Guwahati, the capital of the state of Assam

Guwahati means "areca nut market," which is a literal, commerce-oriented name for a city that serves its economic function well enough, but doesn't have a lot of charm to spare.


Below is a picture of the Brahmaputra, the enormous river that led people to settle in Assam long ago. It really looks more like a lake, it is so massive.


There is supposedly a temple to Shiva in the middle of the river and a temple for Sati, one of the incarnations of his wife Parvati, on the far shore. But I couldn't see either from where I was. "Sati" is also the name of the custom of widow burning, in reference to a myth about Sati self-immolating in rage after her father insulted her new husband, Shiva. (Although, in her father's defence, how many people really hope their daughter will bring the destroyer of the universe home for dinner?) Shiva, in his grief over Sati's death, walked around India carrying her ashen corpse, and there is a temple every place a bit of her is supposed to have fallen. Assam's temple is where, well, Sati's girl parts fell.

How is it I feel both somewhat abashed about being too risque here, what with my exposed ankles, and also like I am constantly being exposed as a total prude, what with my squeamishness about a religion making reference to charred genitals?

Anyhow, the only really interesting tourist spot in Guwahati was Nehru park, which featured some typically patriotic things, such as this column bearing the symbol of India:


And a garden with bronze statues posed as if performing various traditional North East Indian dances:


And a colorful statue of a dragon, perhaps out of some local folktale...


About a dragon fighting a Tyrannosaurus Rex...


Even as both of them are being stalked by some sort of zombie bear...


Or ape, or maybe even a dog. And this zombie has a really impressive set of dentures.

The insanity of the very car sick

Not everyone knows this about me, but I am an extremely accomplished inventor. Well, except that I never actually implement any of my innovations. But in the past I have invented an electronic Christmas registry service that malls should promote to parents of teenagers; a Tim Gunn Advisor Doll, inspirational tool for budding artists and graduate students alike; and a children’s party clothing/Halloween outfit/school play costume service that would run on the model of Netflix. My newest invention was inspired by the Shillong-to-Guwahati road, which I took yesterday, arriving in Guwahati. Where I still am now, as a stop-over point on my way to Kolkata/Calcutta.

The asphalt on that road is in truly dreadful repair. There are potholes that have appeared where the previous, underlying pox were not sufficiently filled in, so that the sides of the pothole reveal four or five different layers of asphalt that were laid down over time, like the stripes of sediment revealed by as a river cuts a canyon through millions of years of rock. There are new, sharply defined craters in the road, and others that have eroded into gently sloped lakebeds. There are places where the many divots in the road have spread out to meet each other, so that the whole of the road becomes an undulating asphalt surface. And there is a nice layer of gravel and dislodged road bits over everything, making the flat we got about 15 minutes outside of Guwahati all but inevitable. And, keep in mind: this is in a place where temperatures do not even fluctuate that widely.

Of course, this is not a particularly unique situation, within India, or the world. I am sure some of you who study other parts of the developing world are rolling your eyes, wondering what I am complaining about since this road was, apparently, at least paved at some point. And you are thinking of the faint footpaths that serve as the channels for moving humans—uphill both ways in the monsoon—in the places you have traveled. Thus: the need for my invention.

We all know that the state of the world’s roads is not the result of technology. Humans know how to build good roads. The problem is corruption in the process of building the roads. In many countries, being Minister of Roads is way better than some dead end job like running the Ministry of State. Huge amounts of graft go into making roads: the bribes that go into convincing the government to fund new roads; the bribes that pass in terms of who gets the contracts associated with that funding; and—most critical for the quality of those roads—the pocketing of most of those funds, so that all that gets laid down is a wee thin layer of gravel and tar that comes up several kilometers short of the span it was supposed to cover and begins to get torn up even as the construction workers drive home to enjoy a day’s half-assed job.

