Pattern of violence in North East

We still don’t know how ‘landmark’ the landmark Naga peace accord will turn out to be, as NE watchers like Bibhu Routray have pointed out. However, what we do know is that the Indian government has done a good job at reducing violence in the region in the past decade. Looking at stats from the authoritative SATP, it becomes clear that after a peak of more than 1000 insurgency*-related deaths in each of the years 2007 and 2008, the numbers have less than halved.

Most NE watchers, as well as the MHA, still like to classify violence in the seven sisters as ‘insurgency’, though a more granular look at the data shows this is only partially true, depending on the respective states. As per a noted journalist who’s reported from NE for nearly 3 decades, the percentage of civilian deaths in Assam show that at least some insurgent groups there have “morphed” into terrorist groups. The journalist and another researcher from IDSA drove home the point that Naga insurgents had largely stayed true to their oath, avoiding targeting of civilians. The journalist also stressed that post the 1997 ceasefire, most deaths in Nagaland had come from inter-group rivalries. Deaths of insurgents accounted for nearly 75% (430 out of 551) of total insurgency-related deaths in Nagaland. The journalist’s claim about inter-gang rivalries seems true, since the unusually high ratio of deaths of insurgents to that of security personnel (nearly 40:1) for Nagaland suggests that killing insurgents might not have been the handiwork of security forces alone.

*A researcher from IDSA informed me that terrorism and insurgency were distinguished on the basis of the motive and expanse of their targets. While the former indulges in mass-killings with only a vague motive, the latter avoids mindless killings of civilians, with the attacks having a clear-cut motive.

This is for your birthday

I’ve heard people saying that “life is an exercise in acquisition of memories.” Not with you around.

With you around, life is an exercise in anticipation of a smile. Or should I say, was. Of course, the smile came bundled with sometimes near depression-inducing stress, umpteenth sleepless nights and the possibility of a fist-fight with the ‘atheists.’

I don’t know why my usual lust for rationality couldn’t make me question my turning into a worshipper the first time I saw you. It had to be either my gullible 7 year self or the usual perils that come with turning into a worshipper. It must have been the latter, for those questions never arose, even at much advanced stages of my life. Damn, the only time I hated my lust for rationality was when I was inclined to disbelieve a stray piece proclaiming Obama got to know of you because your presence in the Green Temple caused a 5% decrease in US workers’ productivity. Nonetheless, I never dared to crosscheck it. It must have been true.

It’s so hard to write this piece because everytime I think of something, I drift off into the swarm of recollections in my mind. How the only time I prayed to the heavens from the depths of my being was for you; how the first time I abused was when I interrogated my barber and his acolytes over their raison d’etre upon their criticism of you; how I wouldn’t let my mother so much as move an inch from her position, notwithstanding her back ache, while you were still there; how I turned into a serial liar to skip school for you, and how I secretly thanked my parents for pretending to believe that I had the propensity to suffer from stomach aches only on the days your devotees had a chance to see you; how an atheist chum (yeah, that’s an oxymoron for me) wrote to me about you on Feb 24, 2010, saying, “Vo bhagwaan hai” and how I replied saying “Atheists turn believers, that’s who you call God”; how, while passing by SCG last year in broad daylight, I slipped into a dream where I watched you thump the fastest bowler in the world straight past him to the boundary; how I wondered the only fallacy you ever committed was looking up to the sky while raising the bat, instead of just getting a mirror.

As is the wont of blind lovers, I could never bring myself to the realization that there would come a day when the seemingly eternal tap of elixir would dry up. Perhaps the fear of your dreams turning to your memories held me back. Perhaps I was too selfish to let go of my greatest source of happiness. I thought I’d grow old with you, but you proved better than a mere mortal even in that department. After you departed, I tried not talking of you, tried avoiding your all pervading legacy, or even thinking about you. It just helped me keep away from reality, because reality can hurt.

But here I am, recounting precisely those moments which have indeed turned into memories, never to be buried under an avalanche of new ones. It doesn’t matter anymore if you were the greatest. It doesn’t matter if you deserved the Bharat Ratna or the way round. I was, and still am, too stooped in belief to think of the trivialities. All that matters is your memories. At first I was too scared to acquire them, now I just can’t let go of them.

