Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Sacred Elephants in Tamil Nadu

Here’s an article from “The Daily Mail” about sacred elephants in Tamil Nadu. Tamil Nadu is a state in the South East:

That's hard to swallow! Sacred elephants put on a diet after offerings at Indian temple push them to 80 STONE overweight (not that you'd notice)

PUBLISHED: 20:05 GMT, 17 September 2012 | UPDATED: 07:25 GMT, 18 September 2012

Obese elephants in the Tamil Nadu region of India are now having to watch watch they eat and do more exercise, as they have become dangerously overweight.

Almost all of the temple elephants in the region, which is the far south of the country, are bigger than is deemed healthy, due to a combination of little or no exercise and over-feeding.

The elephants are chained to the temple's gates for most of the day, making any physical activity difficult.


Tourists feeding elephants treats in temples is part of the reason why they have become overweight










An elephant blessing a woman in the Brihadishwara Temple in the Tamil Nadu region of India, where the obesity problem amongst the animals has hit dangerous levels









Pilgrims visit temples in India to be blessed by the elephants in the hope it will bring them good luck













The problem is compounded further as pilgrims to the temples want to feed the giant animals in the belief it will bring them good fortune if they do.

Such is the importance pilgrims place on elephants in India they are often fed treats such as sweets and rice rather than the more varied diet including bamboo, grass and fruits they would normally eat in their natural habitat.

Temple officials are now looking to change the diets of their elephants on the advice of veterinary surgeons.

'The female temple elephant - 15 year-old Parvathi - is overweight by 500kg (80 stone) and efforts are on to reduce it,' said Pon Jayaraman, executive officer of the Madurai Meenakshi Amman temple told the BBC.

Wild elephants will naturally undergo far more exercise than those in captivity, often over demanding terrain.

Temple officials have said the elephants are taken for walks of at least 5km each day based on vet advice.

Dr AJT John Singh, former director the Wildlife Institute of India, called the practice a 'grave sin'.

'It's like confining a solitary person in... the middle of the forest,' he said. Elephants are social animals and have amazing social bonds with one another. Breaking that, and keeping the animal alone, is like solitary confinement, the greatest form of punishment to a human being.'

Another pilgrim receives a blessing in the Arunachaleswarer Temple Tiruvannamalai in Tamil Nadu, India











The elephants are all being put on a diet and will be made to take part in more exercise in order to lose weight

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

An article on education in India

Here’s an article on the education system in India that I found on the “Los Angeles Times” website:

latimes.com

COLUMN ONE

India cram schools offer a chance at upward mobility

In Kota, students cram for the grueling engineering entrance exam that could earn them a spot in one of 15 elite Indian Institutes of Technology, or IITs.

By Mark Magnier, Los Angeles Times
10:46 PM PDT, September 10, 2012

Students pack a classroom in Kota, India's cram school capital. Spots at top cram schools are so coveted that entrants take tests to join. (Saurabh Das, Associated Press / August 4, 2010)






KOTA, India — The fourth of seven children of illiterate parents, Mohammad Ahmad grew up on his family's two-acre farm with barely enough to eat. Now that farm, which supports two dozen people in his extended family, is being used as collateral for a chance to score big here in India's cram school capital.

For up to 19 hours a day, seven days a week, the 17-year-old studies, attends classes and takes mock tests, preparing for India's ultra-competitive engineering entrance exam.

In this second-tier city of dusty storefronts and belching rickshaws, Ahmad and the tens of thousands of other students embody a nation's hunger for upward mobility, social respect and a role in the new India. One can almost hear the angst in the creak of cheap student bicycles and the mantra of parents: Forget exercise, dating, video games. How will you ever get into engineering school if you don't study more?

The Holy Grail is a spot at one of 15 Indian Institutes of Technology, or IITs. Admission is blisteringly difficult — think Harvard, Princeton and MIT combined. This year, half a million test takers nationwide elbowed for 9,647 spots. As CBS' "60 Minutes" said, the IITs are "the most important university you've never heard of."

Driving India's love affair with the schools is the promise of higher income, social status, even marriage prospects. Graduates command high salaries, better dowry terms and promising job offers with top Indian and multinational companies. Although many don't ultimately go into engineering, an IIT degree can open doors.

But the entrance exam's 98% failure rate can destroy the dreams of families such as Ahmad's that can ill afford the fees, which approach $1,400 annually.

