Saturday, February 25, 2012

Reserve Bank of India ( the Economist)


The Reserve Bank of India

Pulling every lever

India’s central bank is one of its best institutions. It is also complicit in a government-borrowing binge



















ONE of the perks of being governor of the Reserve Bank of India (RBI) is the use of a colonial bungalow on Carmichael Road, a posh street that weaves along a ridge in south Mumbai. On one side live some of India’s richest industrialists, modern-day pharaohs with flashy architectural tastes. On the other, a stone’s throw down a cliff, is a small slum—a monument to desperation and government failure. Both sets of neighbours are part of the 1.2 billion population that India’s central bank must look out for. In normal times this is a task that would furrow the brow; now that the country’s boom is faltering, it risks causing a blinding headache.
Judging by the numbers, the RBI is among the world’s best central banks. Its record on balancing growth and inflation is decent enough (see chart 1). Since 1995 wholesale prices have risen by an average of 6% a year, not too far from the RBI’s comfort zone of about 5%. Growth has averaged 7% a year. The RBI is also in charge of the safety of the financial system, to which end it yanks more levers than Willy Wonka in a chocolate factory. Its record here is excellent. Despite a current-account deficit that leaves India vulnerable to global jitters, the country sidestepped the 1997 Asian crisis (“nobody gave us a chance,” recalls a former governor) and the West’s banking crisis in 2008. The RBI also coped with big and potentially destabilising capital inflows in the euphoric years before Wall Street began to totter, and has avoided a domestic financial crisis despite fast growth in banks’ assets for many years.
Some fancy the RBI is a model for the kind of full-service central bank that is back in fashion worldwide—both the Federal Reserve and the Bank of England, among others, are now in charge of financial stability as well as interest rates. In truth, it would be hard to run a rich economy the way the RBI does India, with its financial system only partly liberalised. But the central bank has new clout abroad and at home its stock is high.
Under the present governor, Duvvuri Subbarao, a softly spoken figure, it has made a tough series of rate rises in the past two years to try to curb a stubborn spell of inflation (a battle that may not be over). And although the bank finds it hard to tempt star graduates to work in its tower overlooking Mumbai harbour—“if you look at its people and those of the Fed, there’s no comparison,” laments one bigwig—relative to most Indian state bodies the RBI has more brains, muscle and integrity. It is about the only institution in the country you never hear accused of graft.
That’s a big turnaround for a body that became a politicians’ plaything after India nationalised its banks in 1969. For two decades the state controlled lending and also fixed as many as 200 separate interest rates. It used the RBI as a piggy bank, forcing it to print money to finance its short-term needs. After 1991, when a balance-of-payments crisis led India to deregulate, the central bank rediscovered its spine. Agreements fully enacted in 1997 and 2006 stopped the state using it as an ATM, and as interest rates were liberalised and the bond market developed, the RBI began to look more like a normal central bank, setting short-term policy rates to try to balance inflation and growth.
This journey never reached the destination that was until recently in vogue in the West—that of a statutorily independent central bank narrowly focused on setting interest rates and targeting inflation. The RBI’s independence is not enshrined in law, although none of the four central-bank governors since 1992, interviewed by The Economist for this article, raised this as a big concern. The RBI consults the government but it has enough breathing-space to set rates as it pleases, they say.
And like a triumphant wearer of flares that have at last come back in fashion, the RBI’s wide remit—minting coins, managing the exchange rate, acting as banker for the government, and supervising banks and the bond market—is now seen as a template. These responsibilities helped it deal with the 2008 crisis: in short order it defended the currency, loaned money to cash-strapped banks, gave forbearance on troubled loans, soothed the bond market and eased banks’ capital requirements. Today a process of constant tweaking continues. In December, after a panicky fall in the rupee, the RBI introduced several obscure measures to bolster it, such as making it more attractive for Indians resident abroad to deposit money in the homeland.
Such fiddling has a cost. In 2007 an official report on making Mumbai a global financial centre—a work of great imagination—identified nit-picking and suspicion of foreign financiers (who are welcome to buy shares in India but not to play in debt markets) as a big problem. In 2009 an official review of finance chaired by Raghuram Rajan, a former chief economist of the IMF, worried that conservative regulation was inhibiting India’s potential. One local bank boss says the RBI “runs a repressed financial system which is intolerant towards innovation. If the US was at 90 out of 100 in terms of complexity and sophistication, we are at 10…I sometimes get the impression it [the RBI] is resting on its laurels, not realising that more financial innovation could help India’s development.”
Still, after years of financial convulsions abroad it is hard to say that the RBI has got the balance between safety and thrills wildly wrong. Indeed, the thing that endangers India today is not its financial markets but its government.
Heady talk of 9-10% as India’s new natural rate of growth is long gone. Many blame the government, which has not passed a significant reform for years while running a fiscal deficit of almost a tenth of GDP, including the states and off-balance-sheet items (see chart 2). The deficit—which began as an electoral giveaway in 2007, morphed into a stimulus package and is now just a product of indiscipline and populist politics—is widely seen as bad for India. Government borrowing crowds out the private sector, which has to live with higher interest rates than might otherwise be the case. Because the state is less likely than private business to spend the cash on investment, it does less to boost the economy’s potential.
At the RBI the boom of 2003-07, when growth was near double-digits and inflation comfortable, is now seen as a distinct era during which the deficit was falling, bullish firms were investing freely, a critical mass of reforms were in the bag and the state was productively solving day-to-day problems. Those conditions do not exist today. The central bank’s rule of thumb for the non-inflationary rate of growth has fallen to 8%, but that seems to bake in an assumption that the political class will recover its wits. If, hypothetically, that does not happen, insiders at the RBI accept that trend growth could be significantly lower. Bears outside the central bank talk of 6%.
The uncomfortable question for the RBI is whether it is partly responsible for the slowdown, albeit indirectly. If you have a central bank that always gets you home safely at the end of the night the temptation for politicians may be to go crazy. The RBI’s position is especially delicate on the fiscal deficit. The central bank oversees a financial system that is a conduit for funnelling savings into government bonds, 70% of which are owned either by the central bank or by the banking system, which remains dominated by state-owned lenders.
Although the ratio has come down, the RBI still forces banks to invest 24% of their core deposits in government bonds, far above what is needed to give banks a safety buffer of liquid assets. This creates captive demand for public borrowing (although during an economic soft patch such as today’s, cautious banks may voluntarily hold more than the minimum). The RBI also buys government bonds in the market. It argues this makes markets work smoothly, but most outsiders think the aim is to put a lid on government-bond yields. A spike in yields in November has been followed by a big, $14 billion RBI bond-purchase programme.
The RBI is thus in the weird position of publicly rebuking the government about its deficits while being the guarantor that they are financed. An extreme remedy would be for it to stop buying nearly so many bonds and to ease the rules on banks’ bond holdings. Without captive buyers interest rates would rise, perhaps by a percentage point or two. Some doubt whether the politicians would pay any attention—their appetites are insensitive to the government’s borrowing costs, it is argued. But the RBI would still probably like to try; in December 2010 it cut the liquidity requirement from 25% to 24%. The trouble is, anything more dramatic might be seen as meddling in politics and could prompt a bond-market rout that endangers stability.
Prop trading
In this respect, as with its strong supervisory record, the RBI may have lessons for the world. Other central banks, including the euro zone’s, are propping up sovereign-bond markets. Mr Rajan talks of “the conceit that central banks are independent. When they find that the governments are not going to budge [on cutting their deficits] few feel able to just walk away.” In a speech on February 1st, Mr Subbarao, the RBI’s governor, worried that “in the presence of large sovereign borrowing…central banks typically have little choice.”
One possibility is that slower growth, high borrowing and lack of reform might eventually prompt a fiscal or balance-of-payments scare that even the RBI, with its impressive array of tools, struggles to keep a lid on. That might frighten the political class enough to act. The more benign scenario is that politicians will anticipate this risk and act spontaneously to get India’s public finances back on track. But politics is one thing India’s central bank cannot control. As he settles down at his villa to watch the sun set over the metropolis of Mumbai, all the governor of the RBI can do is cross his fingers.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Three Great Ads