Happy Birthday, You.

Is 42 the answer?

This post is being written on sheer popular demand (as many as, like, two people had urged me to write this).

It's a much more detailed version of my article for Mint, where I tried to decode the mystery surrounding Union-State transfers, but could not include several critical points due to space constraint. 

Under “bibliography” (pardon the dogged misalignment in paras). I have also pinpointed the sources from within the budget documents which will help readers have a look at the numbers for themselves and do further research. I am quite sure that such clarity on budget documents, especially in relation to fund transfers, exists nowhere in public domain. I’d like to express my heartfelt gratitude to Ms. Indira Rajaraman (Member, 13^th Finance Commission) and Dr. Abhijit Sen (Member, 14^th Finance Commission), who spent hours on the phone with me, helping me zero in on the required information.

I wrote the Mint article in response to 14th FC's recommendation to transfer 42% of funds to states as tax devolution. Following questions in my mind were the trigger:

1.     42% of WHAT?

2.     Why is this being hailed as a (heroin) shot in the arm for federalism?

3.     What have been the past trends regarding fund transfers?

Finding answers to the above questions requires one to know that the nature of transfers that happen from Union to states is either tied or untied. As the name suggests, tied transfers indicate that the central government exercises tight control over how these funds are used by the states, whereas untied funds can be used by the state government at its whim. It is because the 14th Finance Commission has recommended a sharp increase in the share of untied funds, that its decision has been welcomed.

Tied or untied, the transfers take place under three broad categories-

1.     Statutory transfers (recommended by Finance Commission),

2.     Plan transfers

3.     Non-plan grants (not recommended by Finance Commission).

However, a fourth kind of transfer, called direct transfer, was in vogue between 2006-07 and 2013-14. In a welcome move that helps reduce corruption, it was entirely scrapped by the first budget of Modi government in 2014-15, and made part of plan transfers, which means they’re now routed through the state government. More on this later.

Delving further, each of the above three categories has subdivisions. The statutory transfers are further categorised under two heads- tax devolution and grants. Plan transfers have several subcategories, and explanation pertinent to the issue at hand will be made later. The share of the non-plan grants (not recommended by Finance Commission) in total transfers is tiny - generally between 1% and 2% - and involves compensation to states, such as the kind promised for introduction of GST. The direct transfers used to go to state and district-level implementing agencies, to aid Centrally Sponsored Schemes (CSS), but have now been made part of plan transfers.

Besides the several categories under which it happens, what makes funds transfers far more complex is that certain funds lie between being entirely tied and entirely untied. An example of this is Backward Region Grants Fund (BRGF), which is a part of plan transfers. However, for the sake of this analysis, the funds under different heads have been considered as either wholly tied or wholly untied. This is not an entirely unfair assumption.

The statutory transfers have been considered untied. Plan grants, except for two components – Normal Central Assistance (NCA) and Special Central Assistance (SCA) – have been considered tied. The tiny share of non-plan grants has been considered untied. The erstwhile direct transfers have been considered tied. The table below summarises the above discussion.

Kind of transfer	Nature (tied/untied)	Further categorization
Statutory transfers	Untied	Tax devolution, grants
Plan transfers	Tied, except NCA and SCA	Several categories
Non-plan grants	Untied	Different kinds of compensation
Direct transfers (now discontinued)	Tied	Money under different CSS

Answering the above three questions

The famous figure of 42% forms the tax devolution, a part of statutory transfers. It denotes the money received by the states as proportion of the ‘divisible pool’ of central taxes. The divisible pool is the part of central taxes that has to be shared with the states. The divisible pool has hovered around 87% of total central taxes in the past 5 years, and excludes certain kinds of surcharges levied by the centre. In absolute terms, in 2015-16, the states will get a total of Rs. 5.24 trillion, or 42% of the divisible pool, which amounts to Rs. 12.47 trillion.

Besides this untied transfer worth Rs. 5.24 lakh crore, other untied transfers take the total quantum of untied transfers to Rs. 6.32 lakh crore. The total tied transfers amount to Rs. 2.21 lakh crore, which means the net amount transferred to states for 2015-16 is Rs. 8.53 lakh crore. This represents a paltry jump of 8% from the previous year’s funds.

