Intelligent Crook?

Money Heist (La Casa De Papel, House of Paper)
Spanish miniseries, Netflix Season 1-3; 2017- present

It is no secret that countries which are secular in their politics perform better in economics. Look around. Nations who appear to showcase Roman Catholic in their day to day running of their lives, e.g. countries in the Iberian peninsula, in Latin America and the Philippines, perform worse off than their Protestant counterparts. We need not talk about Muslim nations or countries struggling to go all conservative to stay relevant. 

It seems that nations that look at pleasing the Money God seem more progressive and advanced technologically and socioeconomically. By this, I mean these countries look at acquiring wealth at a level more important than to satisfy the imagined Man in the heaven or the intangible Forces of Nature. They feel money can solve their problems in this life and do not need to follow preset rules on Earth to receive its unassured retribution in another realm or on another birth.

Retractors will insist that they are missing the woods from the trees. There are more things to life than acquiring wealth that maintaining good virtue is the aim of life. We are paying for the Original Sin, and that Salvation is attained through selfless acts and His Grace.  Are these mere rants of a loser who insists the grapes that he failed to acquire must have been sour anyway?

Whatever it is, money seems the physical proof that life actually improves on Earth. Or do they? Tales of lottery winners with windfall and ending up worse off then they were initially is well known to us. 

According to Netflix, 'Money Heist' is its most-watched non-English miniseries. Even though the dubbing can be fixed in some places and there can be room for improvement in the acting department, it nevertheless, manages to keep its viewers at the edge of their seats. As the title suggests, the story revolves around a carefully planned heist at the Royal Mint. The modus operandum is to hold the staff of the mint and a group of student-visitors as hostages as the crooks use the machinery to print brand-new crisp, authentic Euros. Maybe, as the episodes drag on, due to prolonged contact with the robbers, the audience, just like their hostages, builds a sympathetic bond as like in Stockholm Syndrome.

Along the way, we are introduced to Professor, the mysterious leader of the pack and the motley crew of 8 robbers who form the rest of the gang. All of them have a sob story to explain their miserable life and how they landed there. The plan is to print €2.4 billion and to abscond through a self-built tunnel. Things become complicated as the Professor, who is stationed outside to guide through the operation and negotiate with the police, falls hopelessly in love with the investigating police chief. And it is mutual.

Initially, the story is believable, but the series progresses, it is evident that much masala is infused into it. Too many outlandish coincidences and instances of 'near misses' make one lose interest. It is only so many times that the preparator's identity can be repeatedly close to being uncovered. There were, however, many interesting discussion about human behaviour and philosophy amongst the baddies. But, do you expect villains to be so highly refined and intellectually superior? Why not? Intelligence can be used both ways - for betterment or destruction of mankind!

With the runaway success of the first two seasons, spoiler alert, and their successful heist, the producers decided to have more of their finely crafted planning. Living incognito in separate lives, one of the crook's identity is discovered and is apprehended. In the 3rd and the yet to be released 4th season, they attempt to rob the Bank of Spain of its gold. The former inspector and a former hostage are now in their team. The story only gets more bizarre. A burglar who was riddled with bullets in the 2nd season is walking around talking philosophy, and nobody is curious. There is only so much DIY medical emergencies that one can handle. Removing glass shrapnels from the eyes, treating brain injury and full-blown heart attack is not something one can do at the drop of the hat. It is becoming more and more another offering of ‘Fast and Furious’. 

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Poverty, a qualification?

American Factory (Documentary, 2019)
Netflix

The Industrial Revolution transformed countries from the Western World by leaps and bounds. That, together with colonisation, it improved their living conditions radically. In the USA, industries flourished. Immigrants trickled in from the world over to work to their last drop of sweat. Being employed was a cool thing to be. The first and second generations were hardworking.

All the way things happened. The subsequent generations became complacent. They did not have to work to survive. Work became optional. After all, the country took care of everybody. 

