Almost 1 year of no writing.

This is the age of consumer-created content where every person can become a publisher and reach a worldwide audience. Publishing is trivial. Set up a blog (if you’re stuck in the 90s) or a twitter account (if you’re more of the age) – and there you go. Consumption is even easier; all you need to do is lounge on your sofa and immerse  your mind in an endless info-stream to sterilize your mind.

The very technology that allowed me to blog now seems to be killing my desire (or ability) to write. Consuming is so easy. Its tempting to think that reading the tens of thousands of snippits  pushed onto my Android phone, iPad and laptop every day somehow make me smarter. That I will someday find use for Vintage Hemingway Wallpaper, Milstein Hall, Warhol Rules or Anna Dello Russo.  There is a case to be made for learning for learning’s sake. But do these bits of fleeting data constitute knowledge? Entertainment – yes. Knowledge? I’m not sure.

The internet is rewiring our mind – some would say that its making us stupid.

Most of our groundbreaking ideas seem to occur out of nowhere. The aha moment in the shower. The unexpected insight in the kitchen. Or the flash of inspiration at a desolate beach. It doesn’t occur when you have 10 different streams clammering for attention. Tweets, notifications, texts, blackberry pings and farmville alerts – they dull you into a vegetative state with a drip-feed of toxic nutrients.

I guess that explains a year of no writing. I’m too content with consuming to create. Too hooked-on to the opiate of connection.

-Adnan

I really should not be up this early, but the successive jetlags have not been too kind on my bio-clock. First Dubai to east coast, and just when I thought I had the jetlag thing figured out, I sling-shot myself, on a rickety United flight, to the glorious capital of global sin.

And so, in the grand pyramid of Luxor, featuring the brightest man-made light projecting into the atmosphere, I had my first encounter with the slot machine. I lost a whopping 6 dollars – and here i was thinking I had skill.

On the way back, I quipped, to my friend who lives here: I don’t know why logical people gamble? And proceeded to have 30 minute discussion (argument?!) over the case for Vegas. My position, perhaps unfairly parochial, was this:

Why would a rational person put money in the slot machine, or on the table, when he knows that the odds are so heavily stacked against him that on an aggregate basis they will always lose money?

I mean, would you knowingly buy a stock that you know will eat 50% of your equity or even 15%? In my mind, playing a lottery and feeding a slot machine is like putting a wad of cash on fire – money you will never see again. And to be honest, I thought this case was so compelling that a counter argument is a non-starter.

Not if the friend arguing with you is a business-savvy, epicurean deconstructionist. Here is the case he made:

Firstly, the gambling industry is very closely regulated with the probability in favor of the house closely monitored – so in most games the aggregate probably is not “heavily” but reasonably stacked against you. In the slot machines for example, the aggregate probability is only about 5% in favor of the house. So an a sample of sufficient trials, you should only lose 5% of the money.

Secondly, gambling is not an investment, its entertainment. You go to the casino to experience the thrill, the adrenalin rush of winning and losing, of beating the house. And you pay for that – but how is that payment different from watching a movie? A “rational” person can decide what his apetite for risk is, if it is zero, he can always go watch Casino Royale on the silver screen, but he will still walk away 20 dollars and 3 hours poorer.

Thirdly, gambling can be a source of good. Take for example, the employment it has created for thousands. The chefs, the gymnasts, the singers, (the strippers? : P) . It created a city in the middle of the desert (sound familiar, right?)? so people could flock there for an escape, and in doing so, built a massive economy, universities, schools and architectural marvels.

—

Reflecting on this argument in the wee hours of the morning with the lucidity of a sleep deprived truck driver – I think he has a point. Not that a counter argument cannot still be made, but what it boils down to is:

People have always gambled, and in places of prohibition, it still happens, behind closed doors, unregulated, unchecked. Wouldn’t making it legit allow better monitoring and control, bring it under the tax net, and as an ancillary benefit, allow patronage of the arts, however, extravagant and plastic?

I think my friend and I were both discussing minutiae, because I was never questioning the legality of gambling. I believe adults have the right to do whatever they choose. What we were arguing over was the rationality of the gamblers and that again is a subtle point:

Spock will never gamble, as he will calculate the sterile mathematical probability and it will not equate. Kirk, on the other hand, will gamble at every galactic casino, while having three simultaneous love affairs with 3 different humanoid species. Irrational – yes. But that’s what makes him human – and captain.