However, what matters is that 74% of the funds are untied. This represents a leap of 12 percentage points from the previous year. This number – highlighting the jump in share of untied transfers – is the key to increased fiscal autonomy of states.

However, as seen in the graph above, despite the big jump in share of untied transfers this year, this move is only an attempt to restore things to how they were before 2006-07, the year in which direct transfers started. In 2005-06, a much bigger 78% of total transfers to states were untied. This number collapsed to 65% the following year, on account of introduction of tied direct transfers. There was yet another collapse in share of untied transfers to 57%, when UPA-II, emboldened by its electoral victory, announced its first budget in 2009-10. This budget saw near-doubling of funds under direct transfers, to Rs. 96000 crore, to aid some of its flagship schemes such as MGNREGS.

  

As mentioned above, the scrapping of direct transfers in 2014-15 provides a massive boost to the cause of transparency. These funds, to the tune of Rs. 1.4 trillion in 2013-14, were subject to poor regulatory oversight and lax standards of accounting. In several reports tabled in Parliament, CAG had raised red flags about this issue, even as the share of direct transfers kept growing rapidly. The infamous NRHM scam in UP, during Mayawati’s tenure as CM, stands as an exemplar of the peril of direct transfers.

In its bid to provide more untied funds, the central government has had to inevitably reduce allocations under other categories. As already highlighted by Abhijit Sen, the sole dissenting member of 14th Finance Commission, giving the states such a free hand all of a sudden might not have the desired impact. He points to scrapping of critical schemes such as BRGF and RKVY, which had allegedly been catalysts in rural development and agricultural growth, respectively. Till 2014-15, BRGF was meant to go exclusively to backward regions in different states, which were free to spend it on their development. Now, the state governments receiving this money are under no such obligation. Mr. Sen has also claimed that the net amount transferred to Panchayats across the country will be lesser than what it was during 2014-15. Thus, even as the second tier of governance - state governments - stands to benefit, the third tier - local bodies - stands to lose out, or be reliant on the benevolence of respective state governments. Frankly, I think this is a blessing in disguise for the nation. Massive unbridled funds for Panchayats,post 73rd amendment, have only given rise to political rivalry and added another thick layer to corruption. Blind advocacy of devolution of power and funds is mostly right-wing ballyhoo. I have had a good, albeit vicarious, experience of this while assisting my dad, who happens to be a district magistrate.

Besides BRGF, the other untied parts of plan transfer – NCA and SCA – have also been scrapped and made part of tax devolution. Earlier, most of these grants went to special-category states, at least some of which now stand to lose out. Also, allocations to major human development schemes such as ICDS have been less than halved. Education suffers as well (that might be a blessing in disguise, considering who’s is in control of those funds). Looking at the quality of most state governments in the country, I am personally in favour of Mr. Sen’s recommendation of transferring only 38% of divisible pool of taxes, instead of 42%. But that doesn’t matter anymore.

Shashi Tharoor raised similar concerns in a recent piece, though he erroneously pointed out that the states were getting only Rs. 64000 crore extra in tax devolution. The real number is Rs. 1.41 lakh crore higher than last year’s. Also, what everyone seems to be forgetting is that the states are set to get a windfall from the coal auctions as well.

The huge devolution of taxes also means that the total expenditure in union budget of 2015-16 is, in a long time, lesser than the amount outlined by its predecessor. Clearly, with such mega funds at their disposal, states are expected to be prudent, equal partners in growth.

Douglas Adams, in his much acclaimed novel ‘The hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy’, stated that 42 is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything. Will it be the answer to India’s woes of federalism as well, or will it turn out quixotic?

Bibliography

All data is present within budget documents (http://indiabudget.nic.in/). There are two major problems: there's no annotation/lucidity, there are sometimes huge contradictions in the data.

Data on statutory transfers:

1. Tax devolution, refer to: http://indiabudget.nic.in/ub2015-16/bag/bag2.pdf

2.  Finance Commission grants, refer to: http://indiabudget.nic.in/ub2015-16/eb/stat10.pdf

In the above, statement 4.03 (Grants under Article 275(1) of the Constitution) gives the desired number. In reality, not all of these funds are totally untied, but I have nonetheless made this assumption, since getting the precise breakup seemed impossible.