My idea: the government should mandate that roads be made out of some sort of lattice of cobblestones, except not cobblestones but something like cement hexagons. And the cement hexagons will all be made at only a few plants, where the government could monitor that the thickness of the hexagons was sufficient. (Maybe even foreign plants, if the economies of scale dictate this, but that could cause domestic outcry). This would be in contrast to making roads from gravel and tar, which can be manufactured in lots of places, making it more difficult monitoring whether the materials are well made, and whether the contractors are actually buying all they should be. So, when the Guwahati contractor orders the hexagons, it is easy to check that he took delivery of as many as he said he would, and to count the number of the blocks that are going into the road, as opposed to only being able to check on the thickness of the asphalt only after it has already been laid and only by cutting a little hole in the road. The contractor could steal hexagons and sell them on the black market, I suppose, or try to file some of the cement off the hexagons before he laid them down, but that would be, hopefully, more effort than it was worth. And it would definitely be less efficient an opportunity for corruption than walking into the gravel pit, ordering too little gravel, and giving the gravel man a small bribe to alter the invoice.

My idea is no panacea, of course, but what I figure is that it would at least help matters if it were harder to cut corners on the materials that go into the road. In some ways, I am just moving the opportunities for corruption around and up the chain, but I think I am also making them fewer in number. Also, moving corruption opportunities up the chain means, on the upside, that the central government has an incentive to implement the Hexagon Program, even if they are a bunch of louts themselves. Maybe the idea is net bad, though, since there is more money to be made at each point in the production chain (with just a few plants in operation) and thus bigger incentives for corruption. Probably, there would need to be a pilot study, perhaps in someplace like Zambia, which, one of my advisors informs me, only has two paved roads. Good to start small.

The scheme has other downsides, too. The gravel and tar people would now be selling to the hexagon-makers, who might be able to pay them low rates since they could not sell as widely. And, perhaps most troubling, I have no idea if this idea for road construction is technically feasible or remotely affordable. In fact, I am not even completely sure I have accurately described the components of asphalt under the status quo. (I could look on Wikipedia, but the connection here isn’t very fast). Still, I think maybe some engineering types can take my idea and figure out those details. I think it would also be good if they could make either the hexagons or the material holding them together act as a carbon sink, so that the road would be absorbing CO2 even as the drivers were producing it. So someone should really get on all of this.

So, economists, engineers, and development agencies of the world: I offer you another of my brilliant inventions. Free of charge. It is the least we creative geniuses can do.

Shillong Boy Amit: singing sensation? Or potential instrumental variable?

Some pictures from the Khasi Hills of Meghalaya and Shillong, the capital of the state

The British had their regional colonial capital in Shillong - they, like me, were apparently completely enchanted by the brisk temperatures, overcast skies, and frequent drizzle. For people from England or Michigan, moist, cold weather is like a return to the womb. The British also thought Meghalaya looked a lot like Scotland, which I guess it does, in the vague sort of way that penne-is-to-Pad-Thai. But they proceeded to build a lot of exposed timber, "ye olde country shoppe" style buildings, like the church above.

In other important Shillong news, Amit Paul, runner-up on Indian Idol is a native of this fair city. And, oddly enough, the place I am going next, Darjeeling, is home to the winner of Indian Idol! Is, perhaps, Indian Idol success an important predictor of political mobilization for one's own state???? Or vice-versa???? Afterall, Indian Idol is based on the community working together to text message their local son to greatness. I just know there is amazing social science waiting to be done here. My advisor once used familiarity with Abba songs in a paper, so I think there is even a precedent.

And, then, I was Al Gore's Official Representative in India

Back in Delhi, one of my interviewees, learning that I was planning to travel to Shillong, invited me to attend the 2nd People's Parliament of Meghalaya. It was billed as a sort of grassroots , alternative to partisan democracy, khum-bye-yah sort of event. To protest official corruption, deplore party divisions, and celebrate the wisdom of the people.

And, of course, I jumped at the chance. I mean, this is comparative political science bread'n'butter - the kind of firsthand political observation (and blurred, not terribly informative pictures) that I can trot out for years to come in order to demonstrate that I have the kind of deep cultural insight that can only be gained in The Field. (I mean, the internet cafe I am currently sitting in has a sign reading "No Porn Sites Please or Else" and featuring a clip art picture of someone pointing a gun at a kitten with its paws in the air. You just can't get that kind of "WTF?" moment out of a book.)

And, in fact, the People's Parliament was a huge success for gleaning comparativist cred, and I will devote a whole post to describing it later. But it also served as a chance for me to venture once again into the realm of American public diplomacy.