Time to sign off…I can hear the slot machines ringing. :p

-Adnan

They came first for the Ahmedis
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Ahmedi

Then they came for the Hindus, Christians
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t either
……
Then they came for the Shias
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Shia

Then they came for the accused Blasphemer
and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t an accused Blasphemer

Then they came for me
and by that time no one was left to speak up

Welcome to the Moral Collapse of Pakistan.

-Adnan

Poor Urdu.

I didn’t care much for Urdu growing up. It was just something I had to do in school, not “learn”, but cram just enough to clear the exams. Even though I was schooled in the FSc system, and took urdu literature, my  reading proficiency was so poor that Amma had to read chapters to me prior to the exam, in the hope that I would remember enough to scribble something half meaningful in my broken handwriting. I eventually  triumphed with a glorious D.  I would never have to look at Urdu again.

After escaping the torture of Urdu language, when I entered university in suburban Punjab (PIEAS), I was horrified to see  “Urdu medium” students – y’know the type who actually read Jang?  To rescue them from their lingual misfortunes, I set up, along with three urban kids, an English Literary society to teach the masses the joys of English conversation. And everybody gladly enrolled; part of the reason of course was that 2 of the 3 girls on campus where in my little English-speaking clique. We had one language to rule them all. But the real reason is that the “Urdu medium crowd”,  as we disparagingly called them, despite their high grades, and smart minds,  felt less capable. Urdu was the burden they carried, a scar too obvious to hide.

Fast forward 10 years.

I now realize how grave our mistake really was and how dangerous is the precedent that we set. I see parents whom we would deride in the immaturity of youth, as being “urdu medium”, now only speak to their toddlers in English. I see an entire generation, not recognizing the beauty of their language, struggling to speak where I once merely struggled to read and write. I know a case in which the son of an Urdu teacher grew up not knowing the language that was supposed to be his. In cafes and restaurants,  radios and TVs, all I hear is either English, spoken in a plastic accent meant to impress, or a vile form of Urdu adulterated and abused.

What have we done!?!

During my travels, I have occasionally been complimented “…your English is really good”. The 18-year-old me would have been joyous, but I now cringe  because I have only recently begun to understand the sub-print: “…(as your second language)”. But where is my first language? My stamp of identity?

It is in tatters, dying a painful death from neglect, from discrimination and from the shame of defeat, not at the hands of its erstwhile colonial masters, but us, its supposed saviours.

Is Urdu dead?

-Adnan

ps. Sabeen and Zak, thank you for your efforts to trigger the reawakening of our generation. One Ghalib event is more inspirational than years of bland classroom instruction.

If you’ve read Jawwad Farid’s Reboot, then you know about his flaming startup Avicena that was supposed to sell easy to digest finance courses online. The good news is that Jawwad has been putting a lot of that content in the public domain. From a beginners guide to Corporate Finance to the demystification of derivatives – you might just find what you’re looking for here, saving the agony of a class-room finance course.

If you have an interest in Corporate Finance, take a look at the following corporate finance courses available on the Corporate Finance E-education Portal

Introductory and Intermediary Finance courses

• Corporate Finance: First Course
• Master Class: Calculating Value at Risk
• Master Class: Credit Analysis
• Master Class: Credit Process
• Master Class: Derivative products
• Master Class: Ratio Analysis
• Master Class: Risk for the Oil and Petrochemical Industry

Touch them and die Finance courses – advance courses for the more adventurous

• Pricing Interest Rate Swaps – The valuation and MTM course
• The Derivatives Crash Course for Dummies
• Treasury Operations
• Asset Liability Management – The ALM Crash course and survival guide
• Derivative Pricing, Risk Management, Financial Engineering – Equation Reference
• Interest Rate Options – Pricing Caps and Floors

Cases

• Master Case: AMD: Valuation and Projections: Case Guide
• Master Case: Corporate Finance: LLC or C-Corp
• Master Case: Credit Process: Baldwin Piano
• Master Case: Electronic Arts: Corporate Finance
• Master Case: Office Depot: Ratio Analysis
• Master Case: Ratio Analysis: ODP and Staples

Last time I was in Karachi, Jehan invited me to a bloggers meet-up at t2f to honor Self Exile’s adventurous motorbike exploration of Pakistan. Other than Jehan and I, there about 4-5 other bloggers on the table – and as is usually the case with our generation, each one of them had a burning desire, veiled by light-hearted jokes and banter, to make the world a better place. Not necessarily in a touch-feely, NGO-type way, but by doing cutting edge work, fostering entrepreneurship and empowering others.