All these while, the countries in the East missed the Industrial Revolution bus. Not only were they thrown under the bus, they also had to be contended staying subservient supplying the raw material to fuel the big wheels of the machinery of their masters.

Times change. The slaves, looking up at their masters all these while, have caught up. They have learnt the trade and have overtaken their teachers. Poverty, as the New Economic Order defines it, is a good enough motivator to succeed. The sons of slaves have risen to bite the sons of slave owners. The tiger roars again.

This interesting documentary, produced by the Obamas' company, Higher Ground Productions, recalls the time in the late 2000s when many automobile industry workers were out of jobs. The American automobile was in the doldrums. In Daytona, Ohio, a vast glass factory supplying automobile part had been closed for almost two years. A Chinese showed interest in reopening the plant.

Workers initially showed relief in being able to be employed again. The Chinese bosses had a strict set of rules for the workers to follow. The American workers were not happy. Amongst the workers were also Chinese workers from the parent company, who were working like robots. They worked non-stop and went on working even through lunch break. The Chinese went beyond the call of duty, without complaining, endangering themselves and doing the work that generally involved two American workers.

The Chinese boss was unhappy. The American workers wanted to start a workers' union, which was denied. The management tried to expose the top-level American workers to the Chinese workers via a working visit to their parent plant in Mainland China.

The Americans realised that they cannot work like the Chinese. The cry for a union became louder. The workers were penalised for being slow or taking long, sick leaves. The workers talk about human rights. Pink slips started flying. Sales were down. Quality of the end-product was not up to the mark. 

Finally, it came down to automation. Rather than engaging humans with innumerable complaints, the Chinese owners decided to go full-on into automation. Only then did the business started seeing profit trickling.

What started as a noble intention of giving employment opportunities to the jobless American workers, turned out to fall flat. The workers, because of their demands and non-compromise, lost their job to automation. On the other hand, the management needed to see returns on their investment. 

Poverty may not be a qualification, but it is undoubtedly a driving force to reach higher grounds. A growling stomach is good enough a reason to dance for your next meal. The hunger fizzles out when the comforts of life are showered liberally, one starts demanding.  

At the end of the show, viewers are reminded that the East has awoken from their slumber. They are undergoing a renaissance of sorts, and they are out to rule the world, once again. 

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Everywhere you lay your hat...

The Indian Detective (Canadian Miniseries, in Hindi and English; 2017)
Netflix (Season 1, E1-E4)

The 1950s were important in world politics. The Second World War was over, but the world, never learning from its past mistakes, was building another. The world was divided into two, those subscribing to capitalism or communism. The Cold War was brewing. The newly independent nations, the Third World, was up for grabs. In that environment, in 1955, a few countries got together in Bandung, to assert that they were not aligned to either side of the fence. The Americans, however, viewed it as the ranting of the newly-independent third world states with a slight socialistic stance as they were not invited but China was.

One of the prescient thing that the then Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai had said was that the Chinese residing in different countries should show their allegiance, not to China, but to the countries they are residing. 

That too must be applicable to the Indian diaspora which is spread the world over. Driven to the four corners of the mainly for economic reasons and the colonial masters' labour needs, they had 5easily embraced into the cultures of the newfound motherlands. In some cases, they had even cut their umbilical cord off the country of their forefathers. They may be Indian on the outside or by name. The connection to Mother India ends there.

Generation elapsed. Indianness became diluted. The head-boobing went the same way as the subservient nature of their ancestors. For them, their grandfather's guest country became their motherland. They shared fond memories, their childhood, experienced pain and joy and shed a tear or two when their nation was under attack. So to accuse them of showing more loyalty to India rather than their country of birth is mischief or not inciteful.

This Canadian production is a mediocre one. The story is quite predictable and paints India in the same brush as most Hollywood movies. We are all bored with the stereotyping of a corrupt police force, abuse of power by officials, of arranged marriages and a dirty and polluted India.