You see, the People's Parliament had bestowed this session's International Award on ex-Vice President of the United States, Al Gore for his work on climate change. They invited Al Gore to come and collect the award but, apparently, his schedule did not allow for it. They also invited the US Consulate to send a representative to receive the honor on his behalf. Not such a far-fetched request, since someone from the Calcutta office attended the first People's Parliament. (By the way, no other embassy sent an actual person instead of just a little message, so one point in the State Department's favor, anyhow.) But, here's the thing: the woman from the consulate arrives on the morning of the Parliament, and she will not accept the award!!

Does anyone who studies American politics know if this is normal? Is it expected that a Republican administration wouldn't accept an honor bestowed on a Democrat? Or was the snub specific to Al Gore, what with the continued bad feelings around the popular vote, Florida, chads, and the whole works? Or was it because the award was about combating climate change, a trend the present administration is hell-bent on accelerating?

That final hypothesis, in my mind, is supported by the consulate's message to the Parliament (read aloud during the ceremonies) which congratulated the people of Meghalaya on their success in preserving 79 sacred forests in their state but failed to mention the rally's statements on climate change. No doubt, the consulate's enthusiasm for conserving the sacred forests would have been damped if someone had mentioned that you aren't allowed to hunt or even ride your ATV in those hallowed woods.

So, again, I'm giving the US thoroughly middling marks for public diplomacy. Seems like a pretty shameful slight of the organizers. Although, it occurs to me that I would not accept an award on George W's behalf. But the mere thought of him makes the tears of rage well in my eyes. No one could hate Al Gore that way. His turn on Saturday Night Live was just too lovable.

Be that as it may, they had to give the award to someone. And that someone was... me. My qualification for that job being that I am a US citizen. In fact, I have even been to Tennessee. And so I was photographed receiving Mr. Gore's award from a Khasi syiem and will appear in the local papers as emissary of Al Gore in India. (Although, I highly doubt my name will be spelled correctly, so perhaps that will minimize any potential legal ramifications associated with impersonating a major public figure). The inconvenient truth in all of this being that I have never even seen Al Gore in person nor is my existence known to him. In fact, I wasn't even that enthusiastic about my vote for him in 2000. But nonetheless, I was Al Gore for the day.

I hope I will run into Rumsfeld sometime next year at Stanford, so that I can look at him with the haughty disdain of one who outranked him in the Presidential succession.

Off to Cloud City

Hello on October 2nd, birthday of the Mahatma Gandhi! If you are Indian, admire non-violent resistance, or just generally feel Winston Churchill is over-rated, then consider taking the day off.

Tomorrow I am going to leave Delhi for the start of a six week jaunt through two places that have had movements seeking their own states. First, I am heading to Meghalaya ("abode of the clouds") which holds the first and second place world records for most rain ever recorded in one miserably damp place in a year. Meghalaya used to be part of Assam (as in "Assam tea") but it successfully filed for divorce. Second, I will go to Darjeeling, as in "Darjeeling tea". Then I will go to Kolkata (formerly, Calcutta), which is the capital of the state Darjeeling just can't seem to quit.

Meghalaya has a population of two million people, and it is quite a ways off the beaten track for most Indians. Like, quick: what's the third largest city in South Dakota? Because Aberdeen and Meghalaya have roughly the same degree of public visibility in their respective nation's consciousness. Meghalaya people often compare themselves to Native American areas, in that they were in India before the in-migrations/conquests of people speaking languages derived from Sanskrit. It is the Sanskrit-ites, with their many-limbed gods, high respect for cows, and elaborate caste system, that define a lot of what we think of as Indian. In short: in Meghalaya, they eat beef. I only hope they are in the practice of turning some of that cow flesh into something akin to a hamburger.

I don't really know what the odds are of that. Frankly, I have no idea what to expect in terms of how this will compare to Delhi and other parts of India I have seen. The area is definitely going to be a lot less developed and there will be fewer outsiders running around. So I will be saying good-bye to my all-day electricity and I don't know what to expect in terms of running water. On the other hand, the British let missionaries come into animist Meghalaya but barred them from Hindu areas. So, in some respects, westernization is supposedly high in Meghalaya: lots of speaking of English, lots of Christianity.

Oh, by the way, I am staying at the Presbyterian church's guest house. I anticipate having much to report.