  Click on the pictures with speakers on.......

 

 
  
 

Thursday, February 23, 2012

How the hidebound world of Hindustani music is learning to befriend technology


Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

How the hidebound world of Hindustani music is learning to befriend technology
NOTEWORTHY
Even today, there are musician gurus who’d rather die than pass on material to ‘undeserving’ students. And bizarre as it may seem in the context, online gurukuls have mushroomed
Even today, there are musician gurus who’d rather die than pass on material to ‘undeserving’ students. And bizarre as it may seem in the context, online gurukuls have mushroomed
‘My name is Gauhar Jaan,’ screams the voice as the recording ends. The first diva of Hindustani music was also the first voice to be recorded in India, when FW Gaisberg came to Calcutta on his recording expedition in 1902. At the end of each three-minute recording, Gauhar Jaan identified herself in English. The reason was simple. The recordings travelled back to Germany where the records were made ready for sale; the only way the technicians in Hanover could differentiate between artistes was from the proclamations of identity at the end of the recordings. The imported records became popular, but the relationship between Hindustani musicians and the act of recording remained tenuous. There are stories of how vocalists (Ustad Alladiya Khan, most notably) refused to be recorded. Their reasons might now have assumed apocryphal proportions—fear of the voice being sucked in by the microphone or losing the sur in one’s voice—but it was not until much later that musicians at large found comfort in recording.
In 1959, India’s first record factory came up at Dum Dum in Calcutta. The cassette had arrived by the late sixties, the compact disc by the nineties and about a decade later, YouTube. Like any other discipline, Hindustani music too has been influenced by the determined march of technology. For a tradition that is notoriously resistant to change (or at least feels the need to fashion such a resistance), it has welcomed and even adapted to the shifts that the advancements have brought about.
The most apparent changes have been in dissemination. With the arrival of YouTube, many zealous guardians of private recordings have turned charitable. Rare 78 RPMs and EPs, unobtainable now for love or for money, are being discovered by a generation for the first time. Live recordings from as far back as the sixties are suddenly, unbelievably, available—a four-minute clip from a Puriya Ustad Vilayat Khan played in his twenties can inspire week-long delirium, and similar rarities abound. The AIR (All India Radio) authorities may not be too happy with the online proliferation of their unreleased recordings, but it probably serves them right for being stingy with their archival wealth. There were listeners who diligently recorded AIR broadcasts and there were enterprising disciples who sneaked in recorders to AIR studios while accompanying their gurus. The internet has somehow inspired these custodians to share their recordings in spite of the rigour involved in digitising them.
The internet has also encroached on the sacrosanct domain of teaching. Talim forms one of the two pillars of Hindustani music (the other being riyaz). In a tradition where a musician’s final appraisal includes an assessment of his disciples, talim is as vital to the student as it is to the guru. Hindustani music is not systematically documented, and reading notated bandishes or taans off a book or notebook does not catapult a student onto the stage. Even today, there are Hindustani musician gurus who would rather die than pass on material to undeserving (often a synonym for non-family) students. This has ensured that the value of the oral tradition has not diminished. 
In this context, the idea of an online gurukul—even the very proximity of the two words—would seem bizarre. But such teaching forums have mushroomed. The initial target disciples were NRIs who learnt in India during vacations and could continue with their lessons when they went back. Now, new students are inducted online. Their first exposure to Hindustani music is through Skype. The sessions could be personalised: sitar player Sanjoy Bandopadhyay, who is a professor of music at Rabindra Bharati University, runs an online gurukul that only conducts one-on-one classes through Skype. The school has a group of teachers, and depending on what a student wants to learn (sarod, sitar, vocal), s/he chooses and sets up personal appointments with the teacher. Pandit Ajoy Chakraborty does it differently.
His school in Kolkata, Shrutinandan, introduced online classes six months ago. He conducts a class at the school in Kolkata, and a webcast of the class is available to registered users for a month. A 12-month ‘subscription’ comes for $650/Rs 9,000; six-month for $350/Rs 5,000.
Whether or not these classes can produce performers is another question. Beginners and music aficionados will doubtless find it useful. It might even be a welcome bridge for the NRI who feels cut off from his music. But the system has not quite factored in a way of monitoring the students’ riyaz, so vital to making the grade to performer. Practitioners of music often agree that more than in class, it is when their gurus interrupt their riyaz to correct nuances that a lesson is really learnt. Then again this too could be old-world cynicism—a decade down the line, there might well be a professional musician of note who says he received most of his talim online.
