicle the story of my runs not to brag about my achievements or sound cool; I only do it to preserve an inspiring story that serves as motivational material for later. At the Cannes Film Festival this year a film called 'Poetry' was showcased where an elderly lady deals with her life crisis by joining a writing class. Perhaps running has served me a similar purpose through a mini quarter life crisis.

OH, FOR THE LOVE OF RUNNING!
Any Sunday morning where you have to get up at 5 AM has got to be crazy. Or special. Or both. 23rd May was one such as I scrambled around the house bleary eyed looking for isotonic drinks and rich sources of carbohydrates. Having trained a grand total of three days for a distance I have never attempted with such less training, I was getting jittery. But I calmed myself down with the thought that my body was still in good shape (the last training session 48 hours back had been for 6kms at good pace) and telling myself that running is a mental sport anyway. Imagine my surprise when I spotted the same line on a T shirt four hours later on a fellow runner! No isotonic drinks were found, but the good old bananas took care of the carbs bit. On to the race it was.

I arrived pretty early (6.20, in fact) and the stadium was already abuzz with the practicing runners for the Men's Elite event warming up on the track. Two Ethiopian runners matched stride for stride as they covered the track in graceful leaps - a wonderful sight! Seeing the two runners made me do the one thing every self respecting man with the latest smart phone would do in a situation like this - I tweeted. Two hours to my race and I was typing 140 characters after 140 characters as if my fingers were to do the running. The mood at the stadium was a bit somber in the wake of the Managlore plane crash and we stood up for a minute's silence before the first race started. Maybe it was the silence or perhaps the sight of the energetic wheelchair race participants (the wheelchair race flagged off at 7:00 AM was the day's first event), but for the first time my mind felt focused and the body felt battle ready. The sun had disappeared behind a gang of clouds that had suddenly appeared on the scene. The though of running in the rain only heightened my excitement. From about 6-7 people when I arrived into the holding area, the crowd had swelled to about 5,000 with half an hour to go for the Open 10k. Meanwhile, the elite Women started their warm ups on the track and a few wolf whistles went around. Uff! Men will be men! The last of elite men returned by 7:40 AM and the women lined up at 8:00AM.

The moment they had exited the stadium and took the road, the Open 10k participants were let loose towards the start line. The usual jostling for space followed and one exasperated gentleman kept repeating that everybody was wearing a timing chip, so it doesn't matter where you start from, the moment the chip crosses the start line is when the time will start. His words of profound insight were drowned out by sheer excitement and adrenaline. The rush seemed bigger and more intense than if there at a queue for refunds of movie tickets for "Prince". At exactly 8:12 Am I crossed the starting line and the 2010 Sunfeast World 10k had started for me. I tried to draw inspiration from such wonderful Part III's like "Lord of The Rings: The Return of the King" or "The Empire Strikes Back" and promised myself that I would run a good race, no matter what.

In 2008, when I knew zilch about running, I had had a decently fast paced start hitting the 2 Km mark in 11 minutes. Even in 2009, the start was free flowing and smooth. But this race started incredibly slowly with the field hardly setting a pace and lot of people deciding to switch to walking mode after the first few hundred meters! Any hopes I had of setting an early pace were gone as everyone seemed to randomly change directions and running as if they were out for a walk in the park. I desperately searched for an uplifting song on my iPod and finally settled on AC/DC's "Shoot to Thrill". It atleast helped me pick up the pace a bit as I approached the first water station. Just then, a young teenager clad in a black football jersey crossed my path. The name at the back caught my eye and made me smile - apparently he was 'Jeevaninho'! Ronaldinho's sort of namesake was running pretty fast and I followed his lead. As the field thinned, as it usually does by the 2.5 km mark, I realized that my start had been slowest of all the three races I have run so far. Feeling the need and the pressure to pick up speed, I pushed myself harder and pounded the road as hard as I could. And a new realization dawned on me - when you have around 7,000 people around you doing the same thing, they can create an amazing amount of peer pressure. It was as if the whole race was shifting on to a higher gear. I checked the stopwatch. Four kilometers in 24 minutes! If I had to save this race from being a disaster I had to do something right away.

