Venice: Floating on Gentle Waves

view from a bridge

Stephania, an artist

by the grand caanal

The bus passes hundreds of parked cars on both sides of the road and crosses a long bridge over what looks like an estuary before halting at a big circular terminal. End of road. Start of waterways and footpaths. Welcome to Venice.

One of the first things I notice is Santa Chiara Hotel, an old decrepit red building with cracks and worn-off coating, across a wall full of murals. It looks abandoned but isn’t. Further to the left is a stylish foot overbridge with fiberglass railings arching over a canal, a line of ferry stops, ticket counters, buses, shops and a lot of people, mostly tourists. On the other side of the canal there’s a big building, perhaps the railway station. It's a rare sunny day in the first week of March. Cold breeze carries the salty smell of sea. I move closer through tens of visitors and touts to see the Grand Canal, busy with ferries and boats, disappear into a city of grand palaces, statues and churches on either side.

A picture postcard. Venice is full of it. Look around from anywhere in those narrow streets or waterways, or from one of the several arch bridges, or anywhere by the canal—it will look like a painting, beautiful, grand and, yes, with clear signs of decadence.

The land of Marco Polo has it all.

All its grandeur maybe like a beautiful Venetian mask; underneath, the city, the real face, may be crumbling. But here, mask is part of the face and life is part of the show. The cracks on the buildings and bridges and their peeled off coatings are as much part of Venice’s beauty as its magnificent palaces, churches and museums, architecture, statues and art work.

They are all brought together and mixed and blended into a marvelous dream-like experience by water that reaches every part of the city through wide and narrow canals.

It’s hard to say if Venice is a floating city or a sinking one. It’s hard to say if water will slowly consume it or help it grow. Perhaps uncertainty is part of Venice’s beauty.

My nostalgia over a childhood spent in Kerala backwaters may have influenced my instant love for Venice. But I’ve never felt more at home, more relaxed, in any other global city.

Is there any other city where there is not a single vehicle in the streets, not even a bicycle? I don’t remember seeing a single policeman in Venice either, though I did see a couple of police boats.

Boats there are, of all kinds, from ambulance, electricity services and telephone services to ferries, taxis and private boats, motorboats, rowing boats and gondolas. They are all over the numerous canals, moving at their own relaxed pace along backsides of buildings, by paved streets, below hundreds of arched bridges, or parked, sometimes with covers on.

Get out of water and walk the narrow streets past countless souvenir shops selling Venetian masks and Murano glass jewellery works, high-end retail outlets, cafes and bars that have set tables on the streets, happy tourists, hugging couples, smiling street musicians playing accordion and guitar, probing roadside vendors, including several Bangladeshis and Blacks, and some jobless folks who asks for a fag as soon as you light one, to the grand squares, palaces, churches and museums, and get lost in the perfection of murals, paintings, sculptures and architecture, or get mesmerised by the minute details of masks, glassworks and jewellery. Or, feed parrots at Saint Mark Square—it’s wonderful though the birds seem to have a clear preference for girls, as they refused to bite on a piece of bun I offered until I threw it down. Or, sit by the canal watching boats and birds and buildings, people and water. Eat you food, drink your drink, take your time.

Venice is made up of more than a hundred small islands in the Venetian lagoon connected by bridges on the Adriatic Sea in northeast Italy. It was first built in early fifth century when several mainland Italians decided to settle in the salty water lagoon from fear of invading barbarians. The buildings here stand on thousands of closely spaced wooden pilings driven into the mud. Then they were sawn on top to make a flat surface. Most building in Venice today stand on piles sunk more than 1,000 years ago.

Venice has many landmarks—Doge’s Palace, Piazza San Marco, Rialto Bridge, world’s first Jewish ghetto Sotoporto, Santa Maria Della Salute Basilica, Murano island, Mozart’s residence, Harry’s Bar….

But the place is not about going from place to place, crossing out “must see, must do” items one by one. Venice is more about relaxing and doing things at your own pace. About walking around and getting used to the slow pace of life on water, to let yourself float like gentle waves, directionless.

Landmarks are great, gondola rides are lovely, the Campanille or bell tower is grand, churches and sculptures are magnificent, masks and glassworks are fascinating, but it’s best to avoid rushing through them. Venice demands to be explored, to be discovered, to be savoured.

Walk away from the main streets to inside the city without any particular destination. That’s when you discover the life in Venice. You’ll cross small bridges and canals, see the yellow and pink buildings where people live, flower vases on their windows, clotheslines outside them. You’ll see small squares where kids play and elders sit around cafes and shops. You’ll reach dead-ends facing narrow canals where people park their boats. You’ll see men and women rowing or motoring away to work. You’ll see parents and grandparents taking kids out on a walk. You’ll see old Jewish ghettos and new ones. You’ll see people go to market and laugh out loud.

If you get lost and ask for help, you’ll realize that most locals don’t understand English. Then you repeat words like “ferry”, “station”, “boat”, “vaporetto”. And they will tell you in their sweet local language where the nearest ferry stop is amidst roars of laughter . You may not get a clear idea, but don’t worry, move on; the ferry is never too far.

In one of those walks we come across Stephania selling her paintings in a square. She studied in an art school in Venice, and her paintings are beautiful, with arch-shaped bridges, yellow and pink buildings, colonnades, landmarks, gondolas, the sky and reflections on wavy water in brilliant water colours. She sells them for around 20 euros each. She looks happy. Beautiful life, I think.

Another artist we met is Rsgar who makes and sells masks from papier-mache at his studio shop. Venetian masks--many sporting florid designs and bright colours such as gold and silver, and decorated with fur, fabric and feathers—have their own magic world and a long history. People in the city actually used to wear masks to hide their identity and social status and, of course, it helped them involve in non-social activities. Sorry, those days of masqueraded fun are gone. Anyway, this day, Rsgar introduces us to several popular masks such as the Casanova mask, Pierrot and Joker. We are lost in the details of their design and stunning colour combination. He says he takes about four hours to finish one mask. He charges 30-50 euros each.

On a Sunday morning, walking the streets of a residential area, we notice that Venetians are not much into television. We see people sitting outside their houses, drinking coffee or tea and staring at the water. We see young fathers playing with their little ones. We drink coffee from a small shop. We sit outside by the canal. Some locals are there. They are friendly and courteous. On higher floors, windows are open. We hear children and grown-ups, but we don’t hear any television. Almost every house has TV antennas outside, but who needs TV here on a beautiful Sunday morning?

