The Indian Economy - Page 32

India's monsoon rains are likely to remain active over many parts of the country, except in the northwestern regions, the India Meteorological Department said. Widespread rainfall activity is likely to continue over many parts of east and central India during the next 48 hours, the weather department said on its Web site. The country's June-September monsoon season is important for summer-sown crops such as oilseeds, rice, cotton and sugar cane, as 60% of the fields are rain-fed.

Car sales in India rose for the fifth straight month in June, driven primarily by lower lending rates and the introduction of new models from auto makers. Sales climbed 7.8% in June to 107,531 cars from the 99,741 sold a year earlier, showed data issued Wednesday by the Society of Indian Automobile Manufacturers industry group. Higher borrowing costs and a slowing economy reduced demand for cars and two-wheelers in Asia's third-largest automobile market last year. But sales began to recover earlier this year after a slew of stimulus packages, including tax cuts, from the federal government and a lowering of borrowing rates by financial institutions. Compared to a year earlier, car sales grew 22% in February the first monthly rise since last September 1% in March, 4.2% in April and 2.5% in May. Overall, the auto industry has exhibited a positive trend in volume growth over the last four to five months. The rising trend in vehicle sales will only be confirmed when auto makers report a gradual positive trend in volumes over the next couple of months. Automakers in India have introduced several new small cars and sedans since January in an effort to lure more customers. Maruti Suzuki India Ltd. began selling the Ritz, its seventh small car model, in May as it worked to maintain its leadership in the expanding market. Sales at Maruti a unit of Suzuki Motor Corp. gained 12% to 54,693 cars as the market leader sold more A-Star, Ritz and Swift cars. Fiat SpA introduced its Grande Punto hatchback last month, with the company lifting car sales to 2,464 units in June from 500 a year earlier. Second-ranked carmaker Hyundai Motor Co. posted a 5.2% rise to 23,013 cars, while Tata Motors, the country's third-largest auto maker, rose 3.2% to 13,732 cars. Sales at Honda Motor Co.'s local unit increased 13.5% to 5,039 cars in June, boosted by the introduction of the Jazz hatchback model. Full-year outlook was based on stimulus packages, referring to annual sales outlook announced in April. Currently nothing has changed and it is too early to factor in the impact of the monsoon. Normal monsoon rains are considered key to higher sales of cars, commercial vehicles and motorcycles in India's growing rural markets. About half of the country's agriculture depends on monsoons rains. Monsoon rains are forecast to be below normal this year and auto makers have previously said they are studying for possible impact of this delay on their sales. Local car saleswere to grow 3%-5% in this fiscal year that began April 1. Truck and bus sales may grow 7%-10%, while that of motorcycles and scooters are projected to rise up to 5%. Local sales of trucks and buses slid 12.5% to 36,193 vehicles in June because of a decline in sales of medium and heavy commercial vehicles. Sales in the medium and heavy commercial vehicle segment declined 31% to 15,659 vehicles as Tata Motors and Ashok Leyland the top two manufacturers posted lower sales in a slowing economy. Light commercial vehicle sales, however, increased 10% to 20,534 units in June. In the motorcycle segment, sales gained 16% in June to 550,833 units as Hero Honda Motors Ltd., Yamaha Motor Co. and Honda Motorcycle & Scooter India Ltd. saw an increase in demand. Motorcycle sales of second-ranked Bajaj Auto Ltd. and third-ranked TVS Motor Co., however, declined. Scooter sales rose 25% to 111,980 units in June, with Hero Honda, Honda Motorcycle and TVS posting higher sales.

Here are dramatic canyons with multicolored walls and villages unchanged for centuries. Many of the mountain-savvy inhabitants are willing to guide visitors safely through difficult terrain and weather. To talk with people who spend half the year in isolation, when villages are cut off by snow, is to meet people from another world.

Yet political turmoil is threatening to make trekking in this part of Asia as much of an endangered species as the snow leopards prowling the mountains above Rumbak. That leaves Ladakh, bordering Tibet in India's far north, with an ethnic Tibetan populace unfettered by Chinese restrictions. The capital, Leh, lies just a one-hour flight from New Delhi; many treks have starting points just a short drive from Leh. The region, in India's Jammu and Kashmir State, is often perceived as having widespread Hindu-Muslim violence, even though that conflict is a two-day journey away. Still, only a sprinkling come says Rigzin Jora, the state's tourism minister.