Luckily intervention arrived in the form of a pack of glucose at the next water station. The volunteer absent mindedly poured the entire pack into my bottle of water. The shot of glucose got me perked up and I started maintaining a steady pace with measured and equal strides. I tried hard to get the thought of being slow in the first four kilometers off my mind. There was only one though running through my mind - would there be a toilet nearby? Carried away by this whole 'keep yourself well hydrated' thing, I had given my bladder too much work to do.
Nonetheless, fearing I'll lose more time, I carried on. Who knows, the urgency could work in my favour!

The secret to running a good race, I discovered, was the same as the secret to making good soup or the secret to Rahul Dravid's phenomenal career - consistency. I realized that despite the slow start I could still finish the race in good time only if I maintained the same pace and timing across the remaining distance. Unfortunately, the remaining distance - the last three kilometers - had been a bugbear in my earlier races. This time, I was feeling better at the 7km mark and decided to make it count. I tried to clear out my mind and only think about how simple the whole process of running is. It reminded me of what Dennis Doyle's (Simon Pegg's character in 'Run Fatboy Run') friend Gordon tells him. When Gordon asks Dennis to "Go on then, run!” Dennis asks, "Isn't there some kind of like... special technique?" And Gordon replies, "Well... yeah... you put one leg in front of the other over and over again really really fast." I sort of heard a Gordon like "Go on then, run!" in my head and I said to myself, 'Let the overtaking begin'. And like a call center cab driver navigating city traffic at rush hour I pushed forward like a madman.

There was a guy running in front of me and his T-shirt said 'I run therefore I am - nuts!’ At that moment, it made perfect sense. The delirium, adrenaline and fatigue combined to put me in such a state by the 8th kilometer that even the choice of headgear of the tall British woman who was running with a chicken shaped hat on her head also made perfect sense. Motivation reached a peak as I saw a fellow runner collapse and being carried into the ambulance at the 9 km mark. One last swig of water and a botched attempt at accurately throwing the plastic water bottle into the dustbin later, I was ready for the final dash as I hit Raja Ram Mohan Roy Road and the final stretch towards the stadium and the finish line. Just when I was about to pick up pace for the final 500 meters sprint, suddenly my body convulsed. I was about to throw up. I immediately slowed down and kept telling myself not to give it away when I was so close. The stopwatch showed 55 minutes. Surely the sub one hour was within reach. The vomiting sensation subsided and I was fit enough to dash the final 100 odd meters and even pose for the cameras. Running is indeed a mental sport. Otherwise I would have been blacked out somewhere at the 9.75 km mark with the morning's breakfast lying nearby. 57 minutes 15 seconds! I had done it for the third time! (Later the official chip timing confirmed it was 57m12s)

It was a tough race, but ultimately super satisfying because I could meet the expectations of every well wisher who'd wished me. To wind down I went to the Nike Lounge, the passes to which were provided by a couple of friends at very high places. (OK!OK! I got it from a student of mine who was interning at the company that was managing the lounge) It was great feeling to see the lounge almost empty with the runners still on the street as I relaxed and basked in the glory of my timing.

A few tweets and status updates later, I was still pondering over the same question. Why was I running? I still don't have a definitive answer. Finally, it was the energy of the 23000 odd Bangaloreans who turned up for the event gave me the answer. There was so much positive buzz around that Bangalore that day seemed to be swaying to Louis Armstrong's 'What A Wonderful World'.

IPL POP QUIZ: The Taxing Edition

Been noticing all things IPL, like the volcanic ash of deceit and lies that have clouded the cricketing matters? Good, because there are some taxing questions in this final edition of the IPL Pop Quiz! Pencils at the ready, and don't ask why the quiz comes a good two weeks after the IPL. Do you have any idea how difficult taxation paperwork is? To the questions...and do remember, like Lalit Modi, we'll be back!