The gondola boatmen are unique. Almost all of them wear that typical T with horizontal stripes. Some wear round straw hat, some others sport shaved heads, almost all use dark sunglasses. They hum and they whistle and they always offer you a ride if you look at them. We ask the rate and one of them says it's 80 euros for 35 minutes. I ask if he would sing, “Do lafzon ki hai dil ki kahaani…” song in Amitabh Bachchan’s The Great Gambler playing in my mind. “In the opera house,” he says in his masculine voice, grinning.

We did hear a song from a gondola. But it isn't the boatman singing. It's a bulky man standing on the gondola comfortably and singing in the highpitched voice of an opera singer. His voice stay in the air and set the background for several minutes. We feel good.

Most local men and women are not really sophisticated. Of course, those in designer shops and big showrooms are suave. But most those you find on the streets come across as plain people. The language itself is let’s say a bit naïve. It’s a pleasure to hear them say “grappa” without ignoring a single letter, giving due respect to the “r” and the second “p”; it’s almost like caressing that word or, in this case, caressing a bottle of grappa, which is a local drink. The drink itself is not very smooth, but it has the Venetian flavour and it’s a pleasure saying “gurrappah”, be it in a bar or a supermarket.

Well, bars in Venice—as most cities of the world—are a bit expensive for people who don’t count their drink. So we largely bought our drink from supermarkets and kept it in our bag. Readymix :). Nobody minds if you drink or smoke in some corner. And, cheers, there are no probing policemen.

One problem with frequent boozing is frequent leaking. And that’s not cheap as I realised in my only trip to a public toilet in Venice. Like metro stations, there are barriers at the entrance. You insert one and half euros and it opens. I put in two coins of one euro each and waited for the change. The door opened, but no change. A woman there tells me the machine doesn’t return money, I could have taken change from her. At two euros, or almost Rs 140, that must be my most expensive leak.

I never went back to a public toilet. Of course not. I’d rather spend three or four euros in a beer or a drink and use the loo in a bar.

Although entry is restricted in loos, the entire public transport system in Venice runs on trust. Mostly. You can just walk in and walk out of ferries and buses; no one asks anything. I saw only one ticket examiner in my entire trip and at that time I didn’t have my ticket in my pocket. He just walked away when I said it’s with my friend.

I could never make out the real feeling of local people towards tourists. Obviously tourists are ruling the place, going wherever they feel like, having fun and clicking photos, and perhaps restricting the locals and denying them privacy. The old people may be missing certain things and traditions, but not many people could be complaining. After all they live off tourism, making and selling masks and glassworks and other stuff for tourists, renting out rooms, running bars and restaurants, rowing gondolas and riding water taxis and ferries…

So tourists are always welcome, provided they don’t dirty the place. Venice is very clean. Spick and span, streets and waterways. It’s a surprise, almost a wonder, to see a place so full of water to be without mosquitoes and flies. Kerala should do a study on how Venice is managing its waste, wastewater, drainage and drinking water systems. And, of course, making visitors feel at home.

an old woman hanging clothes

the bridge near the bus stop

a tourist feeding parrots at st mark's square

Rialto bridge in black & white

a shop window

Food and Girl

What strikes first is her superstar looks. Toned body, stylish hair let loose, shaped eyebrows, fair and lovely face oozing with confidence, unbuttoned jacket on matching top…. What's the secret, girl? What cream, what spa, what diet?

It’s not about her looks, stupid. She’s talking about the country’s economy; about the world’s crisis. She is a professor.

Yes, yes, I understand. I know this smiling girl. Always pleasant, she sat in her corner, smiling and doing her work. Nobody bothered her about anything. Then one day she became a lecturer. And now she is a management expert; her opinion, golden quote. What do you think Nokia should do about Samsung, smiling girl?

Be serious, man. Forget smiling girls and micro issues. Here you have a macroeconomics expert, teaching in Harvard.

Harvard? Yeah, I know. The Ivy League. Meant for the best in the world. Where champions learn their basics. Which school did you go to, girl? I want to enlist my daughter there. Did you study in Delhi?

Come on, man, don’t be so narrow minded. Listen to her. She is talking about much bigger things than your daughter. Take, for example, the food bill that will impact thousands of children in our country.

Food bill?

The National Food Security Bill. Once it's passed in Parliament and becomes an Act and is implemented, it is supposed to ensure that nobody goes hungry in the country.

Wow. Bravo! That’s noble. Our country needs that. I know we have more hungry people than anywhere else in the world. Some 700 million poor, isn't it? Here's one for the food bill.

Hey, hey, don’t jump the gun. First listen what she says. She says it’s a stupid idea that will cost the country thousands of crores of rupees every year. She says it’s irresponsible for the government to push such a thing and that it's only meant to win votes in the elections.

Well, if people get to eat and they are happy and if they vote for the same party, what’s the harm?

You don’t get it, man. Hear her out before making comments. See, the real poor will not benefit from this Act. All the money will go into some frauds. Haven't you read about the World Bank study that said 60% of food grains released through the public distribution system does not reach those it is meant for? Now the government will use the same distribution model for the food Act. You know very well where it will end up—corrupt officials, politicians and their dear ones.

True, but once the Lokpal bill is passed, then ideally such issues will be sorted out. You too were at the Ramlila Maidan, weren't you? You said it will at least provide a tool to sort out these corruption issues.

Come on, man, but you should know a Lokpal cannot make the public distribution system work. No bill can change the system here, you know that.

Oh! I thought I was the rebel, I was the cynic, and you were the optimists. It's you, white-collared executives, who relentlessly call for reforms and foreign investments and free trade, you're the ones who say the country will rule the world.

It's true that we need Lokpal and we need to fight corruption. It's also true that we are an emerging economic super power destined to control the world within a decade or two. But to achieve that, we have to make the right moves, we have to open up and let in capital to help the cuntry achieve its full potential.

Now you are going over my head. All I know is we are hungry – some 700 million of us – and we need food. You can't infinitely feed us with dreams that the Wal-Marts and the Googles will pull us out of poverty.

There, there! Don't be upset. You don't understand it because you don't know economics. Have you read Adam Smith? John Stuart Mill? Max Weber? John Kenneth Galbraith? Milton Friedman? Paul Krugman and Joseph Stiglitz?

I've heard some of those names. They are all economists, huh?

There you are. See, you don't know a thing about economics. What are you talking about? Listen to this girl here, half your age, she knows her stuff.

You're right. She's Harvard professor; I am BA pass....But I am hungry.

11.11.11

It's 11.11 on 11.11.11!

I remember planning to send a letter or postcard to achachan on this date...just for the heck of it.

I thought it will make him smile..

It will make Appu smile too.

Perhaps I'll send her a mail.