Ladakh has been open to tourists only since 1974, following a period when it was enmeshed in India's border disputes and military actions with Pakistan and China. Before 1974, Ladakhis were really suffering, says Mohammed Rafi, an academician who specializes in Indian tribal art. The 300,000 residents are definitely better off now because of tourism, he says. They have no income except for tourism. Commerce here grinds to a halt in winter, when snow cuts off the highway that leads to the rest of India. Leh's many restaurants and souvenir shops try to earn a year's income in the span of the short tourist season. Tourists who do come "tend to be very interested in Tibetan culture, says Lars Lindstrom, a Ladakh resident and board member of the Swedish aid organization Friends of Ladakh. That has led people here to appreciate and want to preserve their culture.

A bumpy drive along a ridge far above the Indus River broings to Zinchen, the starting point of the trek, the view down to the river. Zinchen consisted of two stone houses, where our horseman waited to transfer the gear for five days on the Markha Valley trek, named for the place where it ends.

A Himalayan trek shouldn't be undertaken lightly. A beautiful day can quickly turn into rain or snow. Many treks lack satellite phones: If a trekker can't be evacuated on horseback, someone has to walk out to arrange an Indian army helicopter. At one point, when climbing to a 16,000-foot pass stop every few steps to breathe hard and fill lungs, go more than a few steps without wanting to take a photo. Ladakh's arid train has rocks ablaze with color, and where streams come down from the mountains, bright-green pastures enclose vivid-red blooms on hundreds of wild rose trees.

In Ladakh, there will be no running water at your camp site or homestay, one of the private houses that take paying guests overnight. Toilets everywhere are stone enclosures with a dirt floor and a hole leading to a deep pit. Showers generally mean splashing around in a freezing-cold stream. An enterprising family in Rumbak installed a drain in the concrete floor of a closet-size room; for $2, they draw a big bucket of water from the river, heat it on their wood-burning stove and install you in the room with the bucket and a little plastic pitcher.

But joys outweighed inconveniences. Many agencies sponsoring Ladakh trekking insist on high environmental standards, and that seems to have had an effect. Remarkably little litter during trek, whereas on a trek in Nepal 20 years ago, littering by local residents was ubiquitous. More importantly, rarely encountered people so friendly and seemingly uncorrupted by foreigners, who often earn far more in a week than they would earn in a year. receive many invitations to enter villagers' homes for tea and biscuits; hosts would have been insulted if offered to pay.

The horseman on trek supports a big family in Rumbak and earns just $7 a day on days when he has work. Yet at the end of the trek, he turned around so fast to take his horses back home that one had to run after him to give him a $20 tip.