The drawing force to this flick must have been Russell Peters and  Anupam Kher. Even they could not save the film. The acting is unnatural and forced. The dialogue is cheesy and the storyline implausible. William Shatner guests as a baddie but he remains a pale shadow of Captain Kirk. He does not explore any facial expressions beyond the emotionless and bland facies that he puts up in most scenes. The producers put up a cliffhanger at the end of Episode 4 but, obviously, the miniseries did not garner such a following to demand another season. 

Just for the record, the story is about a bumbling constable who is suspended for a month for bungling up with a drug bust (or was he?). He is forced to visit his 'ailing' father (Anupam Kher) in Mumbai. Here he gets entangled with an Indian mob and a social worker cum lawyer. See how this Mumbai gang is intertwined with his Canadian case and how the detective (Russell Peters) comes out smelling of roses. 

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No country for intelligence

Salam - The First ****** Nobel Laureate

(2019 Netflix)

His tombstone was defaced. The epitaph which read 'The First Muslim Nobel Laureate' had, with the Government decree, the word 'Muslim' be removed from the headstone. Professor Abdus Salam, the first Pakistani and Muslim scientist to win the prestigious award, was of the Ahmadi faith. The country felt that he was not Muslim enough to claim to be one. Even Pakistani textbooks do not mention him as a national hero. The younger generation has not heard of him.

His story is of particular importance to a country like ours as we seem to be pursuing the same rabbit hole as their Big Brother Pakistan took when they clawed themselves off Hindustan back in 1947. Instead of speeding forward from the race-line, they took a backward trajectory that may send them back to the Stone Age. Rather than investing in human capital and knowledge-based activities, they have only successfully managed to shoo off intellectual away from Pakistan. Left behind are the blind followers, yeoman, sluggards and conmen. Academics like Pervez Hoodbhoy, the MIT trained nuclear physicist, and Tarek Fateh, the Canadian-Pakistani media-man, can only do so much to knock some semblance of sense into the system. In return, they are labelled traitors for putting down their nation.

The recent turn of events in Malaysia, with their association with the leaders of Turkey and Pakistan, put us in the same basket as them. The joke is on us, but we are too blind to see. This country has become no place for the intelligent and thinking individual. 

One can see the parallelism between Abdus Salam's early life to that of the great modern Indian Mathematician Ramanujan. An apparent child prodigy right from the start, he grew up in humble beginnings in Jhang, a small village in Punjab (which became part of Pakistan). From the surroundings of a ricketty town, at a tender age, he understood everything about electricity even when his village had never received any electricity.

Excelling in every public examination and even writing a Mathematic paper for publication titled ' A problem of Ramanujan' earned him a place in Cambridge around 1946-47. He was financed by a peasants' cooperative scholarship. 

Even though he escaped the turmoil of Partition, he had a tough time in the United Kingdom. Food was a major problem. Surviving primarily on macaroni cheese, he completed his Ph D and returned to Pakistan in 1951 as a professor in Mathematics in Government College in Lahore. He was obviously overqualified and intellectually isolated there. The Ahmadiyya sect was always a thorn in the flesh for the Sunni-majority Pakistan. In 1953 a riot broke out. Their esteemed leader is said to have claimed to be a prophet, the fabled Mahdi and even the Christian Messiah. 

Abdus Salam left Pakistan permanently for a post of Professor in Imperial College, London.

His academic career skyrocketed from then on. At one instance, he almost won a Nobel prize. If only a senior colleague had not shot down his research, he would have published it. His idea was picked by a Chinese physicists duo who received the coveted award afterwards. 

When often asked how we got all the knowledge that he possessed, he would often point up as if he received his revelations from above. This ring a bell to Ramanujan's assertion that he received his formulas from Goddess Namagiri.

