Bloodline

Every nation has its Achilles heel. If in America, everything big and shiny and new is aways seen as an improvement, then in Britain royalty and any connection to it confers an automatic superiority over lesser mortals. I’m sure such like must exist everywhere. But in India, there is a fascination with dynasties. In the absence of royalty, we have lineages.

I grew up in India. I grew up in a household that had supported the Congress party. Up until the time I could think for myself, my allegiance lay in the same place as my family’s. Later, as the party fell apart, and a certain family name became inextricably linked with it, I started to wonder why, as Indians, we placed such importance on a bloodline. Did having the same genes make you necessarily better at the same thing as your forefathers?

A recent row that erupted in the Hindi film industry, also known as Bollywood, was over nepotism. That ubiquitous practice of promoting family regardless of talent or merit. Bollywood is rife with it. Millions of rupees are ploughed into projects with star sons or star daughters. So rarely do they bring any returns. And yet, riding on the coat tails of their ancestry, these talentless no hopers survive and thrive. If an outsider happens to question this practice, they are mocked at, shunned and publicly humiliated. Then life carries on, pretty much the same as before.

Be it the Gandhis in politics, or the Kapoors and the Bachchans (amongst many others) in films, there is an automatic presumption of accession. Yet, what if nature does not provide that which nurture wishes to promote?

Cricketers’ sons do not automatically become cricketers. Writers’ children don’t always write. Artists’ progeny may have no interest in art. So, why do parents or society see it fit to shoe horn people into professions they may have no natural ability or aptitude for?

There is no denying that amongst those that DO have the interest and the inclination, not forgetting the competence and faculty, ancestry can play an important role. Here, the foundation is laid and the environment is conducive to progress and excellence. Support, mentoring and an understanding of the profession can be invaluable. Nature and nurture can work in tandem.

Sadly, more often than not, its the chaff not the wheat that gets pushed to the forefront.

Perhaps it is time for us to abandon these idiosyncrasies, and celebrate talent, intelligence, courage and competence wherever it occurs. Perhaps it is time to relegate nepotism and favouritism to the rubbish heap where they belong.

Or perhaps, it is just time to get my head examined. Utopia, after all, exists only in the minds of the mentally challenged.

Ka-ching!

It’s been a long held belief to never ask a woman her age or a man his wage. Yet, only last week, BBC was forced to reveal the wages of their top earning presenters by the government. As expected, many interesting disparities emerged. However, what was even more startling was how uncomfortable this made most of us feel. Was it fair to these presenters to have the details of their earnings so publicly exposed? Was it fair to the rest of us? Who would this disclosure benefit?

Even as Jeremy Vine squirmed on air upon being questioned about his salary by an ex coal miner, and whether he thought he was deserving of it, the wage gap between the blue collar and the white collar was set out in no uncertain terms by this forced revelation by the Beeb. Did a presenter have more value than a coal miner? Did he risk his life and limb to put food on the table for his family?

Forget about presenters for a minute. Let’s look at footballers. A Premier League footballer makes more in a week than most of us do in a year. All for kicking a ball with flair. Why is it that movie stars, sports stars, models, pop stars and the like rake in the moolah while nurses, teachers, fire fighters, police officers struggle to make a decent wage? Do we, as a society, have the pecking order all wrong?

Of course it can be argued that ‘talent’ needs its own rewards. While anyone can do the more pedestrian jobs, there can only be one Cristiano Ronaldo, and he’s worth every dollar he gets. So also, there is only one Chris Evans and he presents the most popular slot on the most popular radio station, and therefore deserves every penny of his 2.2 million salary. It can also be argued that for most of these top earners, their shelf life isn’t that long, and therefore the adage of ‘make hay while the sun shines’ applies to them.

There is no denying that we all need a bit of sunshine in our lives. And by that I mean, the entertainment of our choice. For some of us it maybe watching sport, for others it maybe getting lost in music, or going to the movies or listening to the radio daily. We are happy to pay good money to be entertained. Yet, does this justify over inflated wages?

A study done some years ago revealed that Britons would rather talk about sex than income. Bedroom antics were more blithely revealed than earning figures, and that’s saying something. Talking about money is polite society’s last taboo. Why? Because talking about money is seen as tasteless. For those who are more privileged than others, on account of their backgrounds or professions, perhaps it sets off a few guilty twinges too. Who is to say?

BBC’s pay grades have not just revealed the glaring disparities between them and us, but also amongst them. Firstly the gender disparity. The highest earning female presenter happened to be number 8 on the list, and earned a fourth less than the highest earning male. The highest earning minorities presenters made even less. Could this be on account of being lesser talents? Or, is it because certain hierarchies are so entrenched in these institutions, that only a big reveal like this would shine a light on them?

What is crystal clear is that there is a massive imbalance in the way pay scales are structured. Whether these are presenters, sportsmen, entertainers or CEO’s of large corporations, it is grossly unfair that a section of society, however deserving, makes so much more than an equally deserving section that puts in the hard graft, and comes away with so little.

In Japan, the average CEO earns 16 times more than the average Japanese worker. In America, it is 319 times more. Fair?

So, whilst this pay reveal may have momentarily disrupted the cushy lives of these undoubtedly talented, but also undoubtedly lucky presenters, what it has unwittingly done is create a debate around the contentious issues of value, worth, disparity and discrimination. Let’s hope a redressal isn’t too far off.

 

 

 

 

Friend or Foe?

We have a strange relationship with time. As children, it seems to stretch out in front of us, endlessly. Days are long, oft monotonous, and the routine of school, homework, exams seems to be a never ending loop with no end in sight. We can’t wait to grow up, to govern time, to make it do our bidding.

In our youth, time is still on our side. With the careless optimism that fills our days, we match our step with time, outpacing it sometimes with our feckless, buoyant energy, ignoring it other times in our sleepy, enervated lassitude but always, always taking it for granted.

When jobs, marriages, partners and children jostle for space in our lives, time is in short supply. We race from one moment to the next, barely pausing for breath. Days, weeks, months, years fly past and we can scarcely keep count.

It is in our twilight years that time once again slows down. Our days are numbered but they are no longer filled with a hurried urgency. We don’t have the luxury of an entire lifetime. We don’t have the insouciance of youth. Our fruitful, fertile days are history, and all that lies ahead is the certainty of death.

What is time then? Is it a friend that helps us grow, change, develop and experience life? Or, is it a foe that eludes us when we need it most, and stabs us when we aren’t looking?

Time is both and neither.

Time is a silent companion that knows only to march forward relentlessly. It bows to no one. It turns back for nobody.

The sad truth is, that by the time we come to appreciate its worth, it is nearly always too late.