But I don't feel the joy of doing it.

Will I ever feel happiness as I used to so easily all these years?

I don't know.

It looks like I've lost faith in life. Nothing is secure. Nobody is safe. Anything can happen to anybody any time.

Is it a curse? Why? Who?

It's funny, it's crazy that despite all this, despite a series of killer tragedies, despite being repeatedly reminded that our life is not in our hands, I continue to worry about money and job and security and other stupid, clearly meaningless things that the capital world has taught us to respect.

11.11.11. Can it be the freedom day that helps me break free from the money-centred system and live a simpler, free and fair life?

I wish it did.

rishi

Jobless Morning

A lot of people have said a lot of things about Steve Jobs. Don't think there's anything left to say. At least for someone who has never seen him or used anything that he helped create. Not even an iPod. But most certainly due to an overwhelming overflow of glorious outpourings and information on him, I can't but think about this man. Who was he? Why was he so popular? Was he a Thomas Edison? Or, a Pablo Picasso? Was he an inventor? Was he an artist? No, no, no. He was a consumerist. The greatest, perhaps. One who knew what exactly a consumer needed.

Sure, Jobs had a great sense of design that  matched any artist. But his direction was diagonally opposite to Picasso's. As an artist, Picasso was after the truth, uncovering the secrets and inner selves of objects he painted. Jobs, as a designer, was after ease of use. hid the secrets and brains of his machines behind sleek interfaces.

And, like Edison, Jobs came up with things that changed the way people did things. But Edison redefined life for the entire humanity, Jobs did it for the consumer.

He was the perfect foil for the I-me-myself consumer that the developed world has become. His inventions are basically the high point of this generation of independent, self-centered individuals who, spoilt for choices in entertainment and comforts, shut themselves out from the rest of humanity to live in their own individual worlds. We see iPad, we hear iPod, we speak on iPhone. That's the ultimate power of this generation—to create and live in one's own individual world. And the greatness of Jobs was to read the mind of this consumer who every businessman in every industry is out to woo.

Post script: Another guy, who did exactly that (reading the consumer's mind) and himself a complete individualist, has began changing the world of individual consumerism. His name: Mark Zuckerberg. His contribution to humanity: Facebook revolution.

Death of a Diplomat (A short story)

It’s the sound of the radio that woke Krishan Sharma. Who put it on? He yelled. Apparently, he had dozed off on the sofa. There was nobody else in the palatial living room except for the numerous portraits, paintings and the tiger skin that hung on the wall. Omaar! Lekshmii! Yousef! The house is full of people when you don’t want them. Veena! Vikram! Gautam! Holy shit! Where the heck is everybody? Vikram! Where are the kids? Gautam!

Sharma rubbed his eyes. He had a headache and he was thirsty. He was slumbering towards the radio when its irritating noise turned into meaningful words—excited, edgy words of a newsreader. It’s a war! Indian army is marching towards Lahore. Oh my god! There has been a huge terror attack on Mumbai! They say it was Pakistan-supported terrorist group. It’s a war! Vikram, Gautam! Oh my sons!

He rushed to the window to peek out. There’s a noisy crowd outside the embassy. Some are throwing stones. They are going to kill us! Veena! Vikram! We must escape. Where are these guys? Where is the telephone?

The portraits had descented from the wall and were dancing around him. He heard a stone crash a window behind him. There are cries and yells. Was that Veena? Veena, Veena! We are dead! Gautam! Mahatma Gandhi, Muhammed Ali Jinnah, Pandit Nehru, Indira Gandhi, Zia ul Haq, the tiger…all the faces were going around him. Are they making the noise? Are they laughing? Or chanting? Sanjay Gandhi, Barack Obama, Narendra Modi, Bin Laden, Veena, Antonia…Stop it, STOP IT!

Sharma jumped up. He was on his bed. Out of breath and sweating profusely. Another bad dream! The aircon is working alright. Sharma felt his head. It was hot and wet with his sweat. He sat up. Poured a glass of water from a jar on the bedside table. He sat in the dark. There was enough light coming through the curtains from outside. The moon was out.

He sat on the bed, staring through the transparent curtain, through the balcony, to the night. Deep night. The gaze just goes on and on through the deep blue sky. What a life this is! What a shame!

Sharma was living alone. He had never had any sleepless night during his days as the Indian  ambassador in Pakistan. He was never scared and felt threatened in the not-so-friendly neighbouring country. In fact, he had a good relationship with Zia ul Haq. It was before Kashmir came into a boiling point. It was when Soviet Union was still at large in Afghanistan. And Sharma always considered himself a brave man. Ready to deal with any crisis. He could've had many, being an obsessive philanderer with extremely dangerous liaisons wherever he went. He could still feel the heat deep in his abdomen, itching on his penis. An uncontrollable urge to pee.

He stood up hurriedly and clumsily. His whole body was paining. The knees almost gave in. Fucking arthritis! He didn't want to wet his Panama and bed. He turned on the light. It hit his eyes. He shambled to the bathroom, eyes almost shut, unable to bear the light.

His sons, Vikram and Gautam, were now in their late forties, leading their successful lives in Australia and Dubai. It was more than 20 years since Sharma divorced their mother, Veena. That was in Spain. In the year he retired from the Indian Foreign Service after serving in Zambia, Mauritius, Australia and Spain besides Pakistan. He married his new love, Antonia, then the raunchy wife of royal descendant. She was still his wife. But was staying in Spain these days.

Sharma sat on the toilet seat long after he was through with his pee. He was never sure if he has stopped peeing. That's what sugar does to you: an eternal burning at the edge of your penis. Sharma noticed the trail of urine drops from the door. He got up slowly. He splashed some water on his face. He looked at the mirror. He saw only pain and disgust on his face. He had nothing else left in him. Only hatred.

He was afraid to sleep. He was afraid of dreams. He checked the clock. It was 3.30 in the morning. Another long, boring day is staring at him.

He had not stepped out of the house in a long time. He hated going for a walk. How can anyone stroll into a park without having a cigar to chew on? Or a pipe? And he just couldn't stand the neighbourhood, the sanghis. They seem to live in the park. Doing their circus, bhajans, foolish laughing sessions and, yes, tea and breakfast. Most unbearable is their friendliness. Why can’t they just let an old, retired man be. They will walk along and talk. To share their rightful half-truths. Lies and bores. That's all what life gets, after a certain age.

The last time Sharma went out of his home was more than five months ago, on a stretcher. That was when he had a massive heart attack. Why did he survive?

Perhaps to keep Raju and Nalini employed for some more time. Or, for his sons to get together one last time.