"This isn't competition, it's gambling," said Abdul Mabood, director of the national help line Snehi, which counsels stressed students, including the legions who travel to this northern city where billboards aplenty promise success: "Unbeatable Performance!" says one. "Bull's Eye Classes," reads another.

Kota's emergence as cram capital for the 4 1/2-hour annual IIT entrance exam owes much to serendipity.

In the mid-1980s, mechanical engineer V.K. Bansal received a diagnosis of muscular dystrophy, quit his job and started coaching IIT aspirants in his kitchen. A few years later, fellow IIT graduate Pramod Maheshwari abandoned dreams of living in the U.S. after protests from his mother and started coaching from his garage.

Both saw their students do well — IIT admissions are so celebrated that top entrants are front-page news — and word spread. In 2000, a Bansal student garnered the highest score in India. "It was a gold medal for us," said A.K. Tiwari, Bansal's chief technology officer in a company that now has 17,000 students and dozens of teachers and administrators.

Both Bansal and Maheshwari are now multimillionaires running massive competing schools. In fact, once-industrial Kota boasts 129 "coaching institutes," from holes in the wall to marble-gilded learning factories.

"I haven't seen a single parent say they don't have the money — they'll sell land, borrow, anything," said Prakash Joy, president of Ables Educations, another Kota cram school.

Spots at the top cram schools are so coveted that entrants take tests to join, even as schools compete to retain top instructors for programs ranging from four months to two years. "Poaching comes with coaching," said Maheshwari, whose Career Point institute boasts 20,000 of Kota's estimated 100,000 students.

For anxious parents, a key attraction to Kota is its near-complete lack of multiplex theaters or pubs. "I have no friends here," said Surabhi Kumari, 17, at Career Point. "My father doesn't want me using my phone. I'm here to study."

Local families in conservative Kota, traditionally known for its woven saris and Mughal military legacy, also play their part. While renting out rooms to students, many serve as surrogate parents, keeping careful watch over their young tenants, tracking their whereabouts and discouraging horseplay.

Four years ago, the city opened its first mall, but most students are so focused they don't know where it is, said Sumit Chaturvedi, 32, who runs hostels for boys and girls. (Separate, of course.) Recently, Chaturvedi evicted a boy for smoking so he wouldn't influence others.

"We keep these things in mind," he said. "Kota is much better for studying. Most big cities have lots of entertainment and distractions."

The IITs are the pride of India, largely free of politics or corruption, earning kudos in 2003 from Microsoft's Bill Gates for helping build Silicon Valley. Indeed, the cram schools and IITs have been criticized for subsidizing brain drain. An old joke holds that IIT graduates have one foot in India, the other aboard Air India.

Others question whether success comes at the cost of creative thinking.

"This has become an exercise much more in memorization rather than helping independent thinking," said N.R. Narayana Murthy, founder of high-tech pioneer Infosys, who says 80% of IIT graduates leave much to be desired.

The grueling process carries another price. "People who miss passing by one-tenth of a percent think they're failures," said Shiv Visvanathan, a sociology professor at O.P. Jindal Global University in Sonipat. "It's mass production of engineers, many of whom don't want to be engineers. The dream has become a nightmare."

Some of the ambivalence was captured in the 2009 Bollywood blockbuster "Three Idiots," about three engineering students, only one of whom enjoys engineering. "I will curse you the rest of my life if you force me" to become an engineer, one character tells his father. "Please, let me do what I want."

Coaching institutes deny they foster an over-reliance on rote and argue that the IITs are a means to an end. Only 20% to 25% "of people end up in engineering," said Career Point founder Maheshwari. "But you essentially go through a process and become logical and creative."

Tiwari, Bansal's technology head, pops into classrooms on an overcast afternoon where as many as 140 students at narrow desks watch teachers solve problems on overhead projectors. "If the government schools were doing their jobs, there'd be no need for coaching," he said.

Although Ahmad's family is very poor, his brother Nizamuddin, 28, a doctor's assistant, wanted him to dream big. When other family members balked at Kota's steep fees, the brother lobbied relentlessly, helping secure a $1,100 loan backed by the farm.

"He's been like a father to me, hellbent on finding a way for me to study," Ahmad said. "I owe him everything."

Even so, Ahmad arrived in Kota $950 short for the two-year cram course. Administrators denigrated him for being poor, Ahmad said, urging him to quit and barring him from classes. But his brother eventually scrounged together most of the shortfall.