1. The Income Tax officials failed to locate the vital documents of the bid papers of Videocon and Adani group for the new IPL franchises. The documents most likely are:
A. Filed in the same cabinet that also has papers from Arthur Andersen during their Enron days
B. Lost in the Icelandic volcanic ash cloud somewhere
C. Are stored in soft copy in Lalit Modi’s Blackberry
D. Obviously, the IT department is blissfully unaware of the concept of shredders

2. Which of the following 'evasion' cases come under the jurisdiction of The Income Tax Department?
A. Rahul Dravid's deft evasion of bouncers in T20 matches
B. Kieron Pollard's actions leading to spectators seeking evasive action in the stands
C. J P Duminy's evasion of scoring opportunities in the IPL final
D. Any viewer trying to evade the bombardment of ads during the games

3. The Maharastra government has taken a decision to charge entertainment tax on the IPL. They have decided to do this because:
A. Someone suddenly remembered about this kid called Monoranjan, his dad and a certain ad campaign on Set Max [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHByZLDbPiw]
B. They were so depressed that Mumbai lost that they forgot how entertaining it was
C. Actually entertainment tax will also be levied on Lalit Modi, BCCI, Shashi Tharoor and even Sunanda Pushkar for all the entertaining drama they provided

4. If the Indian Government wants to erase its fiscal deficit, a well paying tax to levy would be
A. A tax everytime the MRF Blimp was mentioned at the IPL during the course of the whole season III
B. A tax on SRK's every IPL related tweet
C. A tax on every meter of the distance travelled by all of Robin Uthappa's sixes combined
D. Just ask Lalit to give you details of his Swiss Bank numbered account, will you?

5. Essay Question: With the IPL being dubbed the Indian Paisa League, explain in 200 words why this song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoAmHayKQjc is the most appropriate dedication to the IPL gang.

THE HAND OF GOD PART II

THREE
At 7 PM the match kicked off at the magnificent Olympic Stadium in Munich. The crowd roared in anticipation of an epic encounter. Juan kissed the cross that hung around his neck and took his position.’ This is it’, he told himself and concentrated hard. He could hear the ref blow the whistle as things got under way, but the only thing he was eyeing sharply was the Zeitgeist ball crossing over from one foot to another in a blur.
The first half went fairly event free for Juan which made him feel very happy. There were no hard saves to make thanks to the defenders doing their job well. The only scare had come in the closing minute of the half when Chriser had found himself free on the left edge of the penalty area from a brilliant through ball from Michael Owen. But his powerful shot went wide of goal and Juan heaved a sigh of relief. Juan could have sworn he had heard a cry of 'Stupid striker! Too nervous!' as the ball went past him.
'Could it have been the ball?’ Juan quickly dismissed the thought as he made his way to the dressing room with his teammates. ‘Surely it was one of those English fans’, he thought having known how harsh fans can be on their own players. To be fair to Owen, he had a tough angle and the ball hit the outside part of his foot.
By the second half, Juan’s nerves had calmed down. He was handling the England attacks better and made two good saves off Owen and Chriser, which doubtless gave him renewed confidence. But at the 88th minute with two minutes to go in the game and an increasing prospect of a 0-0 draw (just what Spain needed) Spanish defender Robert Artez fouled England midfielder Gary Brenham. The referee yellow carded Artez and awarded England a free kick just on the left edge of the penalty area and the man who stepped up to take it would have sent a shiver down any goal keepers spine, let alone Juan. It was David Beckham whose swinging, curling and deadly accurate kicks became famous as 'The Beckham Delivery'. Juan knew that if he let this one go in Spain would have no chance with only a minute left. He positioned himself on the right goal post hoping the defensive wall would guard the left post.
With every second passing like an eternity Juan waited, almost breathless, as Beckham stepped up and kicked. The ball swooshed towards the right post over the wall, but then began to curl away wickedly from where Juan was standing. Juan knew it was not possible to get it now. In a desperate last minute attempt he leapt towards the direction of the ball and screamed out, ‘Come towards me you idiot!’ He was trying to control the ball by talking to it! Even he did not know what had made him do this. But to his shock, the ball seemed to be swerving away less and less. He stretched out his hand and made a lunge at it. ‘Come on!’ he shouted and the ball made a dramatic back spin towards him. He managed to get his fingertips to it and the ball sailed over the bar. ‘Ouch' he heard as the ball flew over. ‘It cannot be the ball again!’ he thought.