Abdus Salam continued involving himself later in developing nuclear energy for peaceful purposes for Pakistan as requested by Presiden Zulkifar Ali Bhutto. This did not last long. With the change of leadership as the conservatives held the helm, President Zia ul Haq with the blessings of the religious councils, declared Ahmadis as heretics in 1974.
Another bloodbath reminiscent of 1947 Partition took place. Believers from the Ahmadiyya sect were decapitated, maimed or slaughtered. Scenes of blood-stained train coaches with mutilated passengers gave Pakistanis a deja vu.

In 1979, Professor finally received the elusive Nobel Prize. He went on to develop scientific research in developing countries. He was keen to offer himself as a candidate for the post of the Director-General of UNESCO, but Pakistan refused to back his application.

He finally succumbed to motor neuron disease and was eventually buried in Pakistan.

Garbed in traditional attire during Nobel Prize awards, he quoted a verse from the Quran that suggests that religion and science should not diverge but instead complement each other. He did not see religion as a deterrent to acquiring knowledge but paradoxically a nidus to do so. ©Getty Image.

A very touching documentary which highlights the dangers when stupid people hold too much power. When race and religion supersede rational thinking, the collapse of civil society and social structure is imminent. Like body odour, stupidity is only realised by the individuals around them, not the bearer of the stench or the idiots.


The Persecution of Pakistan's Ahmadiyya Sect

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p025n89c

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It's cold out there!

Joker (2019)

It was a time when I was a teenager. I had been selected to play the role of Jesus Christ in a pantomime. It was an Easter play depicting the Resurrection. Obviously, the most alluring girl in the Sunday class, Catherine, was cast as Mary Magdelene. Everything went on all, and the show was enjoyed by everyone.

I realised the hard way that people are generally not nice, and children are imps. Life is not fair. There is no justice on Earth, and we are kidding ourselves that there is a higher judge out there who would mete out appropriate justice when the time is ripe. As if pacifying a wailing child, we convince ourselves, rather foolishly that payback may happen in the afterlife or next birth.

After the show, the children started teasing me as 'Black Jesus'. Of course, I did not know then that Jesus may have had Negroid features, but I felt particularly offended with the word 'black'. The teasing went on, joined by the other. One particular chap, Jeremy, I think his name was, was particularly aggressive in provoking a reaction. I chased him. When I could not catch with him, I removed my shoe and threw at him. By a twist of fate, it hit him painfully on his back to invoke a counter-reaction. Just about then, the Sunday School Master walked in, only to witness Jeremy getting the shoe treatment.

So began the talk session and after listening out both sides of the story (to be fair), the Master told both Jeremy and me to apologise to each other with a handshake.

I felt that I had been wronged. I had been told to say something that was not my fault at all. There I was minding my own business doing what a good student should do, and there comes somebody to provoke anger, and when I retaliate, I have to apologise. It appeared unfair, but that seems to be the goings of the world. When someone jumps a red light at an intersection to hit you when you are free to go, the fault of the offender is only 80%. The onus also falls on you to ensure that the road is free of traffic before you move. So say, my lawyer friends.

I have many received many WhatsApp messages depicting

him as a Joker. His mannerisms, accent and subject matter 
may not make sense to many but beneath all that is wisdom
that is screaming to be deciphered. Nithyananda of 'the me 
in you' fame. ©Nithyananda.org.

Nature is also not kind. Try spending a night outside in the cold. If you do not die of hypothermia, probably a wild beast will kill you. Play football in the torrential rain, if you do not slip and fall, maybe you would be struck by lightning. Living carelessly in the wild may expose you to zoonotic diseases, parasites in the soil, in arthropods and even the plants and water which are said to be the elixirs of life. They are all just out to get you. What does not kill you only makes you stronger. Life is just not fair. Life is not a bed of roses. It is not a reward.

I started having a soft spot for the cartoon character 'The Joker', especially so after watching Heath Ledger in 'Dark Knight' and his sad ending. This movie just cemented my liking. It highlights the plight of the little men in this world.