Data on Plan transfers: The total funds under plan transfers are calculated by adding the two figures mentioned below

1.     Central assistance to state plans: refer to http://indiabudget.nic.in/ub2015-16/eb/stat16.pdf

In the above, the row titled “Total Central Assistance to State Plans (A to D)” gives the desired figure.

2.     Assistance for CSS: refer to http://indiabudget.nic.in/ub2015-16/eb/stat17.pdf

In the above, the row titled “Assistance to states under central plan” gives the desired figure.

 Data on non-plan grants (not recommended by FC): refer to http://indiabudget.nic.in/ub2015-16/eb/stat10.pdf

In the above, subtract the funds under statement 4.03 from Grand Total to get the desired number.

Data on direct transfers (discontinued since 2014-15): refer to http://indiabudget.nic.in/ub2015-16/eb/stat18.pdf

PS: All data concerns budgetary estimates.

North East beats North

Entirely harassed and bogged down by Mumbai, I decided to take a trip to the still forlorn North Eastern part of India. I travelled with a friend from college, between March 6 and 15. It was a backpacking trip, though not exactly a budget one. We primarily covered Tawang and Shillong, though the wildlife sanctuary of Nameri deserves a mention too.

In this post, besides enumerating some very interesting - and possibly unique - experiences, I have also included some travel tips. The post is primarily based on my experiences in Tawang, which I found to be the prettiest destination I’ve visited in India, so far. That’s not to say others were ugly. Shillong is at once an idyllic hamlet and a modern, clean city, which deserves another post. Hopefully I’ll get down to it another time.

The following is a summary of our itinerary:

Mumbai-Guwahati-Tezpur-Nameri-Tawang-Shillong-Guwahati-Mumbai

March 6

7:15 PM- Arrived at Guwahati airport

7:45 PM- Boarded a taxi after much haggling at the airport. Settled to pay 700 bucks for a 15km ride, owing to complete lack of alternatives.

9 PM- Left for Tezpur from Assam State Transport Council (ASTC) bus stop. Sweet deal, only 180 bucks.

March 7

6 AM- Grave uncertainty prevailed over how to get permit to enter Arunachal. Decided to spend the night in Nameri.

12 PM- After locking down the permit from Bhalukpong, came back to Nameri.

March 8

6:30 AM- Forward ho! to Tawang

12 PM – Expelled a barrage of poisonous gases from my body in a life-or-death attempt to tighten my anal sphincter muscles

5:30 PM – Reached Tawang, without leaving yellow stains in my undies.

March 9

8 AM- Left for a trip around the several beautiful, sometimes frozen, lakes of Tawang.

3 PM- Came back to our hotel.

March 10

7 AM- Left for Bum La, the site of India’s border with China.

3 PM- Back to hotel

March 11

6 AM- Left Tawang with a very heavy heart.

7 PM- Reached the morose town of Tezpur.

8 PM- Left for Guwahati

March 12

9 AM- Left Guwahati for Shillong

1 PM- Checked into a hotel in Shillong

4 PM- Tried chatting up local girls. Epic fail.

March 13

8 AM- Boarded bus to Cherrapunji

3 PM- Back to Shillong

March 14

8 AM- Boarded cab for Mawlynngon, known as Asia’s cleanest village

5 PM- Left Shillong for Guwahati

March 15

9 AM- Flew back to Mumbai *sob sob*

Travel tips

Having been there, done that, I’d like to leave certain tips for future travellers that would help them make a cheaper, more organised trip:

Ø     Make sure you have an Ola cab waiting at the Guwahati airport. As mentioned above, we were robbed of 700 bucks for 15km by the local taxi.

Ø    Getting from Guwahati to Tezpur DOES NOT require a cab. You get a minibus for 180 bucks a seat from ASTC bus stop.

Ø    Permit to enter Arunachal is easily available from Tezpur as well as Bhalukpong. Takes a maximum of 3-4 hours. Saturdays and Sundays can get tricky, though.

Ø    In case you wish to travel back and forth between Nameri and Bhalukpong (20 km from the former), use shared cabs. They look like cannon-less tanks, charge you just 20 bucks/seat, and are available at a place called ‘Hathi Gate’, bang on the highway. Strictly avoid private cabs, which would set you back by 800 bucks.