Ahmad says his studying is coming along, although living in Kota is expensive. "The rich students spend money like water," he said. "Some laugh at me for being poor, but I ignore them."

Rising at 5 a.m., he studies chemistry and physics until noon, takes classes all afternoon, then studies until midnight, knowing how much depends on his results. He dreams of getting a good job, buying a laptop and supporting his parents.

"For engineers, the sky is the limit," he said. "It's a risk, but I'd never forgive myself for staying in the village and never trying."


Tanvi Sharma of The Times' New Delhi bureau contributed to this report.

Copyright © 2012, Los Angeles Times

Monday, September 10, 2012

Spotted on the Chancery grounds

Here’s a recent photo & video I took of one of the Andrews strutting his stuff around the High Commission grounds, trying to impress the Margarets:
















Spotted at the C-Block shops

Here’s a photo of the taxi drivers at our local shops (C-Block Market, Vasant Vihar) catching up on their favourite Bollywood film or soap apera:


Articles about the Koh-i-Noor diamond

Here’s two articles I found on “The Telegraph” (UK) website about the Koh-i-Noor diamond:

Indian family launch court action for return of Koh-i-Noor diamond

The descendants of the last Maharaja of the Sikh Empire, who was forced to hand over the Koh-i-Noor diamond to Queen Victoria, will on Monday launch a court action for his body and possessions to be returned to India.
  
By Dean Nelson, New Delhi
9:28PM BST 09 Sep 2012

Beant Singh Sandhalwalia claims to be heir to Koh-I-Noor diamond Photo: GAMMA/GETTY

 
The petition from a family claiming to be the descendants of Duleep Singh, who was exiled to Britain, aims to force the Indian government to intensify its efforts to reclaim the Koh-i-Noor.


The family is also seeking the return of Maharaja Ranjit Singh's golden throne and for both to be kept at the Golden Temple, the centre of the Sikh faith, in Amrtisar, India.

Their case reopens a controversial chapter in British colonial history that still arouses strong passions in India, particularly in Punjab, where Sikhs regard the exile of Duleep Singh and his "gift" of the Koh-i-Noor diamond to Queen Victoria in 1850 as a national humiliation.

The diamond had been acquired by his father, Maharaja Ranjit Singh, from the deposed Afghan ruler Shuja Shah Durrani as his price to support his return to power in Kabul.

The legal action seeks to establish the claim of Jaswinder Singh Sandhanwalia, a 50 year old company administrator based in Amsterdam, and his relatives, to be the rightful descendants and heirs of Maharaja Duleep Singh.

According to the family, their great-grandfather Thakur Singh Sandhanwalia was Duleep Singh's blood cousin and his adoptive son. Their claim is based on a letter discovered in the India Office archives by the historical author Christy Campbell, a former Sunday Telegraph journalist, during the research for his 2002 book The Maharaja's Box.

The letter, dated January 7 1889, was written to Duleep Singh by three members of the Sandhanwalia family to explain their plans to ignite a rebellion against British rule and for the Maharaja to return to India with 20,000 foreign fighters to lead the charge.

The Indians had become so demoralised by the defeat of the 1857 Sepoy Mutiny that they would not rise up again without the aid of a foreign army, they said.

The claimants will rely on a paragraph in the letter in which the authors express their gratitude to the Maharaja for adopting them as his own heirs.

"It is impossible for us to express the real sense of indebtedness for the honour of making us son as Y.M (the Maharaja) has been graciously pleased to confer to make us. It is the highest of all honours in the world," they wrote.

Following his exile at 15, Duleep Singh had been raised by guardians in Britain as an English and Scottish gentleman, encouraged to convert to Christianity, and to forget his Indian origins.

He lived in Castle Menzies in Perthshire where his dandyish taste in clothes and love of shooting won him the nickname the 'Black Prince of Perthshire'. He was set up with a shooting estate at Elvedon, Suffolk and later sought in vain to become a Tory MP.
But according to Campbell, he rebelled in 1887 and made contact with the Sandhanwalias.

"He rebelled against his Empress and entered into a bizarre conspiracy with a right-wing Moscow newspaper magnate, Irish nationalists and Sikh patriots (the Sandhanwalias) to reclaim his birthright. As well as the empire of his father, the great Ranjit Singh, which stretched from the Indian Ocean to the Himalayas, it included the Koh-I-Noor diamond.