We all want to do our things in this world; indulge in niceties, do our things with our loved ones and hopefully, pave a unique path for them to tread. We think that by obeying the rules and setting our life path along the lines set by those who have been, we will be okay. We are deluded into thinking hard work and obedience equal success and happiness. Sadly, this is far from the truth.

There is a constant plot to swindle the masses by those in power to cow them into submission. The poor are their target whenever their economic pursuit hits a brick wall. Again the oppressed gets the blame and the brunt of sufferings when hardship hits a community.

'Joker' shows such a scenario. The divide between the haves and have nots have spread so extensive that the crushed are fighting back. Jokers are the scorns of the system who periodically rise to kick the society in the behind to jolt it to reality. 

They are essentially revolutionaries who make their political statements through noticeable means. Jokers cringe in the inside to make others laugh. At one time, people thought Jesus of Nazareth was a joker - asking his followers to turn the other cheek when struck! 

A good show 4.8/5.

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Time flies when you are having fun!

S2B: Seoul to Busan

It is not a race. Ep #1
Meet the P-stars. Ep #2
Fighting the demons! Ep #3

Bare necessities that we need! Ep #4

7 Samurais set to go! ©Bob

The day is here! Ep #5

The time is now! Ep #6

Time is a river of passing events. Ep #7

Episode 8: Day 5 S2B (10.10.19)

Resolved to end the tour today, we made an early start, at the first sign of daylight. At least, that is what we thought. By the time we saddled up and tightened up a few loose ends, it was 0630 by the time we left our bike motel. 

It was a chilly morning, slightly windy and foggy at 7C. Everything was going on fine for the first half of the day. 

Korea decided to save the best for the last. She took us through multiple hills, some as steep as 13%. We managed most of the hills except for a few which proved too long too strenuous.

The world of Maya. The cloud-like fluffy structure in the bottom half of the picture is the early morning condensation of water above the river surface. ©HS

The struggle between Nature and Man started to prove a yo-yo. The hills at Changnyeong-gun was a sight to behold. The view of the light of the rising sun against a backdrop of mist-covered mountains and river gave the illusion as we were in high heavens. 

Born to be free in the meadows but creepy crawlies. ©FG.

The Duel between Man and Nature: Sometimes Nature wins! ©MM

After giving a bit, she tested us. One, but all us, took a wrong turn. With 3 punctures to repair, because of the wrong turn that took us through a gravel-filled path that took us through farms, we were delayed by two hours flat. 

Even our designated high priest thought he had lost his mojo when we found everything going the wrong way. With the patchy GPS signals in Korean language, by a twist of fate we somehow finally managed to get to the next certification centre. 

A breath of fresh air. Second last certification centre in the pipeline. ©FG

The body was aching and the muscles were fatigued but one resolve in each of minds to complete the course pulled us through. We pedalled through the gruelling heat and the mid-afternoon sun at about 20C.

Finally, at about 5.30pm, the Gods took pitied us and finally landed us at Nakdong River Culture Pavilion, the final destination. 

I am still standing, on the ground. ©Bob.

Three months of planning, weeks of training and many man-hours in research, we finally completed our mission. Shaken but not stirred, we were already planning our next trip, perhaps next year. 

We did it! ©RS

End of Day 5.
Completed about 140km. (Total ~ 675.15km) due to detours and off-course tracks, to and from accommodation and meals.

I cycled 675km and all I got is a gold-plated medal plus a piece of paper bearing my name and I had to pay for it! But it comes with bragging rights and something to talk about for a long long time.©FG.

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Time is a river of passing events.