FOUR
Beckham stood stunned at the save. The TV commentator for BBC1 could hardly contain his astonishment.’ And what an extraordinary save by young Ferreto. Surely one of the best since Gordon Banks' outstanding save to deny the great Pele in 1970. And definitely the save of the 21st century.' [Gordon Banks’ save is featured in this YouTube Video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQA234KPA2s]
Juan could hardly believe it. Was it just plain luck or had he really managed to control the ball by talking to it? It sounded insane to him. The game was over soon afterwards in a 0-0 draw. Juan could hardly contain his joy at the final whistle as he and his teammates celebrated. They had made it to the next round and would avoid Brazil. The match ball was presented to Juan as a token of his heroic performance. For a young goal keeper there couldn’t be a better feeling.
That night, the whole team partied in the hotel and the coach brought more good news. 'Michel will be fit for the next round'. Every one cheered. Juan too felt relaxed at the thought that no more nerve wreckers were in store for him. But he felt a tinge of disappointment too because he was beginning to like it.
Later that night as Juan lay on his bed in the hotel room he watched the replays of the save being showed on TV. Every time he was amazed at the fact as to how the balls perfect arc was interrupted when he yelled at it and it turned towards him. The commentators said it was perhaps the wind but Juan knew fully well that the air was very still at that time. At last he decided to get some sleep after the extraordinary day. But as he switched the TV off he heard a voice in the cupboard,
'That kid is good. He deserves more chances.'
Juan felt like fainting. The voice was coming from the cupboard where he had kept his match ball along with his kit!

EPILOGUE
Juan was replaced by Michel in the next match which Spain won but in the quarter finals they lost to Netherlands on penalties. But Juan’s save was discussed throughout the tournament. Juan never tried the trick of yelling at balls again although he did hear odd voices when he was practicing alone. But he never told anyone this secret. He was reading the newspaper after practice one day and was surprised to see the following line in an article on him by Josh Clarevill, a British football analyst, just after the world cup:
'The save against England was easily a masterpiece. It appeared as if this boy could control the ball on a string like a puppet.'
‘Yeah, I can’ thought Juan. And he really could. But for the rest of his life he decided he was going to play by his natural abilities and not his supernatural ones. 'That’s the spirit!', came the footballs voice lying nearby his feet.

P.S. Juan currently plays for Real Madrid and Spain. Footballs still talk to him but he's never tried to control ball paths ever since 2006.

THE HAND OF GOD - PART I

NOW that the IPL madness is over, and the real IPL madness has begun, I.'ve decided to switch off and concentrate on the World Cup that's coming our way. Not the Twenty20 World Cup silly! The FIFA World Cup to be held in South Africa from June. My blogging has a sentimental connection to the soccer World Cup since I started Get Sporty during the 2006 edition in Germany. So, to begin Get Sporty's coverage of the 2010 World Cup, I have unearthed something interesting. A short story (sort of) I had penned in 2002 about the 2006 World Cup! So, dear readers, I present to you 'The Hand of God'. Hope you enjoy this little digression into fantasy land once from Get Sporty. And remember, like the IPL, all characters and situations are pretty much fictional and any resemblance to any place or person in completely coincidental and unintentional and mostly a result of misplaced financial documents. Sorry, my bad! ;)

So, here goes...Enjoy Part I...and don't forget to beg for Part II...muahahahaha

PROLOGUE
It is the year 2006.The world cup soccer tournament is on in Germany and Spain are about to face England in an important clash.