Sharma looked at the clock again. It will take at least an hour before Raju comes in with the bed tea and newspapers. After a while he will serve a toast and a fistful of tablets. He'll turn on the TV and hand over the remote. All for more lies and bores.

Sharma sat on his easy chair by his study table, facing the balcony. The sky had started changing colours. He opened the mini bar at the bottom of the table. He took out a glass and placed it on the table. Then he took out a cognac bottle with great care, trying to control trembling with both hands while pouring a drink. It spilt a bit. He was used to it. He took a sip and then opened the drawer, and  took out his suicide note and gun. He had been doing it almost every day since he wrote the suicide note about a month earlier. It was two days after Antonia had left for Spain, to spend time with her grandchildren who were not his grandchildren.

It was nice when she was around. They would sit in the balcony and talk about old days; the tensions, the uncertainties, of walking out on their families. 

Veena was shocked, but she always knew her husband had an animal-like libido. Vikram was 10 and he told him he didn't want to see him. He did come visiting when he was hospitalised, but eyes clearly said he didn't care. But Antonia cared. All these years. She even came to India with him when old age and frequent nostalgic bouts made him return to his ancestral land and buy a palatial flat in Delhi's suburbs. But ultimately Antonia went back. She visited him for about a month two times a year. She had promised to come back in six months.

But waiting was getting more unbearable every day. Who can endure infinite pain and boredom for, well, a few days with Antonia? Her small talks, her kiss on the cheek, her hugs? Yes, they are lovely, but... 

Sharma put the barrel of the pistol in his mouth. That was one sure way to ensure he didn't miss the target. He had done this several times, several mornings...his eyes tightly shut, his trembling hands struggling to pull the trigger... And then he would hear Raju opening the main door, and would hurriedly put the gun and the suicide note back in the drawer.

It had to change one day. Raju had to be late enough one day. Or Sharma had to be early enough. It was just a matter of time. He had to die. He knew it. He breathed in deeply one last time.

The next morning, newspapers had a small report: Former diplomat shoots himself.

What the PPPuck! (Teach Me Some Economics, Please! – Part II)

 

We are truly a chest-thumping nation. Now they say India is the third largest economy! That is in terms of purchase power parity, which basically means comparing countries in terms of how much you have to spend for certain amount of everyday products in each country. So a dollar in India could be worth 10 dollars in the US.

There is this Big Mac index, which basically compares the cost of McDonald’s McChicken in different countries, in local currencies, and decides a country’s PPP by calculating how much McBurgers a country’s gross domestic product can buy. Strange. And we Indians, at least our media, which works 24x7 to boost stock market sentiments, get excited by such comparisons. We won’t allow the sheer number of people we have in the country to come into the picture.

They say it’s not required because we are comparing countries’ wealth, not that of people.

If that’s the case, then why PPP? Let’s go by real exchange rates. Let’s go by one’s affordability anywhere in the world.

And by the way, what if we calculate this PPP on the basis of the price of petrol?

Indians apparently pay much more for petrol than most countries in the world, in real currency conversion rates, not PPP, mind you.

Now, I drive a petrol car. When I see a newspaper that screams petrol prices are up by more than Rs 3 per litre and an advertisement of Jaguar XF Diesel S, an SUV costing about Rs 50 lakh, next to it, I just lose it. I’ll never understand why somebody driving a jaguar be offered subsidized fuel while users of two-wheelers and small cars, who account for most petrol consumption, pay through their noses.

What the PPPuck!

On the road I start seeing things. All those big SUVs going by were now laughing at me. They looked down sarcastically at the guy carrying all his 5-member family on a scooter. The world seems hostile and I feel a victim of injustice sitting in an air-conditioned car. Beggars and rikshaw pullers go out of the picture. It’s a world of diesel cars and petrol vehicles.

There were some suggestions of dual pricing for diesel, to limit subsidies to farmers, commodity transporters and perhaps public transport vehicles. But the finance minister has denied it and oil marketers have said it’s difficult to implement and anyway it’s not worth the pain because private vehicles account for just about 10-15% of total diesel consumption. Fair enough.

But the problem here is, petrol sales could well be less than diesel sale to private vehicles. And by artificially keeping diesel prices much less than petrol, the government is only encouraging people to shift to diesel vehicles. So petrol consumption falls and diesel sales rise. What’s the point? Why increase petrol prices so very often? After all petrol accounted for just about 3% (Rs 5,300 crore out of Rs 121,571 crore losses from oil sales) of the country’s total oil subsidy.

Also, apparently, it’s not that the government is subsidizing diesel, or jet fuel, which also by the way costs more than Rs 10 less than petrol in India, the only country where it happens. Fuel prices are so high because taxes are so high on them. In the case of petrol about 40% of its prices are taxes and duties.

So next time we talk about GST, or common tax rates for goods and services across the country, let’s talk making petrol and diesel, and perhaps jet fuel too, part of it.

Teach Me Some Economics, Please!

I would love to help realize the editor’s call for making our business newspaper accessible to as many people as possible, with simple and clear writing. But, often I don’t get the economics. (Psst! don't tell the editor.)
Economic theories are like god’s commandments. You can’t question them.
But I’m tired of renegotiating my home loan with the bank. It’s some eight years since I took the home loan. And I think they must have increased rates at least 15 times. They never cut benchmark rates. Instead they offer larger discounts to attract new borrowers. Existing customers can avail better discounts through renegotiation, which mostly involves a five-figure fee. I must have availed this five times. Some new guidelines I believe bar banks from offering higher discounts to new customers. So hopefully I will not have to renegotiate my loan rate again. You never know though.
The problem now is the loan rates are only going up. And prices of food and fuel are going up. The learnt tell us that increasing interest rates is the most effective way to stop increase in commodity prices. So when prices go up, the banking regulator prompts an increase in the interest rate of all kinds of loans. But how?
If you can’t afford a product, you can’t afford a loan to fund it too. This will make several buyers not to buy and then sellers will be sitting on a pile of products—they call it inventory—for which there are no buyers. This will force them to reduce prices.
The idea is simple. But it doesn’t seem to be working these days. Over the last 19 months, the Reserve Bank increased interest rates 12 times, yet the inflation rate—or, increase in prices of commodities in one year—is still high, at about 10%. Why?
My sense is that this theory is meant for things like houses, cars and televisions, not for basic and perishable products like food and vegetables. That’s because man can’t do without food, he can put off car and fridge for later.
So when demand for food is higher than supply of food and this pushes up prices, the only way to deal with it is to increase food availability. If you are reducing the demand, that may be through starvation of the poor!
The government should encourage farmers grow more food crops through incentives and cheaper loans. It has made loans costlier.
This has begun to impact production. This has begun to impact sales of cars, houses and garments, which are growing at a slower rate than before. So, food inflation is staying high, while industrial production is slowing.
Now, our government is trying to keep prices down but it wants to ensure overall economic and industrial growth stays intact. So, while increasing interest rates, it also allows companies to borrow more money from overseas at lower rates. This option is however not available for farmers.
So it seems making loans costlier is an extremely ineffective way to fight rising food prices. But then I don’t know much of economics. Many those who do, including our policy makers, apparently believe it is effective and they give a feeling that it’s a tried and tested method.
But I don’t get it. Can somebody help, please?