Ø    The 12 hour journey from Nameri to Tawang is long and arduous. The 10-seater Tata Sumo costs 750 bucks/seat, and there’s no other transport (the chopper service was discontinued a while back). If you’re an elitist baby, book two seats. That’s what we did on our way back. Ignore the part about the elitist baby. And yes, shit to your heart’s contentment before you get into the car.

Ø    Tawang’s damn cold, though you get cheap winter clothes once you’re there. It’s advisable to pack light.

Ø    I’d recommend avoiding local cuisine. Except Shillong, good food is hard to find. Within the city, Café Shillong and City Dhaba are a North Indian’s delight.

Ø    Always start your day early (you should be out by 7AM, latest). People of this region observe self-imposed curfew after dark. Tawang is especially bad. There are no street lights either. 

Journey to Tawang

Much more than the beautiful scenery, the bright spot during the tiresome journey to Tawang is the rather quirky spate of signboards that lace the 300 km hilly terrain. These signboards usually exhort education and safety, but that's only if you're too nerdy/bored/tired to overlook the obvious double-meanings.

This one takes the cake:

Yes ma'am, always

As a precursor to the uber cool bunch of people that await you at Tawang, most signboards are titled “BRO” (though not the one in the picture above).To my utter disappointment, I found out later that BRO was only an acronym for Border Roads Organisation, which happens to be arguably the biggest threat to India’s national security in the entire world. I say that because this infamously corrupt organisation, tasked with the construction and maintenance of roads in India’s critical frontier regions, has failed so miserably that it’ll be hard to estimate the extent of this catastrophe till China yet again decides to trample on our land. It would be a shame to even use the term ‘road’ for the dusty tracks that lead to Tawang. In shocking contrast, the roads on the Chinese side - facing similar ambient conditions - are broad, smooth and all-weather. As a minimum punishment, they should be debarred from calling themselves BRO.  The video below will give you a good idea of the ineptitude of this organisation. PS: My hands are always rock-steady.

The Monpas

While reams have been written about the natural beauty of North East in general, and Tawang in particular (and trust me when I say that every word is yet an understatement), it’s the people of Tawang, commonly known as the ‘Monpa’ tribe, who truly make the experience worthwhile. To the completely non-racist North Indian mind, the word ‘tribe’ is evocative of coal-black skin, ‘jhingalala’, incessant and pointless revelry, chill penury and uncooked dogs for dinner.

Entirely contrary to perception, Monpas are the coolest, best dressed and the most suave inhabitants of this otherwise style-starved nation. Blessed with the most malleable hair in all of humankind, this amazing bunch of people can draw it into the most bewildering of shapes to sport enviable hairstyles. All this becomes still more surprising given that Monpas are Buddhists, people better known for their detachment. Perhaps the photo below puts my thoughts in perspective.

Don't worry, these guys are absolute doves in behaviour

That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Tawang is a feminist’s paradise too! Here, even most liquor shops are ‘womaned’.  I suppose the men in my part of the country would consider it not just their birth right but even their divinely-assigned duty to rape a woman who dared run a liquor shop. Thankfully, Monpas happen to be far more evolved. Women are pretty, and they never break eye contact if they happen to be interested in you. Sadly, my knowledge in this regard is mostly vicarious.

Given that virtues come rare, most societies would well have exhausted their quota in achieving such inspiring social progressiveness and envious physical attractiveness. Not the Monpas. They still have up their sleeve unparalleled warmth and charm. Where else in India would you expect strangers to wave at you, that too when your looks are a giveaway of your distinct origins? Being invited for a cuppa by shopkeepers is not uncommon. Goods are dirt cheap, yet bargaining comes easy.

Anurag with Tashi (it's arguably the most common Monpa name), the shopkeeper who invited us for snacks. The good thing is I don't need to point out who's who.

Keep in mind that Monpas are closely in touch with their Buddhist identity. It seems their coolness quotient takes a hit when it comes to allowing immigrants into their holy land. One of our cab drivers was strongly critical of increasing number of Muslims making Tawang their home, being particularly unhappy with the likely prospect of mosques coming up in the region in the near future. We tried teaching him the virtues of tolerance and how North Easterners were facing exactly the same problem in the rest of India. Clearly, that fell on deaf ears.