Apart from direct learning, musicians are today in a position to pick up tips from the host of recordings available online. There is software too that makes the process easier. ‘Amazing Slow Downer’, for example, allows you to fiddle with the speed of a piece so that the nuances, blurry in real time, register. It also allows you to change the pitch of a recording. A sarod player who tunes his instrument in C and wants to pick up, say, a Shyam Kalyan by Ustad Shahid Parvez, who tunes his sitar in D, can do so without having to constantly make the tonic shift in his head. More than anything else, though, the app is a great toy, offering the cheap make-believe thrills of making Kishori Amonkar sound like a man or accelerating Ustad Vilayat Khan’s taans (it finally took a machine to trump the late maestro’s speed). Not surprising, then, that this app is a part of the iTunes artillery.
The more popular iTunes app for Hindustani musicians is the iTanpura. The electronic tanpura has long ceased to be a novelty. All Hindustani musicians, whether or not they simultaneously use the actual tanpura, use the electronic version both for riyaz and in concerts. Since its first wooden version, which could be used, for both size and sound, as a murder weapon, the electronic tanpura has come a long way. Radel was the pioneering company and Raagini followed; both now offer versions that are compact and produce excellent sound. But, as with so much else, Apple’s iTanpura has raised the bar. It can be downloaded onto an iPhone or an iPod Touch and the sound is sourced from actual Hemraj tanpuras. The overtones don’t get distorted; raga choices can be programmed, so that the tuning of the ‘strings’ automatically changes with a selection; the pitch can be manually adjusted for greater nuance. There is also an iTabla app, again an improvement on available electronic tablas that musicians use for riyaz.
Perhaps the most significant impact of technology in the world of Hindustani music has been the changes it has wrought in the quality of sound. Any amplification implies a shift, however minute, from the original sound of a voice or an instrument, but with better microphones and more advanced sound engineering, musicians can control the quality of amplified sounds. Many artistes now carry their own mikes; many know exactly what permutation of bass-mid-treble will give them the desired projection. For musicians from other traditions, these might seem obvious; sadly, sound engineering has never quite received the importance it should have in the world of Hindustani music. Most concerts continue to be held in spaces with terrible acoustics. The interaction between an artiste and a sound engineer (a mikeman, mostly) is usually restricted to ‘treble thoda kam karo’. In a recent festival at the Sangeet Research Academy, Kolkata, the fact that Aruna Sairam reached the venue early to do a sound-check became a talking point.
Along with these enhancements in the transmisson and reproduction of sound, there are manifest changes in the very nature of traditional sounds. These experiments are still nascent, but the trend is bound to spread. Niladri Kumar regularly performs on the electric sitar (what he calls the ‘zitar’); Prattyush Banerjee has come up with an electric sarod, called the Jyotirdhwani. Soumik Datta has introduced a new bridge to his sarod. The bridge acts as a pickup, so Datta’s is the first electro-acoustic sarod. These instruments are used only in collaborative music, not in pure classical recitals. But with collaborative music gaining currency, and with Indian classical instruments having become familiar strains in a global soundscape, there might come a time when these instruments acquire dual identities. A listener who only hears the sitar in an electronic context will associate that sound with the instrument; not all listeners across the globe, or even in India for that matter, would know that the instrument has an ‘original’ version.
The need to create electronic versions of traditional instruments arose from an obvious problem: volume. When placed next to an electric guitar, an acoustic sitar has little chance of being heard, more so if there is an entire band playing. Ustad Ali Akbar Khan and Pandit Ravi Shankar, among many others of their time, also collaborated with international musicians, but mostly in an acoustic context. Current trends in global music have forced Hindustani instrumentalists to innovate with their instruments, and available technology and enterprising craftsmen have come to their aid. More than anything else, they have been encouraged by the knowledge that it is possible to jerk an instrument out of its traditional context and place it in a fuzzy, experimental, global soundscape. A Raga Jog is no longer confined to an hour-long presentation on the classical stage. Strains of the raga can appear as a snippet in a jazz piece, its play on the two gandharscan provide sudden lyrical relief in heavy metal. At the end of the day, if technology has inspired the exploration of a new aesthetic, that would have to be its most significant effect on Hindustani music.