As the conversation veered towards education, one of the guys on the table asked me if one needs an MBA to be successful. To be sure, I’m only qualified to answer that question, not by any illusions of success, but the clarity of failure. That afternoon I gave an uncontroversial answer: it depends. If you want a career in management consulting or investment banking or brand management (i.e. In Pakistan: selling soap at Unilever), then an MBA might make sense. But you don’t NEED an MBA to be a successful entrepreneur: some would say its quite the opposite.

At the macroscopic level MBAs (and especially BBAs) do not significantly contribute to the competitive edge of a nation. That responsibility lies with engineers and scientists. It also rests with artists, writers and other cultural leaders – not MBAs. For any country, especially one like Pakistan, to be competitive, we need to build stuff to solve pressing problems in the world. Energy efficient water purification, pest resistant crop, natural language search, portable micro-labs, AIDS vaccines, implantable insulin pumps – that’s the kind of stuff we need to build. Paintings, movies, novels, calligraphy, ceramics, architecture, fashion – that’s the kind of stuff we need to export.

MBAs can help you re-engineer business processes. They can teach you about talent management. They can do a Porters 5-forces to help you understand the obvious. They can charge jaw-dropping amounts to underwrite your IPO. But they can only do that if you, mr. entrepreneur, set up a billion dollar business around patented technology that helps you solve real problems. We need more engineers, not MBAs.

An MBA is not a futile degree. If are you are a sitar maestro who has never read a balance sheet, an MBA can open a new world rich with business possibility and ambition. If you’ve spent 4 years researching the nuances of micro-biology, an MBA can accelerate your career through the business ranks. An MBA gives you the opportunity to build a network that spans the globe. But to derive real value from an MBA, you need to have substance going in. In Pakistan, however, this substance is often missing.

Most kids I come across want to study business management to take a “managerial position” right after undergrad. Often, you have a thousand kids competing for 4 odd MT positions at Unilever or P&G so they can push pre-formated marketing campaigns to the unwitting Pakistani populace. And the 996 who are the unable to get in then return to business school to learn more of what they will never need.

We need our smartest kids to take up  engineering and science so they can solve the world’s problems and not squander their potential by enrolling into BBA/MBA programs.

-Adnan

I find interviewing 2-year-old toddlers for their suitability for admission into primary school repulsive. There its out of my system. What continues to puzzle me is that 3000 parents, grandparents, drivers and maids are willing to take turns to queue up at 5am just to get an  interview slip, which entitles a snobbish, post-colonial relic to judge if your little star has what it takes to make the cut. You give them the power to reject your son, nephew or granddaughter. By queuing in line you’re telling them that they hold all the cards, all the keys, all the magic potions. Without  their stamp of snobbish approval, your kid might as well not try, because the effort is futile. Why would you do that?!?

I have nothing against Grammar. Its a private school, and they can structure their admissions process anyway they want. They can make parents jump through hoops and roll over backwards for all I care. They can even make toddlers sing karaoke to verify if their theatrical skills meet the standard of the mythical grammarian. My problem is with the parents. Don’t they know any better?

Why do you send your kid to school? Because you want him to learn, interact, have fun, make friends. You send him to school to find inspiration, interests, diversity. To sing in tune- and out of tune. To draw with vivid crayons between the lines – and outside of them. You don’t send him to school for a thappa.

Grammar does not have a monopoly on good education, nor does it claim to. What it does have, however, is a reputation built over decades-which some argue is gradually eroding. Its reputation is built, not so much on the quality of its education, but by the subtle social hierarchy that it plays into. “Oh, my kid goes to Grammar” means so much more than where your kid is learning to read and write. If you’re sending your kid to Grammar to get ahead in the social rat race, go right ahead. But after 12 years, and by consequence for the rest of his life, he will still be a rat.