Tawang’s lakes

Besides the sheer joy of living amongst its people, Tawang also provides you the rare opportunity to witness several frozen (at this time of the year) lakes, housed among tall mountains. The most famed of the lot is Madhuri Lake, popularly named after a rather well known actress, after she performed a dance sequence while shooting for the movie ‘Koyla’. This lake is surrounded by a snow-capped mountain on one side and an almost perfectly vertical, rocky mountain on the other. The only downside to these otherwise amazingly beautiful, frozen lakes is that the ice is too thin, and walking on it is simply not an option. I did make an attempt, and this is what happened:

Pieces of ice that cracked under the weight of my foot

Panoramic view of Madhuri Lake

The frozen Madhuri Lake with barren trees jutting out of its surface

Bum La

“La” means ‘pass’ in Tibetan. At 15200 feet, Bum La is the site of Indo-Sino border, and the sanctum sanctorum of Tawang’s beauty. Keep in mind that all visitors to Bum La need to secure a pass. Thankfully, the local travel agencies (Arunachal Holidays, in our case) do the job for 500 bucks, irrespective of the number of visitors. You’d be well advised to apply for the pass a day prior to your visit to Bum La.

Both of us being political animals and war enthusiasts, this was the biggest attraction of our entire sojourn. And it didn’t disappoint one bit. We could even freely step a few metres inside China without taking sniper shots to our heads. It’s a little demeaning that while our forces stand right at the zero point, not a Chinese soul is visible till as far as the eye can see. The only visible Chinese presence in this region is a far-off post, which is usually thinly populated. Below is probably the only clear picture of this post. The tiny lly a three-storey building.

Visible in green and white, it's actually a three-storey building. To its right is another watchtower.

Another view of the border

Panoramic view of Bum La

In the realm of cool poses, this one epitomises 'epic fail'. Damn the photographer :/

Let's rechristen the above to epic fail 1.0, for this one is epic fail 2.0. Again, the photographer failed to capture my service to the nation as I snipe at the Chinese post in the background

Thoughts on the army

The army men posted at Bum La are unbelievably friendly and warm. At least in Arunachal (and parts of Assam and Meghalaya, which we visited) there seems to be no hint whatsoever of abuse of local populace. In fact, one of our cab drivers even hurled abuses at the driver of a military truck when he wasn't granted his right of way by the truck driver. 

Army men welcome visitors with open arms and take pains to answer each and every naïve question thrown at them by bloody civilians, though it must be kept in mind that on our trip, we only interacted with non-officers (infantry men) of the army. I am not sure if the officers of the army would be similarly welcoming.

What makes this attitude even more heart-warming is the hardships these men have to go through each day of their lives. At far sub-zero temperatures, there is barely 6 hours of electricity made available to them, through diesel generating sets. While on our way back, we managed to gain entry into an igloo-like dormitory. One of the men told us that owing to lack of Oxygen at such altitudes, getting adequate sleep was a battle they had to wage every night. To make things more pitiable and shameful, the in-house loo was dysfunctional, which meant the men had to make do with a makeshift toilet situated not less than half a km away.

Outside view of dormitory

Inside view

On our way down from Bum La, two officers hitchhiked in our vehicle. One of them, Lance Naik DK Patnaik, proudly pointed out to us the discrete spaces Indian army had carved out for itself - often perched on top of mountains - to be used in event of war with China. Funnily enough, his joy turned to fear once I began discussing minute details of India’s artillery. Poor guy suspected me of being a Chinese agent and promptly abandoned any further revelations. It was only after seeing my PAN card that he seemed more relaxed, albeit not entirely.

Most surprisingly, all the army personnel we chatted with were totally accepting of the debacle of 1962. A documentary that we witnessed at the war memorial in Tawang went as far as to use the phrase “apathy of the political class and mishandling of the army” to describe what happened back then. This seems like a rare case of actually learning from past mistakes. The men boasted confidently about defending the nation from any future Chinese shenanigans. I certainly hope their undying patriotic fervour holds in the face of another war, since given the pathetic state of infrastructure in these regions, they’d need plenty of it to hold on to the territory they so proudly walk on.