Crane Crash Follows Bridge Collapse

On Saturday, Bill Gates will pick up the Indira Gandhi Prize for Peace, Disarmament and Development from India's president. He will be the first businessman to receive the prize since it was instituted in 1986. He won't be collecting it for Microsoft but for the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, which was awarded the 2007 prize last year but is only receiving it now. In theory, it could have been an Indian businessman receiving this prestigious award. But it isn't. The reason: The Gates Foundation has invested almost $1 billion in the past decade on philanthropic work in India. Don't believe any individual Indian businessman could come remotely close to matching that. Why not? Obviously, the Gates Foundation is backed by Mr. Gates's huge riches, which have for years made him the world's richest man. Yet India has its fair share of billionaires, multimillionaires and millionaires who could be giving away a good proportion of their money for the betterment of their country but aren't, at least not on even a fraction of the Gates scale. Amid the broad adoption of U.S. business culture in Indian industry, this lack of dramatic, sustained, well-organized individual giving practically a competitive sport in U.S. business circles is sadly conspicuous by its absence. Corporate social responsibility, a growing field, is a different beast. We need to see more of the sort of vast private endowments that Western people make to foster art and other cultural projects, says Gautam Thapar, chairman of industrial group Avantha. His grandfather set up Thapar University in the Punjab as a philanthropic exercise more than 50 years ago and the family still funds it today. Many reasons wealthy Indians don't give more, or even much. Mr. Thapar says it's because the tax regime has not been favorable to the accumulation of great wealth in individual hands. The more jaded say it is connected to a lack of community spirit an extension of the attitude that makes people maintain a spotless home but look the other way at the trash on the street. That is belied by the fact that ordinary Indians, when asked to give, give generously to those in need. Others maintain it is because there are no good outlets for their donations: there are few prominent national charities or foundations that instill trust in potential donors or are transparent enough to demonstrate that funds are being put to good use. That may explain why much of the sustained good work you do hear about is done, literally, on an individual level building a road in an ancestral village or sponsoring village children in school. Tarun Das, chief mentor to the Confederation of Indian Industry, says it is because India's wealthy are too easily satisfied by giving a little and they're probably insecure that, if they give too much away, will there be enough? Fortunately, this aspect may be changing. After years of the so-called Hindu rate of growth, India's economy has romped along for long enough that it has instilled some confidence in the nation's wealthy that the sky won't fall tomorrow. And there are some Indian entrepreneurs who are starting to set an example. Shiv Nadar, chairman of HCL Technologies, says he has put 450 crore (about $94 million) of his own money into his educational initiatives an engineering college in Chennai and a series of residential schools for poor kids in Uttar Pradesh, among other initiatives. Now 64 years old, Mr. Nadar says he wishes he had gotten into philanthropy sooner. I read something that if you knew grandchildren were so much fun, you should have had them before children, he says. So if I had known not-for-profit was so fulfilling, I should have got started there much, much earlier. He'd like to see more of his peers involved. There is no point in just writing a check, he says. It is your time that is more valuable. So far, however, he says they are virtually invisible. Even if a nascent philanthropic culture is emerging, Mr. Das says of his fellow (well-to-do) Indians: They must do more because they've got new wealth. I feel they can multiply what they do as individuals and corporations by one hundred times. Maybe some will be inspired to do so when they see Mr. Gates collecting a prize

Village fairs have always captivated Jatin Das. As a boy growing up in the eastern Indian state of Orissa, the artist, now 67 years old, would return home from bustling fairs with armfuls of brightly lacquered handcrafted toys. A doting grandmother often indulged him. So began his odyssey as a collector, recalls Mr. Das, now a renowned painter. While his artistic ambitions eventually led him to the prestigious Sir J.J. School of Art in Mumbai and subsequently to establish a home and studio in New Delhi, he still travels to Orissa at least six times a year to see family and friends and delights in purchasing all sorts of toys, terracotta objects, ceramics and other handicrafts by Indian artisans.

Few of his countrymen, he observes, share his regard for traditional crafts. Indians are systematically destroying their heirlooms, their treasures and their traditions, says Mr. Das, whose home state is famous for its temple carvings and bright cloth appliqu wall hangings. They are going for the plastic culture, the synthetic culture. They want to be modern in a vulgar way. Mr. Das has his own interpretation of modernism. Over the course of his career, his large oil canvases have featured muscular human figures limbs akimbo, devoid of any ornamentation that one might expect from a handicraft aficionado. The backgrounds remain abstract, with shifting fields of color and confident lines that define the composition. Such works first brought him acclaim in the 1960s and '70s, and they continue to win him admirers today. In his most recent solo show in India, Earth Bodies," held in May at the India Habitat Centre Visual Arts Gallery in New Delhi, his palette favored burnt sienna, dark green and maroon. Overseas, his work has been auctioned in recent years at Bonham's in London, Christie's in New York and Versailles Enchres Perrin-Royere-Lajeunesse in France. This month Mr. Das will reside at the Chelsea Arts Club in London, which has mounted an exhibition of his work that will run through August. And in September, the painter will travel to San Francisco to attend the opening of his show at the Artists Alley Gallery. The father of a 6-year-old son by his second wife, Bidisha Roy Das, Mr. Das has two adult children from his first marriage. Sporting a bushy white beard and a puff of thinning white hair, Mr. Das is older than many of the country's contemporary art stars who get so much attention these days. Yet some critics note the erotic vitality of his work from jutting hips, buoyant breasts and sometimes playful, coquettish poses. Such energy also comes across in his watercolors, drawings, murals and sculptures.