This is the darkest hour in my life…

This is the darkest hour in my life
There’s no trace of light anywhere
Nothing moves, not even the air

Where has everyone gone?
Where’s the music, where’s the booze?
Is the party over so very soon?

There were a whole lot of us
My crazy family, our cranky friends
We were celebrating the now of our lives

Now I see nothing, hear no sound
I can’t touch myself, can’t smell my sweat
Now is unbearable. Is this the end?

It was great fun, our party
We sang and we danced,
Children with their great grandparents

We laughed over globalization,
Fought over dumb charades
Everyone equal in the power of now

Then one of us stood up,
Raised a toast and collapsed,
Then another, then another…

Perhaps the heavens were jealous
A killer virus felled our champions
Without warning, without mercy

This is the darkest hour in my life
Now fragile and most uncertain
I’m frightened, I can’t live this moment

Is this the end? Has everyone left?
Am I hearing you footsteps,
My love, my love?

moments by borges

Moments
Jorge Luis Borges

If I were able to live my life anew,

In the next I would try to commit more errors.

I would not try to be so perfect, I would relax more.

I would be more foolish than I've been,

In fact, I would take few things seriously.

I would be less hygienic.

I would run more risks,

take more vacations,

contemplate more sunsets,

climb more mountains, swim more rivers.

I would go to more places where I've never been,

I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans,

I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.



I was one of those people that lived sensibly

and prolifically each minute of his life;

Of course I had moments of happiness.

If I could go back I would try

to have only good moments.



Because if you didn't know, of that is life made:

only of moments; Don't lose the now.



I was one of those that never

went anywhere without a thermometer,

a hot-water bottle,

an umbrella, and a parachute;

If I could live again, I would travel lighter.



If I could live again,

I would begin to walk barefoot from the beginning of spring

and I would continue barefoot until autumn ends.

I would take more cart rides,

contemplate more dawns,

and play with more children,

If I had another life ahead of me.



But already you see, I am 85,

and I know that I am dying.

How much ado about Anna?

Anna Hazare is an unlikely champion for India’s youth. The 74-year-old social activist and Gandhian from Maharashtra recently started a second hunger strike for new anti-corruption authority in the country. It is certainly not the first proposal for an anti-corruption legislative. But this is the first nationwide mass movement against corruption. And perhaps the first time the country’s youth has hit the streets for a national cause.

That’s a good thing. They say 72% of Indian population is below 40 and 47% is below 20. So it’s important the younger lot take some interest in the way things are done in the country.

What looks not so good is the anti-corruption bill that Anna is starving for. Basically, Anna and his allies demand a super cop with powers to police the police and act against every public servant from an office clerk to the prime minister and chief justice.

Why? Because the existing anti-corruption authorities such as the central vigilance commission and departmental vigilance wings lack powers, resources, transparency and, hence, credibility.

Fair enough. There is a need to have a transparent, efficient ombudsman to take actions against the corrupt across all levels within a limited time frame.

But is Jan Lokpal the solution for this? I doubt.

The Anna team’s proposal says Lokpal members will be selected not by politicians, but by “judges, citizen and constitutional authorities”.

Their contention, rightly, is that the government and the political class have become far too corrupt and have lost all credibility, so they cannot be trusted to put the system back in order, not even finding the right people to do it.

The problem with this line of thinking is that it demands people's trust for a new supreme bunch of credible and responsible people.

Now, the law makers, judges and bureaucrats are all bound by oath to be true and fair in their duties. Most of them are not. How different the new super bureaucracy will be?

If people cannot trust the government—or those they can vote out of power—to ensure the bureaucrats and police do their jobs efficiently, or to even find a right ombudsman to do it, then how can they trust a new bench of “judges, citizen and constitutional authorities” to appoint a super, super authority that can take action against the highest democratically appointed authorities?

Who are these people anyway?

Judges one can relate to and perhaps accept as being more truthful and responsible than politicians—although it will extremely tough to convince a common man that K G Balakrishnan is more trustworthy than Manmohan Singh and AB Vajpayee.

Constitutional authorities? OK, at least something that will be clearly defined somewhere.

Citizen? Free for all? Unlikely. Or, some super citizen, like super cops? Apparently, they will be more responsible than you and me and the local legislative member who promised a hospital in your village to convince you to vote for him and perhaps built it. You may not have heard of them before, but you can always Google search: they will be reasonably well known.

Is that what all those people wearing Gandhi topis and waving tricolors all over the place, shouting “Anna, Anna”, crave for? Really?

I would like to think that it would be better to provide or force what they lack to the authorities responsible to ensure transparency and fair play: namely, autonomy, authority, powers and resources. The chances of success, however minuet they may be, will not be any lesser than having a new undemocratic super body.

What is good about Anna is the impact he had on the crowds. His ability to bring people to the streets in millions. Transparency in the whole system and effective implementation of the right to information Act are crucial and need nation-wide mass movement to have a chance to succeed. Anna has initiated it.

Of course, there are all kinds of people in the streets. There are those who have spent their lives fighting corruption and those who try to drive their agendas. There are hooligans and well-wishers, there are those who have come to capture a piece of history and those who have come to make some money or pickpocket. There are office-goers and the jobless, conservatives and liberals, Rightists and Leftists, social workers and sex workers, lovers and beggars, celebrities and the destitute….

There are also the youth, who caught the Anna fever from Facebook or college campuses, and who are having their first encounter with a national movement.

Hopefully, Anna is only a starting point for this new generation to become proactive and clean up the system.

1964 borges

today is jorge luis borges' 112th birthday. he was born on august 24, 1899 and died on june 14, 1986.

here is one of his poems that somewhat reflects my mood sometimes...