Duleep claimed he'd been tricked out of it by Queen Victoria. He referred to her as 'Mrs Fagin," he said.

The Sandhanwalia's legal battle for the diamond and their last emperor's body to be returned will begin in Chandigarh's civil court on Monday.

"The great-grandfather of Duleep Singh and the Great-grandfather of the Thakur were from the same family, but he [Duleep Singh] also adopted them as his sons. Our property was confiscated by British rule. This letter establishes us as the rightful heirs of Duleep Singh and we want to get back his remains and his other belongings to the Golden Temple," Jaswinder Singh Sandhanwalia told The Daily Telegraph on Sunday.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Koh-i-Noor: diamond robbery?

 

The Koh-i-Noor diamond now sits in a crown in the Jewel House in the Tower of London. Neil Tweedie explains why the Indians, and Pakistanis, want it back.


Queen Elizabeth (later Queen Mother) wearing the Koh-I-Noor set in her crown on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, after the coronation of King George VI, with daughter Princess Elizabeth, now Queen Elizabeth II. Photo: PA
9:00PM BST 29 Jul 2010

The British, it is said, acquired their empire in a fit of absent-mindedness. The same cannot be said, however, for the treasures residing in it. When it came to relieving foreign potentates of their valuables – whether by “purchase”, looting or as part of a punitive peace treaty – perfidious Albion was in a league all of its own. So when Britain, or rather its proxy, the East India Company, triumphed over the Sikhs in 1849, it was natural that the resulting Treaty of Lahore should include the transfer of a little booty.

And that is why the Koh-i-Noor diamond now sits in a crown in the Jewel House in the Tower of London. And why the Indians, and Pakistanis, want it back.

It was David Cameron’s turn to defend Britain’s imperial light-fingeredness this week when, during his visit to India, he was asked for the return of the diamond, whose name means Mountain of Light. Some Indians have suggested that giving back the gem would serve as “atonement” for the excesses of the Raj.

“If you say yes to one you suddenly find the British Museum would be empty,” explained the Prime Minister to his Indian interviewer, with a mind to the Rosetta Stone, Elgin Marbles and the rest. “I am afraid to say, it is going to have to stay put.”

There was no doubt a sigh of relief from the Queen, who is currently having to undertake her annual Hebridean cruise in a converted car ferry. Losing Britannia was one thing, but the loss of the Koh-i-Noor would be a humiliation too far.

The Koh-i-Noor is not the biggest diamond in Crown Jewels – that distinction belonging to the Cullinan 1 which adorns the sovereign’s sceptre – but it enjoys the greatest mystique. Its origins are lost in time and, like all great treasures, it comes with a curse.

Legend has it that whoever owns the Koh-i-Noor rules the world, a claim not entirely borne out by history. The stone, mined in the Golkonda area of southern India, may have been discovered in the 1300s, or even earlier. The first authentic reference to a diamond matching its description is made in the Baburnama, the memoirs of Babur, first Mogul ruler of India, in 1526. The stone was part of a haul of jewels seized by Babur following a victory, so beginning its career as a spoil of war. Said to be “worth the revenue of whole countries”, it would pass through many royal hands during the next three centuries before its seizure by the British.

The Marquess of Dalhousie, Governor-General of India and the man who consolidated British rule on the sub-continent, was initially unimpressed by the Koh-i-Noor, whose transfer was included in the treaty incorporating the Punjab into the empire. “The Koh-i-Noor is badly cut,” he wrote. “It is rose-cut, not-brilliant, and of course won’t sparkle like the latter.”

The stone was delivered to Queen Victoria in July 1850, but not without trepidation in some quarters. The curse accompanying it warns: “He who owns this diamond will own the world, but will also know all its misfortunes. Only God or Woman can wear it with impunity.”

Dalhousie dismissed it thus: “The Koh-i-Noor has been of ill-fortune only to the few who have lost it. To the long line of emperors, conquerors and potentates who through successive centuries have possessed it, it has been the symbol of victory and empire.
And sure never more than to our Queen. However, if Her Majesty thinks it brings bad luck, let her give it back to me. I will take it and its ill-luck as speculation.”

The stone weighed in at just over 186 carats, a monster of a diamond but disappointing in appearance. Under the direction of Albert, the Prince Consort, the decision was taken to recut it, and Messrs Coster of Amsterdam were given the job. Thirty eight days and £8,000 later it emerged as an “oval brilliant” weighing just under 109 carats – a vast 42 per cent reduction in weight. Albert was unimpressed by such a radical reduction and said so in the clearest terms; but the cutter had had five flaws to contend with and, in the opinion of most experts, carried out his task with superlative skill.