Aging and Driving ....


Driving is a complex, fast-paced activity. A typical driver makes 25 decisions per kilometer. Aging affects all 3 steps in the driving process: sensing, deciding and acting.

1. Sensing: Good eyesight is essential fr safe driving. You receive 85-90% of the information needed to drive through your eyes. One of the most common changes you will notice is with your vision. Here are some facts about aging and the eyes:

  • You need more light to see
    • At age 45 you require 4 times as much light as when you were 19
    • At age 60 you require 10 times as much
  • When looking from the speedometer to the road ahead:
    • It takes a younger driver about 2 seconds to focus
    • A driver over 40 takes 3 seconds or more
  • Your eyes become more sensitive to glare:
    • At age 55 it takes 8 times longer to recover from glare than at age 16
  • Your ability to see the difference between colours decreases
    • It could take you twice as long to see brake lights flash on as when you were younger
  • Your peripheral vision or ability to see what’s happening to the sides, decreases
    • It might take you longer to see the cyclist coming up beside your car
  • As you age the chance of having one of these visual conditions increases:
    • Cataracts
    • Macular degeneration
    • Glaucoma
  • Your ability to focus slows down
  • Your depth perception or judging the distance between you and an object, decreases
  • You might have difficulty judging when it is safe to make a left turn
  • But there are some simple steps you can take to help minimize the effect aging eyes can have on driving:
    • Get regular eye exams
    • Limit your driving to daytime hours
    • Keep healthy and fit
    • Keep headlights, mirrors, and windshields clean
Hearing
Hearing loss can affect your ability to hear sounds such as sirens and horns. If hearing loss is found early you can be helped through treatment, such as hearing aids and surgery.

2. Deciding: Once your eyes and ears take in information, it’s up to your brain to process it and decide what to do. Age increases the time it takes the brain to process information and makes it harder to ignore distractions. For many people, experience and good driving habits can compensate for these changes.
Here are a few things you can do:

  • Keep a safe distance behind the car in front of you
  • Choose a route that avoids difficult turns
  • Focus on driving: avoid distractions such as cell phones
  • Plan your route ahead of time

3. Acting: As you age it takes longer to perform physical activities due to:

  • Weaker muscles
  • Reduced flexibility
  • Conditions such as arthritis
  • Effects of medication
 TAKE CARE AND HAVE A SAFE DRIVING...........