S2B: Seoul to Busan

It is not a race. Ep #1

Meet the P-stars. Ep #2
Fighting the demons! Ep #3

Bare necessities that we need! Ep #4

The day is here! Ep #5

The time is now! Ep #6

Time and tide. Ep #7

Episode 8: Day 4 S2B (9.10.2019)

After knocking ourselves out in slumberland at Zone Hotel in Gumi, North Gyeongsang, in what we call a ‘love motel’, we hit the saddle again. The love motel was the closest that came by when we hit Gumi all weary yesterday evening. Yet a sumptuous simple Korean dinner came in front of us when we entered a restaurant, told the chef to surprise us in rudimentary caveman sign language and grunts. 

0830, back to the grinding mill. 

Weather was generally beautiful today with the sun was out by 7am. The temperature was cool at 7ºC and slightly windy. We were fine, and we had a feeling that something good was on our way. Hence, we set to do 120km for the day. 

The sun peacocking around with nature's palette of colours. ©FG

Just to burst that feel-good bubble, one hour into the journey, one of our cyclists busted his back tyre. That misadventure set us back by an hour, but after sorting out the tubes, we were back on the roads again. The landscape was forgiving. The terrain was mostly flat with occasional sharps climbs, some as steep as 13%.

We came across a few mammoth structures along the way. 

Lunch was ramen mee with the usual Korean accompaniments, kimchi, bean sprouts, spiced kangkung, pickled radish etcetera in a shop off Dalseon-bo. 

When in Korea, eat what Koreans eat.
 - kimchi noodle! ©FG

All through our expedition, with the luxury of time and a plethora of visual stimulations, we had the pleasure in indulging in the art of people watching. Mind you, this did not include stalking or voyeurism. It just involved astute observations. On the outset, it was evident that the typical Korean’s choice of colours would make a fashion designer cringe. On the roads, we rarely saw cars with colours other than the sobering white, grey, black or anything appearing near-black. The vehicles were mostly Korean made with an occasional glimpse of Audi and Mercedes. 

In the towns, the people are mostly dressed up (as compared to most metropolitan cities where denizens are dressed down or are seen in different stages of being undressed). Maybe because it was autumn, the colours of choice were white, black and shades of thereof. And they were plain - no screaming flowers motifs or ‘in your face’ loud T-shirts with profanity. The most provocative ‘T’ that came to my attention was one which read ‘anti-social social club’. Go figure. 

Another ambitious artwork by K-water at a dam in Cheongnyeong-gun. ©FG

Generally, they were friendly, and despite the handicap of language, they go beyond the call of duty to help the visitors of their country to their level best. Very interesting. They manufacture things that make the West squirm and have developed so rapidly economically mimicking and even surpassing the West, but they give a damn about the lingua Franca of the modern world, English. Paradoxically they yearn to be in sync with the latest trends in dressing. But then, the K-pop groups are their role model, and the K-pops cater to the world. Deep inside, they must be telling the rest of the world, “you need us more than we need you! Live with it.” 

We had a bizarre thought that everyone in Korea had the same plastic surgeon. Almost everybody had the same eyelid appearance and the same perfectly contoured nose with the similarly coloured lips. If you want to see the original Korean facies, run down to Jagilchi Fish Market to see the local fishmongers. 

Apparently, the demand for plastic surgery is so high and well developed that many a time we saw people in restaurants eating their meals with plaster on the face, presumably the first post-surgical meal. Just guessing! 

When the sun goes down in Hapcheon-gun. ©FG.

A few stops at the certification centres, we reached a small town named Hapcheon-gun. It is a town where its folks were more than eager to usher in into the numerous bike motels. It appears like they survive on tourists. 

Plenty a room at a Bike Motel in Hapcheon-gun. No nice surprise. ©FG

Again another surprise from a non-English speaking restauranteur. This time it was Busan Fried Chicken and spicy fried chicken.

So it was decreed, after much deliberation, that tomorrow would be our last day and tomorrow’s journey would be the last league. Another ambitious plan of 120km was in the pipeline. Let us see what happens.

End of Day 4.

Completed about 120km. (Total ~ 533km)

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