Reborn, the stone was first mounted in a tiara for the Queen containing more than 2,000 diamonds, before being incorporated in the coronation crown of Queen Mary in 1911. In 1937 the Koh-i-Noor was transferred to a crown made for the Queen Elizabeth, wife of George VI. There it remains to this day, set into a Maltese Cross. When the Queen Mother died in 2002 the crown was placed on her coffin for her lying in state.

The Indians were on the case as soon as independence was granted in 1947, requesting the diamond’s return. A second request followed in 1953, the year of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. Then, in 1976, Pakistan joined in, asserting its ownership of the gem. HMG batted away each request with the argument that it had been formally presented to the then sovereign by its rightful owner, the Maharajah of Lahore, and ownership was “non negotiable”. The element of compulsion in the transaction was conveniently ignored.

So, according to legend, the Koh-i-Noor is a girl’s best friend, but not a boy’s. Jack Ogden, chief executive of the Gemmological Association of Great Britain, thinks the curse is just sour grapes. “Like most big diamonds the Koh-i-Noor is associated with bad luck, but that tends to be mentioned by people who no longer own it,” he says.

“Diamond was originally valued for its hardness, its imperviousness to man – the word has its root in the Latin word for invincible. As such, it became a symbol of enduring power. Man only mastered diamond when he started cutting it in the 15th century.”

The historian Anna Keay believes the case for repatriation is a weak one. “The crucial thing is this diamond has been in circulation certainly since the beginning of the 16th century, during which time it has been in the hands of many different rulers. The question is, to which point do you take it back?

“Either you take the view that objects should stay in the country from which they artistically or geologically sprang, or you say things, through the passage of time and circumstance, change hands; and that is the nature of cultural exchange.”

So the Koh-i-Noor still glitters in the dark recesses of the Tower, the symbol of an enduring monarchy. But when will the Mountain of Light again see the light of day? On the head of one Queen Camilla, perhaps? We shall see.

Koh-i-Noors over the world

*Koh I Noor Newcastle’s favourite, windowless Indian restaurant

*Clarus Koh-i-noor a prize winning Yorkshire terrier

*Koh-i-noor Avenue Bushy, Hertfordshire

*Kohinoor 97.3 the jewel of Leicester’s radio waves

*Koh-I-Noor glittery dog collars from dogcollars boutique.com

*Hardy koh-i-noor vintage fishing rod

*Koh-I-Noor wallpaper in white, silver and duck-egg blue, Osbourne and Little

*Koh-I-Noor stationary, with a pencil-shaped head office, Czech Republic.

*Kohinoor hotel, Mumbai

*Kohinoor basmati rice

*Koh-I-Noor nursing home, Wembley, Western Australia

*Koh-I-Noor toiletry range

*The Koh-I-Noor steam boat, 1892

The Hindustan Ambassador is now considered uncool - I don't think so !!

Thank you Paul for bringing this news report to our attention.

The “Ambi” will always be a cool car to us !!


Saturday, September 8, 2012

Some newspaper articles about the Indian PM

Here are two newspaper articles about the former Indian PM. The first is from "The Diplomat" website & the second is the article from "The Washington Post" mentioned in "The Diplomat" article:

Singh vs. The Washington Post

 

By Rajeev Sharma












Prime Minister Manmohan Singh urgently needs an image make-over. His office, better known as the PMO (Prime Minister’s Office) needs some out-of-the-box thinking immediately, as PM Singh’s image increasingly diminishes. The latest example of the PMO’s utter failure has been highlighted in the wake of a disparaging article published in the Washington Post, uncharitably titled “India’s Silent Prime Minister Becomes a Tragic Figure.”

The article by the newspaper’s India bureau chief Simon Denyer has already triggered a political storm of sorts in India. The United Progressive Alliance (UPA) government and the Congress party have both come out harshly against the the piece, taking both the writer and the newspaper to task as the government is reeling under the so-called “Coalgate” crisis. 

The government’s strong reaction is out of place and unwarranted. In fact, there is nothing in the Washington Post article that is not already being openly discussed in India today. Furthermore, India’s own media has editorialized about Singh in far more unsparingly ways than the American newspaper.