"1964"

I shan't be happy anymore. Maybe it doesn't matter.
There are so many other things in the world.
Any instant is more profound
And diverse than the sea. Life is short
And even if the hours are so long,
An obscure wonder awaits us.
Death, that other sea, that other arrow,
That free us from sun, moon
And love. The happiness you gave me
And took away, must be erased.
What was everything must turn into nothing.
Now I only have the joy of being sad.
That vain custom that takes me
To the south, to a certain street, to a certain corner.

dearest thampychayan...

this occasional sinking of spirit
a pointed pain at the centre of my chest
that grows heavy and beats with my heart

your image like flickering candlelight
when i think about you
my eyelids feel heavy and wet

you have been so light and easy
a true liberalist, rising and stooping
to reach levels with people

you laughed into people's heart

and laughed at their business of life,
earning respect and, yes, disrepute

laughing and browsing, drinking

and texting, you, downager, stuck
to the whims of your young heart

you said you couldn't love anyone
as much as your daughters, but, comrade,

you tried with your innumerable 'mols'

if only i could be as selfless,
if only i could kill my ego,

as effortlessly, as part of life

what would you say if you hear this?
you'll find a spoonerism, perhaps
slip into a nap in your chair

if i say you live in our spirits
you'd burst out to add
"in liquid form, cheers".

xxx---xxx---xxx

ps: but, thambichaaya, how will you resist

sharing the secret of afterlife with all of us, seriously?

you are reading half truths

Journalists have become ruthless news hunters, experts in extracting sensational stuff from almost nothing. There is no reporting. It doesn't matter what happened or what somebody meant, all we need is one name, one word, a slight hint that can make something controversial or sensational.

So when accused former telecom minister A Raja says before the court that the then FM said in front of the PM that equity dilution is not the same as disinvestment, it becomes 'Raja says FM, PM knew it all'!

Not just in India. When a report says Samsung has sold anywhere between 18-21 million smart phones in the second quarter, it becomes 'Samsung beats Apple' which has sold 20.4 million smart phones in the quarter. The chances of which is less than one-fourth as only the top band of the estimation is more than iPhone sales.

Why do they do it?

The idea for any newspaper or news channel is to make people read/watch them.

But if you want to know what has happened around the world, then well it seems there's nowhere to go.

Anyways these things don't matter –what raja says and what samsung does – do they? Except that they caught your attention in the morning. That's all it was meant for.

If you want something meaningful, go back to Mark Twain who said a half truth is the most cowardly of lies.

Girl from Argentina

I met Delfina on the last day of her first trip to India. I liked her.

She was lively and friendly, and she was completely at home in the subway coffee shop where we met.

“I will come back to India, I don't know when, but I will; it's so energetic...” She was loud and almost non-stop. Her brown eyes and wildly gesturing hands wouldn't stop while she paused for the right words.

Words didn't matter, not any more. She could have talked in Spanish, or Portuguese, or whatever they speak in her homeland Argentina. I couldn't have missed the unbound excitement of a traveller.

In two months, this young journalist from the other side of the planet travelled across Kerala, Karnataka, Mumbai, Nepal, Gorakhpur in eastern Uttar Pradesh and Delhi, by train, bus and on foot.

She found Nepal calm and peaceful. But she liked India more for all its noise, chaos and life. “You know what I mean?” I do, I do.

“They sleep on the street, have no drinking water, they don't even wear chappals, but everybody has a mobile phone.”

I can't explain, I resigned.

Delfina smiled and flew home that night.

A Dialogue

Part 1

Don't plead to me with your eyes,
It's futile
I don't see you the girl
I see only you the people

You never let me be
You made me one of us
What wrong did I do to you?
What wrong did my father and brother?

Don't plead to me with your eyes,
It's futile

You grouped us and preyed on us
You killed every individual in us

We moved in herds,
We lived in camps
Our names and faces
Just identity marks

Don't plead to me with your eyes,
It's futile

We are hungry and angry
We pray the same pray
We carry the same grudge
Together we suffer,
Feel the pain of every death

I know you don't know
It's not about you and I
It's about you and us

Don't plead to me with your eyes,
It's futile.

------------

Part 2

All I see in your eyes are ghosts
And I'm not scared

Don't stare at me, gunhead,
It's just flesh, earthly fun
You don't play, do you?
Masters of your soul won't let you

How did you lose it, my brother,
And let them take you over?

All I see in your eyes are ghosts
And I'm not scared

You and your masters
And your enemies, you fools,
Fight for power and space
In your small little world!

Look at us, our world
Made of fancy and fantasy
We have infinite power,
We have infinite space
(Dora is more fun
Than Norah next door)

All I see in your eyes are ghosts
And I'm not scared

Blink just once,
You won't, I know,
To shatter your illusions
And live in the moment

You want my head? Take it.
I have outgrown my body
And your dirty immaterial world

All I see in your eyes are ghosts
And I'm not scared.

---------

Note: I had two teenagers in mind - a terrorist and a metropolitan.

Encore, Joshua Bell live at Metro

Published in ET on April 29, 2010 (http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/articleshow/5870831.cms)

Rishi V K

Three years ago, Joshua Bell, one of the best classical musicians in the world, walked into a busy Washington metro subway station in jeans, T-shirt and a baseball cap and started playing his violin just like any street musician.

In the next 45 minutes Bell performed some of the best compositions ever written. Free for all.

Yet, there was hardly any listener.

More than a thousand people passed by and just seven stopped to give him an ear. And only one person identified Bell who collected $32.17 for the performance. Just three days earlier he had full-house show at Boston Symphony Hall where a decent seat went for $100.

The metro stunt when some of the best music fell on nobody’s ear was initiated by Washington Post columnist Gene Weingarten who used it to join the classic debate on beauty and highlight the frenetic pace of modern life. He got a Pulitzer for his article.

It could have happened anywhere. The response would not have been much different in Delhi or Mumbai. In fact, almost 20 years before Bell’s metro performance, rock star Bruce Springsteen once joined a street musician in Copenhagen to play a song. Not many people noticed him, either.

How come? It’s not that people are not interested in music. Some of those who passed by, completely ignoring Bell, may have been his fans. The US is after all the largest market for music, be it classical, rock, rap or live performance.

Yet, that day the superstar violinist was royally ignored. It’s not just life at the speed of light. People were busy, but they were in a hurry. In the video – it’s there on YouTube and Washington Post website — one can see many people strolling by without even noticing the musician.

In fact, there was a fairly long queue before a lottery machine in the station. People had to wait five to ten minutes for their turn. It might have been the most inactive 10 minutes of their day, yet nobody in the queue had time for a street musician. So what if he lends his soul to his music, they would rather listen to Joshua Bell in their iPod! Or, talk on their phone or chew on their nails.

