Implementing the Joshi Method

SPEAKING VOLUMES

After following the debates over the NCERT textbooks, the kerfuffle over the IITs and the recent imbroglio over the issue of slashing fees at the IIMs, I am shocked. How is it that no-one is ready to applaud Murli Manohar Joshi for his grand vision, or see that his methods are designed to fit in with the current India Shining campaign?

If you implement the Joshi Method as applied to school textbooks in the field of Indian writing, this is what would happen. All novels will be written by a committee of dubious experts, instead of, as is the deplorable practice now, by a lone amateur. Our slavish genuflection before the twin altars of grammar and comprehensibility will be done away with; future authors of Midnight's Children will write in a hybrid language that marries the best of Babu Bureaucratese and Call Centre English.

For instance, the Joshi version of The God of Small Things would include a diatribe on how Leftist governments had ruined the minds of the masses, the Kathakali performer would warn Rahel and Estha that all would be well if they just had their horoscopes checked, and Arundhati Roy's prose would be shorn of all imagery and lyricism and set down in point form instead, for the benefit of future readers.

If you implement the Joshi Method as applied to the IITs to the field of Indian sports, we would see an instant improvement in our results. The question for IITians as well as for sportsmen is not how to produce better students or better players, but how to magnify the results and allow wider segments of the population to participate. The answer is simple.

Widen the goalposts. Let football games have magnificent scores of 64-57 instead of the current puny 1-0 numbers, by placing the goalposts in the far corners of the field. Make the stumps bigger in cricket and use large plastic balls, and watch as bowlers and batsmen improve their averages to a point where no other nation could compete unless they also follow suit.

In the case of IITians, it is true that they may no longer find themselves courted by the first echelon of blue-chip companies, but think of the job opportunities that would open up for cut-rate IIT engineers among fourth-rate or fifth-rate companies. It's a brand-new world out there, just waiting to be explored "" something like winning the kabbadi gold at the Olympics.

If you implement the Joshi Method as applied to the IIMs to the field of Indian politics, why then India won't just be shining but glowing.

The idea behind slashing fees and demanding lower teacher-student ratios is simple: make the IIM culture accessible to all, provide the IIM chaap to more and more students, and never mind that the brand may be irredeemably diluted along the way. The alternative would have been to focus on improving and enlarging second-or-third-rung management institutes, but as Joshi is no doubt aware, it takes far less time to tear down an institution than it does to build worthy clones.

What he's done is a more intricate version of shifting the goalposts, and it is such an excellent blueprint that there is no reason why it shouldn't be applied to the political sphere as well.

As with the IIMs, so with the Lok Sabha. Slash the perks of MPs, and slash the funds available for their constituencies "" most of them have a hard time spending the allocated sums on development anyway, so all you're doing is getting a ton of useless paperwork out of the way. It takes far too much time to try and prune the criminal element out of the political class, so reverse-engineer the process: invite more certified criminals to join the Lok Sabha, where they will be subjected to the influence of an already established brand of excellence, and no doubt reform far faster than they would have, rotting in jail.

Perhaps you're wondering whether I'm being facetious: perish the thought. I ran a mathematical model of the Joshi Method through several tests, and am happy to report that it is (a) astrologically sound "" the planets are in favourable alignment (b) Vaastu and Feng shui correct and (c) follows all the laws of Vedic mathematics.

I Allan Sealy, Prophet: MM Kaye, who died on January 29, had at least one immortal work to her credit ""The Far Pavilions, which did for the Raj what Barbara Cartland did for torn bodices. Years ago, I Allan Sealy lampooned historical novels in The Trotter-nama, which contained a small section on How The Raj Is Done. He listed the following ingredients: "An elephant, a polo club, a snake, a length of rope, a rajah or a pearl of price (some use both), a silver moon, a dropped glove, a railway junction, some pavilions in the distance, a chota peg, a tent peg, a learned brahmin, a cruel king, a chapati (or chaprasi), a measure of justice, gunpowder (q.v.), equal portions of law and order, a greased cartridge, a tamarind seed or else a cavalry regiment, a moist eye, some high intentions, two pax of Britannica, Glucose biscuits, an ounce of valour, something in the middle, a Victoria Cross, a soupcon of suspense (q.v), a bearer, a dhobi (or dhoti), a chee-chee, a dekchi (or deck-chair), a pinch of dust, a trickle of perspiration, a backdrop with temples or mosques (some use both), a church pew, a little fair play, a boar, some tall grass, a tiger, a rain cloud, a second snake or a mongoose, a flutter of the heart, a sharp sword, a bared ankle, walnut juice or burnt cork (some use both), a boy of British blood unsullied, a locket."

You will notice that Sealy covered his bets both past and future. Kaye's The Far Pavilions contained some pavilions in the distance plus other ingredients; E M Forster's A Passage to India contained the backdrop with temples or mosques and more; Kim is well-represented as is Heat and Dust and Bhowani Junction. Long after Sealy wrote this, we had Hari Kunzru's The Impressionist, which contained: a polo club, a rajah, a chota peg, a tent peg, a measure of justice, a moist eye, some high intentions, a boar and a boy of British blood (sullied, though). Timuri N Murari's Taj contains everything from a learned Brahmin to a cruel king to a rain cloud to a soupcon of suspense, even though it's set in Mughal, not Raj, India"" proving that some conventions merely change very slightly across sub-genres.

The winner of the Sealy Order of the Empire is undoubtedly the late Rebecca Ryman, whose Olivia and Jai contained everything listed bar the tamarind seed and Glucose biscuits. It did, however, include a locket, for which she gets extra points.

nilroy@lycos.com