ONE
'So all we need tomorrow is a draw against England and we top the group’ said Alberto Mendoza the coach of the Spanish national soccer team, as he summarised the tactics for his team at the last practice session before the match against England. The team responded with a 'you got it coach!’. The coach then turned to the young goalkeeper who would be representing Spain tomorrow. ‘Look Juan, it is just plain bad luck that Michel got injured in the last game against Ukraine’, he said,’ and now you have to take up the responsibility. I have total faith in your abilities my boy and I am sure you will come good.'
Juan Carlos Ferreto, the tall but wiry 18 year old boy who was the standby keeper to Michel Delgado could only blurt out a muffled 'Yes'. It was true he was talented but at that young age with such a big match coming up, he was sure even the great Pele would have felt funny in the stomach.
'That will be all’, said Mendonza. The team slowly dispersed across the training ground and began to pack up their kits. Some of them shouted to Juan, 'Good luck!' as they left towards the hotel. But that hardly relieved Juan’s tensions.
Juan was the only person left on the ground 10 minutes later. But he was too engrossed contemplating tomorrow’s possibilities -sitting on the bench near the goal post- to have noticed it.
'Hey, you there!', Juan was suddenly shaken out of his thoughts by someone calling him. He spun around but could not see anybody, not even any maintenance staff on the ground. But he was sure he had heard somebody. Or was he imagining things?
His question was soon answered as he looked down at the football lying near the bench he was sitting on. 'Yeah it’s me’, the ball called out, the sound coming out with no movement of the ball.
Juan could not believe it. A football was talking to him! Surely this big match pressure had cracked his head open. Dazed, he timidly asked in slightly broken English 'Er…you talking to me?'
'Hey!’ the ball screamed back, ‘don’t get all Robert DeNiro on me pal! What did you think? The goal post was talking to you?' Poor Juan who had never seen an English film, let alone De Niro’s performance in ‘Taxi Driver’ and his famed ‘You talking to me?’ continued, oblivious to the pop culture wisecrack from the soccer ball. 'But...er...erm..How can you...I mean you know...talk?' he asked in Spanish.
The ball effortlessly changed the language too. 'How can you talk? How silly! Don’t you know all soccer balls can talk? You just don’t hear them always because nobody concentrates hard on a ball.'
'But then how am I hearing you now if I haven’t heard any ball talking for my whole life?' said Juan as he thought ‘For a soccer ball, this fella speaks fluent Spanish.’
'Because you were looking at me for the last half an hour. So I decided to talk to you. You look distressed. Need any help?’ the ball said and added,’ and besides I like your hair’. Juan almost blushed before getting a hold of himself.
Juan realised that he had indeed been looking at the ball lost in thought about tomorrow’s match. Slowly accepting the fact that he was indeed talking to an inanimate ball Juan gathered himself and decided to strike a conversation with the ball.
'So how is it like being a football?'
'Don’t ask! Getting kicked around all day is no fun! But yes its fun being kissed by the striker after a goal. But that happens if you are a match ball. Not a practice one like me. Oh! How I wish I were a match ball’. There was a clear note of melancholy in the voice as the ball said this.
'So can I talk to any soccer ball?'
'Yes as long as you concentrate hard on it. You can even make it obey your orders. But for that the concentration must be immense and you should not break eye contact.'
'Oh I see’, said Juan trying hard not to laugh.
'Come on I speak the truth’, said the ball looking at Juans face. Then it suddenly broke into a kind of a dance, more of a merry vibration type of movement singing 'I speak to thee the truth’. Juan could hear a funny sound coming out of the ball too. It sounded like.......
TRRR........IIIIIIIIIIII......NNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!

Juan woke with a start. It was 6:30AM and he was in his hotel room. He switched off the alarm clock by his bed. He couldn’t speak to balls after all. It had all been a dream. Relieved that it was only a crazy dream, he lazily got up to get ready for breakfast. There were other important matters to be addressed in the day. Like the evenings match against England for instance.

TWO
As the kickoff time drew nearer, Juan felt every hair on his body standing on the edge. True, he was an exceptionally talented youngster who had performed phenomenally to help Spain win the Under-17 World Cup in 2004. But now he was up against the 'big boys’. That too unexpectedly. If only Michel had not got injured at this critical juncture. England and Spain were to square off in the last match in their group. Both teams having won their earlier two encounters against Ukraine and South Africa (the other two teams in the group) were level on points. Spain with a superior goal difference needed only a draw to qualify but England desperately needed to win. The team to finish on top would avoid playing Brazil in the second round and it was upon Juan to make sure it was Spain.
'They are playing Owen and Chriser up front I guess', Elanor, the Spanish teams leading striker told Juan at the hotel lobby in the afternoon as they discussed the tactics. The name Chriser conjured up images of the Under-17 World Cup to Juan’s mind. There in the final Spain did beat England 2-1 but Chriser an effervescent, quick and lethal striker had managed to bamboozle Juan once-the only goal he had conceded in 7 games in the competition. All this was just building up the pressure on Juan and all he wanted was the match to start. Somehow he hoped playing the real thing would be less nerve wracking than thinking about it.

[TO BE CONTINUED...]