Arakshit

I’ve spent the last two days at a government office, gathering data on reservation status of mukhiyas in Bihar. I will likely spend the next eight days there as well. This is because the data I need is in hard copy, and so I need to enter it all into Excel spreadsheets. It is a bit challenging since the files are disorganized and the handwriting on them ranges from beautiful Devanagari to illegible scrawl, as if the scribes were not all that happy about reversing decades of political discrimination against women. 

What is shocking is that this data does not exist in soft copy, even though panchayat elections are fast approaching (in May 2011) and the same seats are going to be reserved a second time. When Clement and I first approached public officials about this, their reaction was, “Oh yeah, maybe it would be a good idea to have this data” (!?!). So we struck a deal: we would enter the data for them free of charge, and in return we could keep a copy for ourselves. An added bonus is that I am learning some Hindi vocab that will become useful the next time I try to pick up a girl at a bar: prakhand (an administrative unit sometimes translated as “block”); pichhada varg (“backward class”); and of course, arakshit (“reserved”). kul (“total”), no?

The government office is pretty chill. I can’t come before 11am because that’s when the guy who keeps the files arrives, and I have to leave by 6pm. People come in and out of the room that I’m doing data entry in, with about three or four guys sitting there permanently. I haven’t caught them working yet. They play Freecell, read the newspaper, talk to each other, and try as best they can to distract me. One guy speaks a little English, so he attempts to translate what the others are saying to him. He informed me today that, “You, me, we are friends. We are all children of the God. Indian and American are the same.” He also complemented me by saying that I was a very hard worker. I think that he and the others think of themselves as my supervisors. Another RA told me that I have a golden opportunity to run my own political experiment by changing the reservation status of mukhiya seats at will. Wouldn’t it be a shock to the government if, during the run up to the panchayat elections in May, it was found that all mukhiya seats had to be filled by cute little animals dressed up as politicians? (Quick honey, get out Pinkie’s tuxedo, it’s time to go on the campaign trail!)

I am currently on the hunt for a good project assistant, possibly a couple of PAs. While in theory VA and I would be able to get around town and get what we need without assistance, in actuality we are as helpless as one-legged puppy dogs (and as cute!). The obstacles that prevent us from getting around are mostly language-related (I can tell someone that this apple is red in Hindi, but that doesn’t help in bargaining with rickshaw drivers), though partly transportation-related, since we haven’t worked up the nerve to get a scooter yet (and probably won’t until we can read street signs). Besides helping us get around, we also need PAs to take on some project management responsibilities, which will be especially critical when we start surveying. And so: if you speak Hindi and English fluently and would like to hang in Patna for a year, send me your CV!