Everybody was preoccupied. More in thoughts than in action. With the business of their lives; with hundreds of small and big tensions that make up their lives. From meeting an official deadline to picking up child from day care to booking a holiday to whatever, everybody is engrossed in their private tensions, their private lives, their private worlds.

Joshua Bell was alone in public world. And his music — loud and clear and beautiful — was there for everybody, to share and enjoy. Yet, very few got it.

The problem is with the system. It forces people to be on their own, to fend for themselves. It encourages selfishness and calls it competitiveness. It forces people to scramble for their lives and calls it fair play. The challenge is to amass maximum wealth.

Nobody is spared. Everybody is in a Formula One car, racing with everybody else. You are either a winner or a loser. Either way, you are alone, in your private, air-tight world.

It’s inhuman, yet this lifestyle was the most sought-after; at least then.

It was 2007, before the financial crisis rocked the world. Every country wanted to be the United States. Every people aspired for the American way of life — a lifestyle then president George Bush would not yet compromise.

And those people who walked through some of the best music with their ears shut are supposed to be among the luckiest, living the rest-of-the-world’s dream.

What is it that makes capitalism at the same time inhuman and romanticised? Why it is not challenged? Where are the world’s social philosophers? Are they talking alternatives? Why are their voices subdued?

Capitalism may or may not be the best system. But it is effective. And it’s selfish, like its successful practitioners.

Any person or idea that challenges it is labelled ‘communist’ or ‘loser’ or ‘unrealistic’ or whatever. These labels are assigned a negative connotation — a no-no zone for the smart and the hep.

Things could be changing though, however slightly. After the global crisis that felled once-deemed-invisible institutions such as Lehman Brothers and General Motors and forced a change in the American gas-guzzler way of life, there are more talks and action on sustainable growth, clean technology and regulated markets. They point to a less selfish, more human system.

There is no evidence that these changes and the saner voice of President Barack Obama have made Americans slow down a bit and keep their eyes and ears more open to the world around.

Perhaps it’s time Joshua Bell repeated his metro performance.

ends

Work for Microsoft, fly to South Africa…online frauds show the moon to steal pennies

An edited version of this was published in The Economic Times on May 22 (http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/infotech/internet/Protect-yourself-from-fake-online-job-offers-and-lotteries/articleshow/5960181.cms)

Rajiv Singh & Rishi V K
New Delhi

Dear Sunil C,
Virgin Atlantic is pleased to offer you a job in London. You will get a salary of 6,900 pounds per month plus family accommodation, free education for children, a brand new Toyota Camry, 15 days leave after every 90 working days and free flight tickets. To accept the offer, send a copy of your passport along with a demand draft of 1,000 pounds towards visa processing fee to Virgin.
Sender: Dr Williams Carter Lee, HR department, Virgin Atlantic London Extension. Email: virginatlantic@london.com, virgincareer@london.com

Sunil (name changed), a 38-year-old chartered accountant in Delhi, pinched himself before calling out to his wife Sonia.

A monthly salary of Rs 4.7 lakh! That’s more than four times what his current employer, a private internet firm, pays Sunil. That too, without even a telephonic interview, based on his profile at a placement portal.

It was April, but not the fool’s day.

Sunil checked out the UK airline’s website. He noted that the address, www.virgin-atlantic.com, was different from where the email had come from. Sure enough, the company's career site had a warning against job offer emails.

"It was embarrassing; Sonia had already broken the news to my parents and some friends before I realised it was a scam," says Sunil.

His offer had come from an online money laundering racket. One of many.

Such frauds are on the rise as they find easy preys to bogus job and lottery offers in a world where greed is inseparable from need.

Thousands of racketeers across the world are sending mails and calling up people on various pretexts to extract money and personal details such as credit card numbers and banking passwords and plunder crores of rupees.

Their attacks have intensified recently, fuelled by the growing use of internet and mobile phone as well as the general desperation of a global downturn that left millions jobless, mostly in the West.

In 2009, they are estimated to have duped 11.1 million Americans — almost 5% of its adult population — of $54 billion through bogus offers and identity theft, forcing regulators, banks and other institutions to spruce up the defence through warnings, denials, security alerts and most importantly mass awareness drives.

“The situation is really bad,” says Alpana Killawala, spokeswoman of the Reserve Bank of India.

The central bank will soon launch a television, print and internet campaign in 13 languages to spread awareness among people about such scams, she says. “We are in talks with TV channels for the slots and the campaign will be aired soon.”

It already runs a continuous ticker on its website, www.rbi.org.in, cautioning people of fictitious offers, lottery winnings and cheap fund offers.


Stealing You Softly

In this Age of Information, thieves don’t steal you at gunpoint; they make you happily give away money or key details of your bank account and credit card.

These scamsters are populated across the world, working in groups or on their own, creating websites and email addresses such as adidas@adidas.org that sounds official addresses of established institutions and shooting off job and lottery offers. Or, creating fictitious accounts and sending spam mails saying the recipient is the chosen one to inherit the assets of a millionaire with no family. Or, just calling up people pretending to be a bank executive calling to verify their personal details such as date of birth, address, internet banking password...

Around the same time as Sunil got his not-even-once-in-a-lifetime offer from Virgin Atlantic, Manish P, a software engineer working with a Delhi-based small company, got a much more believable email purportedly from Korean electronics maker Sansui Technologies India.

It was an invitation for the final interview for a Rs 2.5 lakh-plus job. He had to pay Rs 6,050 as surety before the company send him flight tickets and hotel booking details to attend the interview in New Delhi on May 14. (Imagine a Delhi-Delhi flight ticket.) The money was to be deposited in favour of Mr Ajay Kumar Gupta at Shivalik Mercantile Bank A/C no 169810100006001 latest by May 5.

Manish did not do it. Neither did Mike K, another software engineer working in Delhi, who received a similarly worded offer from Intex India. In this case, the surety amount of Rs 5,250 was to be deposited at EDC (Ernakulam District Cooperative) Bank A/C no 2489734535646 by April 7.

They were smart enough to check if the mail was genuine. After all, these companies were only a local call away for these Delhiites.

Suveer Kumar Gupta, CEO of Saharanpur (UP)-based Shivalik Mercantile Bank, denied any money transfer from the bank. “This email (fake job offer mail) is misusing our name and is detrimental to our good image and reputation,” he told ET. “We have already lodged a complaint with The Additional Commissioner of Police, Cyber Crimes Division, New Delhi," he added.

When contacted, C Bhanu, general manager of the Kochi-based bank, expressed shock that his bank is used by online frauds. “We are not at all aware of such incidents. It's shocking,” he said. “We will get the information published in newspapers so that people may become aware of such frauds,” he said.