Collecting crafts can be a space-consuming hobby. To avoid an avalanche of clutter, and to make his treasures available to the public, the painter dispatched 300 boxes of his various collectibles ' toys, terracotta artifacts, handicrafts and fans ' to his latest pet project: the JD Centre of Art, a museum he founded to showcase his collection that is now under construction just outside of Orissa's capital, Bhubaneswar. Staffers at the center are still busy photographing and archiving the objects, which will be displayed when the galleries open in late 2010.

Of all the artifacts he's amassed, the collectible that remains closest to his heart is the pankha, a term for a hand-held fan derived from the Hindustani word for the feather of a bird, pankhi. Sourced from all over India, as well as many other countries, his collection numbers 6,500. Highlights have been displayed in Kuala Lumpur, Manila, London and Belgium over the past five years.

In recent months, Mr. Das has also wangled meetings with top city officials in New Delhi to discuss his longstanding proposal for a National Fan Museum in the nation's capital. Still pleading for funds, archival support, volunteers and other assistance for this grand project, Mr. Das concedes that it's all "madness of a kind." Yet he remains determined to arouse wider interest in the many-folded wonders of the pankha.

What is the essential appeal of a fan?

It creates air, which is energy-giving. It's cooling. It's cajoling. It has romance. The electric fan is monotonous.

Are certain fans more romantic than others?

Some fans are made of certain roots that are fragrant. You sprinkle some water on it, and then you fan, and then you get the fragrance. There is a lot of subtlety.

Twenty-seven years ago, a friend of mine presented me with a very beautiful fan. It was beaded, from Rajasthan. I took the fan and I said, "Let me stir the still air" ' and I thought immediately that this could be title of a book. I decided to build a collection. With me, many things happen like that. An idea comes, and then I smell it like a dog and I follow it. (He is still at work on the book manuscript.)

How big is your collection now?

What started as a random collection became a subject for systematic study, research and documentation. In addition to the 6,500 fans in storage next to my (New Delhi) studio, I have about 2,000 paintings and photographs of fans. I (have) made 10 documentary films on fan-making with my wife and daughter. I've got poems on fans. I became a member of The Fan Circle International in the U.K. an organization of fan collectors.

I have fans from Africa, China, Japan, Egypt, Korea and Southeast Asia. I also have a fan from Sweden, which they use for fanning the cold.

Which are your most treasured fans?

Sometimes a very simple fan can be very beautiful. One favorite is a two-rupee (about U.S. 4 cents) fan made from a waterborne grass in Haryana (a northern state that borders the city of New Delhi). I also have favorites that are worth 100,000 or 200,000 Indian rupees (about $2,050 to $4,100), with handles made of silver, ivory or lacquer. There are also pure silver and gold threaded fans from the (Indian) royal families.

In many cultures, there is something inherently hierarchical about the fan. You have the peon, and then you have the person who is sitting there, enjoying the breeze from the fan. What do you think?

Am I glorifying the aristocracy? No! I am celebrating the craft. I am talking about the poetry of the fan.

Within India, what is your modus operandi for acquiring a new fan?

Suppose you are staying in a hotel. You tell a driver or a cook that you are looking for a fan. They know where to look. Indian arts and crafts are known to poor and lower-middle-class people. The sophisticated and the educated do not know ' they are not connected to the cultural landscape of India. I find that very sad. When I go to a village, I go to a poor man's market, where vegetables and other things are sold. Then I get a fan there. Every summer the fans are still made, all over the country, in rural areas.

Who creates these fans?

Ninety-nine percent of the (Indian) fans (I own) are made by women. At the end of winter, in January/February, they collect the raw material. By early March, they make the fans and then sell them in the market. Some use bamboo, date palm, cane or palm leaf. They sell for two rupees, five rupees, 10 rupees normally they are very simple. Then she might add a little silk or a few feathers, and make her own craft out of it. That's the beauty of Indian tradition.

Don't you ever get tired of adding to your collection?

When I see something special, I can't resist.