The PMO today shot out a letter to Denyer, telling him how he had failed to live up to journalistic ethics by giving a one-sided version. However, Denyer has stuck to his guns. The newspaper updated the controversial article today and published a correction, but stood by the story. The updated article has been posted on the newspaper’s website which had been down for some time this week.

Denyer gave a point-by-point response to a letter from Pankaj Pachauri, Communication Advisor to the PMO. But Denyer refused to apologize and combatively pointed out that he had requested an interview with the PM on three occasions, and others such as TKA Nair, an advisor to the Prime Minister, as well as Pulok Chatterji, Principal Secretary in the PMO. Denyer says he was never granted any of these. “Those requests were either ignored or declined.”

In response to Pachauri’s contention that Denyer had “apologized” three times during their telephonic conversation, Denyer said, “My apology was for the fact that the website was down and the PM’s office could not post a reply directly. As soon as the problem was fixed, I informed them. I stand by the story.”

The updated article is preceded by a “correction.” The correction, in italicized font, reads,“An earlier version of this article failed to credit the Caravan, an Indian magazine, for two statements that it originally published in 2011. The assertion by Sanjaya Baru, a former media adviser that (Prime Minister) Singh had become an object of ridicule and endured the worst period in his life first appeared in the Caravan, as did an assertion by Ramachandra Guha, a political historian, that Singh was handicapped by his ‘timidity, complacency and intellectual dishonesty.’ While both men told The Post that the assertions could accurately be attributed to them, the article should have credited the Caravan when it used or paraphrased the remarks. The article has been updated.”

The re-edited relevant paragraph reads as follows: “’More and more, he has become a tragic figure in our history,’ said political historian Ramachandra Guha. The historian told the Caravan, an Indian magazine, last year that Singh had been fatally handicapped by ‘timidity, complacency and intellectual dishonesty.’”

Image credit: Office of India's Prime Minister

------------------------------------------------------------------------

India’s ‘silent’ prime minister becomes a tragic figure

 

By Simon Denyer, Published: September 5

 

Punit Paranjpe/AFP/Getty Images - Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s second term in office has been damaged by corruption scandals and policy paralysis.


 







NEW DELHI — India’s Prime Minister Manmohan Singh helped set his country on the path to modernity, prosperity and power, but critics say the shy, soft-spoken 79-year-old is in danger of going down in history as a failure.

The architect of India’s economic reforms, Singh was a major force behind his country’s rapprochement with the United States and is a respected figure on the world stage. President Obama’s aides used to boast of his tremendous rapport and friendship with Singh.

But the image of the scrupulously honorable, humble and intellectual technocrat has slowly given way to a completely different one: a dithering, ineffectual bureaucrat presiding over a deeply corrupt government.

Every day for the past two weeks, India’s Parliament has been adjourned as the opposition bays for Singh’s resignation over allegations of waste and corruption in the allocation of coal-
mining concessions.

The story of Singh’s dramatic fall from grace in his second term in office and the slow but steady tarnishing of his reputation has played out in parallel with his country’s decline on his watch. As India’s economy has slowed and as its reputation for rampant corruption has reasserted itself, the idea that the country was on an inexorable road to becoming a global power has increasingly come into question.
“More and more, he has become a tragic figure in our history,” said political historian Ramachandra Guha. The historian told the Caravan, an Indian magazine, last year that Singh had been fatally handicapped by “timidity, complacency and intellectual dishonesty.’’

The irony is that Singh’s greatest selling points — his incorruptibility and economic experience — are the mirror image of his government’s greatest failings.

Under Singh, economic reforms have stalled, growth has slowed sharply and the rupee has collapsed. But just as damaging to his reputation is the accusation that he looked the other way and remained silent as his cabinet colleagues filled their own pockets.

In the process, he transformed himself from an object of respect to one of ridicule and endured the worst period in his life, Sanjaya Baru, Singh’s media adviser during his first term, said in a 2011 interview with the Caravan. In a telephone conversation, Baru said his sentiments had not changed.

Attendees at meetings and conferences were jokingly urged to put their phones into “Manmohan Singh mode,” while one joke cited a dentist urging the seated prime minister, “At least in my clinic, please open your mouth.”

Singh finally did open his mouth last week, to rebut criticism from the government auditor that the national treasury had been cheated of billions of dollars after coal-mining concessions were granted to private companies for a pittance — including during a five-year period when Singh doubled as coal minister.