If you plan to play the Grammar admission roulette, then do it for the right reasons. Would sending your kid to Grammar teach him social values? Would it show him the joy of mathematics? Or Urdu literature? or Mandarin poetry? Would it develop not destroy the unburdened inventiveness of youth? Would it make him a dreamer ready to take on the world? Would your child wake up full of excitement to go to school?

If you believe Grammar is that institute, then by all means queue up at 5am. Don’t do it for a thappa.

-Adnan

So now I finally understand what the big deal with China is. Last week I was out discovering Shanghai and  Beijing, two cities with with a collective population of about 35 million people; a full 3% of China.

I was supposed to be in the US right about now. After 7 weeks of waiting, when they decided that my application warrants “additional administrative processing” and that I should contact them after 90 days in case the status of my application does not change. I decided it was time to visit a more welcoming country. After striking out all of north America, most of Europe, most of Oceania, one country that clearly stood out was China. With the October issue of Economist fresh in my mind, I decided it was time to explore the exoticism of the orient. Visa took 3 working day, and the flight cost $600. This trip was going to be a bargain.

One small detailed I neglected to look into, amidst all the pseudo-intellectual journalism on China, was the freaking weather. How cold can China be I wondered, thinking rather profoundly that its next to Pakistan, hence… Geography was never my strength. Nor well planned vacations. Sitting in my dadi’s living room in Karachi, a day before departure, when my chacha told me that all flight to Beijing had been canceled because of a wild snow storm, it was a reasonably unpleasant jolt. It was too late to cancel anything. Hotels booked, tickets issued. I took out my only winter jacket (a fleece Duke hoodie), a sweater, and off I went to -7 degrees Celsius of Chinese bliss.

The hotel which seemed very central, turned out to be 30 minutes from the city center far. Next time you look up hotels in Google maps, please remember that the proximity of two pins depends radically on the zoom level. Braving a whiplash of freezing wind, I headed out to meet an old friend at Wangfujing.  Emenegildo Zengn, Aramani, Prada, Herme stood lined up against little shop selling beanies and scarves. After eating the best damn Kungpao chicken and beef with chilli ever (btw food in China tastes radically different from the junk served at China Town Karachi), we headed out to the Hutongs, the narrow streets and katchi abadi type single story dens where Beijingers lived as recently as 1980. Now most have been converted into streets with posh bars, art shops, and galleries. I would attached pictures, but for the fear of frost-bite couldn’t take any.

That was Evening 1. In the next couple of days, I explored the Forbidden City, the infamous Tianemen Square, the Olympic stadiums, the industrial art district. Most notably, I omitted the Great Wall; I figured I can just see it from the moon.

-Adnan

ps. This post was written in November 2009 and then conveniently forgotten in an obscure corner of my now defunct hard drive. Better late than never.

The most erudite iPad analysis I’ve come across; you can trust Nick to give pretty much everything a new twist:

Is it possible for a Geek God to also be a Luddite? That was the question that popped into my head as I read Cory Doctorow's impassioned anti-iPad diatribe at Boing Boing. The device that Apple calls “magical” and “revolutionary” is, to Doctorow, a counterrevolutionary contraption conjured up through the black magic of the wizards at One Infinite Loop. The locked-down, self-contained design of the iPad – nary a USB port in sight, and don't even think about loading an app that hasn't been blessed by Apple – manifests “a palpable contempt for the owner,” writes Doctorow. You can't fiddle with the dang thing:

The original Apple ][+ came with schematics for the circuit boards, and birthed a generation of hardware and software hackers who upended the world for the better. If you wanted your kid to grow up to be a confident, entrepreneurial, and firmly in the camp that believes that you should forever be rearranging the world to make it better, you bought her an Apple ][+ ... The way you improve your iPad isn't to figure out how it works and making it better. The way you improve the iPad is to buy iApps. Buying an iPad for your kids isn't a means of jump-starting the realization that the world is yours to take apart and reassemble; it's a way of telling your offspring that even changing the batteries is something you have to leave to the professionals.

via Rough Type: Nicholas Carr’s Blog: The iPad Luddites.