Mr Gupta too said his bank is trying to spread awareness among customers to prevent any misuse.

Experts say these fraudsters use small banks to run such scams because it's easy for them to evade detection. “Most of the small banks in India don't have sufficient mechanism and technical knowhow to detect frauds of such scale,” says Mahesh Singh, a Delhi-based cyber crime analyst. “So, they become easy target.”

Also, it is easier to open and close accounts in smaller banks, experts say. Fly-by-night accounts. In fact, by the time ET contacted Shivalik Mercantile Bank and EDC Bank, the said accounts did not exist.

These fraudsters appear so genuine. They can issue certificates, letters and circulars on letterheads that look like that of the Reserve Bank of India or any other organisation, duly signed by senior officials, to make such offers look genuine. They provide telephone numbers and e-mail IDs that look genuine.

While multinational rackets mostly take bigger bets with big-dollar job offers and migration, smaller players are content with TV coupons and gift processing or shipping fee.

With the use of mobile phones spreading much faster than the use of the Internet, many fraudsters now reach their victims through the phone.


Easy Preys

An ET journalist recently got a missed call from a Pakistan number. When he returned the call, one Arjun Singh told him that he had won Rs 15 lakh lottery from Airtel, his mobile operator. Singh claimed he was at Airtel office in Mumbai, but hung up when asked why his Mumbai number carries Pakistan country code.

And there are those who call up behalf of banks and other service providers to “verify” your credit card, account and contact details. Only to steal your identity and money.

In the last two years, India lost more than Rs 115 crore to online banking frauds and the number of cases more than doubled last year, minister of state for finance Namo Narain Meena told the Rajya Sabha last week.

Many Indians are also falling for international lottery scams. The Reserve Bank of India has clarified several times that the Foreign Exchange Management Act, 1999, prohibits sending money abroad for securing price money and awards or to participate in lottery and money circulation schemes. Yet, many people break the law, only to be cheated.

“When it comes to interacting safely online, the awareness level of Indian Web users is dramatically low,” says Rajiv Chadha, vice president of internet security service provider VeriSign.

Nine out of every 10 internet users in the country have experienced cyber threats, he says quoting a recent study commissioned by VeriSign. Yet, 83% of the people do not check if a website is genuine.

It’s this lack of awareness that helps the new-age goons expose the virtual reality that the cyber police is.

Lawmakers have yet to find ways to police the countless labyrinths of the cyber world.

“At present, the law is a toothless tiger against emerging cyber threats,” says Pavan Duggal, a Supreme Court advocate and cyber law expert.

In India, the IT Act does not even cover such scams; they are considered cheating offence under the Indian Penal Code, which is bailable and easy to get away, he says.

More developed countries have stronger cyber laws, but they are unable to check such scams because racketeers can operate virtually from any part of the world.

As many as 11.1 million adults in the US lost $54 billion through identity theft last year, according to a recent study by Javelin Strategy & Research, an independent provider of research focused exclusively on financial services.

The US Federal Bureau of Investigation, or FBI, recently said cybercrime is the third-highest priority for the intelligence agency after terrorism and counterintelligence.

The US Federal Trade Commission recently launched ‘Opeartion Bottom Dollar’ and the Australasian Consumer Fraud Taskforce last month ran a weeklong campaign, Online Offensive — Fighting Fraud Online.

Private companies such as mobile firms, banks and security service providers too are trying to alert their users against such scams through advertisements, messages and webpage postings.

While most companies have posted warning messages on their websites, very few are taking any initiative to combat the fraudsters and take them to the law. They leave it to the victims.

"If a member of the public has fallen victim to these sort of issues (bogus offers on behalf of the company) then we would advise them to report the matter to their local law enforcement authority," says Katie Francis, interim press officer at Virgin Atlantic Airways.

Cyber security experts say there is no way companies can go after scamsters because there is no end to it. Anybody can potentially run such a racket from any corner of the world.

So, it requires international cooperation to take them on. But, so far, there is no major international initiative to counter online fraud except for a European Commission (EC) plan to form an EU agency to tackle cybercrime.


Wake Up Call

While the stout bureaucrats take their own time to build a cyber defence, the agile scamsters have backed their superior technical knowhow with sharp marketing skills to create a deadly mix. They don’t miss out on big events.

Right now, they are feasting on the upcoming 2010 FIFA World Cup football championship with offers of prizes, free tickets and stay for the biggest event of the world’s most popular game.

With the kickoff less than a month away, thousands of e-mails and phone messages are crowding inboxes, informing recipients that they have won substantial sums as lottery awarded by world soccer governing body FIFA and South Africa’s World Cup Local Organising Committee (LOC), or brands associated with the tournament such as German sports goods maker Adidas.

FIFA has issued several media releases, starting from back in 2005, disowning such mails and messages. Adidas website carries a warning that it has nothing to do with adidas.org. "The Adidas Group would like to warn consumers that emails from adidas@adidas.org claiming that the recipient has won US$800,000 are fake," it reads.

They lure their victims with various offers, from jobs to free tickets for FIFA World Cup Football, and urge them to send visa charges or processing fees that could be anything from TV recharge coupons to tens of dollars in foreign exchange.

While multinational rackets mostly take bigger bets with big-dollar job offers and migration, smaller players are content with TV coupons and gift processing or shipping fee.

It is easy to fall for their tricks. Robert Mueller, director of the FBI, some months back admitted that he was one click away from sending his bank account information to phishers.

The only way to check them is to be alert. At an individual level.

“Remember, there are no free lunches. Do not believe in any unbelievable offer,” says Mr Duggal. "Any law comes into play only after the crime has been committed. So, the best thing to do is to exercise due diligence and caution."

Banks, mobile operators, job portals and other institutions such as ICICI Bank, Airtel and TimesJobs.com alert people against such scams through messages, media campaigns and sometimes through timely interventions.

The ET journalist earlier mentioned got a message from the phone operator warning against calling unknown number and sharing personal details, within hours of calling up the Pakistan number.

Yet, while almost every company is screaming caution, nobody seems to be listening.

According to VeriSign’s Rajiv Chadha, more than 60% of the internet users in India access the Web at least 4-6 times a week and many of them are using it for shopping and banking. But only 9% of the users are aware of visual cues such as the green address bar that signifies it is a secure site, according to the VeriSign survey conducted by IMRB among 5,000 Internet users across 10 cities in 2009.

It’s time to wake up.

"As long as you are alert, you can't be duped. It's only when you drop your caution and give in to the 'incredible' offer of the fraudster that the problem starts," says Vivek Madhukar, VP, TimesJobs.com, a job search site of the Times of India group.

ends