Singh denied that there was “any impropriety,” but he was drowned out by catcalls when he attempted to address Parliament on the issue. His brief statement to the media afterward appeared to do little to change the impression of a man whose aloofness from the rough-and-tumble of Indian politics has been transformed from an asset into a liability.

“It has been my general practice not to respond to motivated criticism directed personally at me,” he said. “My general attitude has been, ‘My silence is better than a thousand answers; it keeps intact the honor of innumerable questions.’ ”

Singh probably will survive calls for his resignation, but the scandal represents a new low in a reputation that has been sinking for more than a year.

‘I have to do my duty’

Singh was born in 1932 into a small-time trader’s family in a village in what is now Pakistan, walking miles to school every day and studying by the light of a kerosene lamp. The family moved to India shortly before partition of the subcontinent in 1947, and Singh pleaded with his father to be allowed to continue with his studies rather than join the dry-fruit trade.

A series of scholarships allowed Singh to continue those studies first at Cambridge and then at Oxford, where he completed a PhD. Marriage was arranged with Gursharan Kaur in 1958; they have three daughters.

A successful career in the bureaucracy followed, but it was in 1991 that Singh was thrust into the spotlight as finance minister amid a financial crisis.

With little choice, Singh introduced a series of policies that freed the Indian economy from suffocating state control and unleashed the dynamism of its private sector.

More than a decade later, in 2004, Singh again found himself on center stage, becoming in his own words an “accidental prime minister.”

The Congress party led by Italian-born Sonia Gandhi had surprised many people by winning national elections that year, but she sprang an even bigger surprise by renouncing the top job and handing it to Singh.

In him she saw not only the perfect figure­head for her government but also a man of unquestioning loyalty, party insiders say, someone she could both trust and control.

“I’m a small person put in this big chair,” Singh told broadcaster Charlie Rose in 2006. “I have to do my duty, whatever task is allotted of me.”

From the start, it was clear that Sonia Gandhi held the real reins of power. The Gandhi family has ruled India for most of its post-independence history and enjoys an almost cultlike status within the Congress party. Sonia’s word was destined to remain law.

But Singh made his mark during his first term in office, standing up to opposition from his coalition partners and from within his own party to push through a civil nuclear cooperation deal with the United States in 2008, a landmark agreement that ended India’s nuclear isolation after its weapons tests in 1974 and 1998.

It was a moment that almost brought his government down, an issue over which he offered to resign. While no electricity has yet flowed from that pact, it marked a major step forward in India’s relations with the United States.

The Congress-led coalition went on to win a second term in 2009, in what many people saw as a mandate for Singh.

The 2009 election “was a victory for him, but he did not step up to claim it — maybe because he is too academic, maybe because he is too old,” said Tushar Poddar, managing director at Goldman Sachs in Mumbai. “That lack of leadership, that lack of boldness, lack of will — that really shocked us. That really shocked foreign investors.”

‘He suffers from doubts’

In a series of largely off-the-record conversations, friends and colleagues painted a picture of a man who felt undermined by his own party and who sank into depression and self-pity.

His one attempt in 1999 to run for a parliamentary seat from a supposedly safe district in the capital, New Delhi, had ended in ignominious defeat. His failure to contest a parliamentary seat in 2009, making him the only Indian prime minister not to have done so, further undermined both his confidence, his friends and colleagues say, and his standing in the eyes of the party.

Congress, insiders say, never accepted that the 2009 election was a mandate for Singh and jealously resented the idea that he could be seen to be anywhere near as important as a Gandhi. Rahul, Sonia’s son, was being groomed to take over from Singh, and the prime minister needed to be cut down to size.

He soon was openly criticized by his own party over attempts to continue a peace process with Pakistan despite the 2008 attack on Mumbai by Pakistani militants.

Singh became even more quiet at his own cabinet meetings, to the point of not speaking up for the sort of economic changes many thought he ought to be championing.

“His gut instincts are very good, but sometimes he suffers from doubts about the political feasibility, about getting things done,” said Jagdish N. Bhagwati, a Columbia University professor who has been friends with Singh since their Cambridge days.

Singh will go down in history as India’s first Sikh prime minister and the country’s third-longest-serving premier, but also as someone who did not know when to retire, Guha said.

“He is obviously tired, listless, without energy,” he said. “At his time of life, it is not as though he is going to get a new burst of energy. Things are horribly out of control and can only get worse for him, for his party and for his government.”

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