The Importance Of Coherence In Citizen Reportage

A few days ago, I came across an Instagram post that narrated the personal account of a woman whose livelihood had been devastated by current economic conditions. The post alleged that a rise in Goods and Services Tax had resulted in the lady’s foreign clients ceasing their relationship with her small enterprise.

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Prima facie, this post made little sense, as the export of goods and services is Zero rated, and would not impact pricing offered to overseas clients. Even if suppliers of her raw materials charged GST, this would be recoverable as an input tax credit, and would have a net-zero impact on the financials of the small business. I brought this to the notice of the person who posted it – let’s call her SCL.

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To SCL’s credit, she didn’t block me, but launched into an explanation of how the subject of this post is not an exporter but is a contract manufacturer of products that are eventually exported. This is a direct contradiction of the post that suggests that this lady does direct business with foreign “suppliers”. SCL further explained that an increase in living costs necessitated an increase in wages, reducing this producer’s competitiveness, thus impacting their business.

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From SCL’s explanation, it’s clear that the subject’s woes are the result of multiple intersecting causes such as: a predatory market for handmade goods that exploits craftspeople – whether carpetmakers in Kashmir, silk weavers in Kancheepuram, or diamond polishers in Surat; a vulnerable supply chain that results in widely fluctuating input costs – especially those with an agricultural element such as wool, silk, timber, or coir; poor financial inclusion that drives artisans and small business to predatory money lenders in the informal credit sector; and a rapidly rising cost of living in urban centres driven by income inequality and gentrification.

Thus, while SCL’s post highlights a genuine tale of misfortune, it’s factually incorrect in attributing it to the Goods and Services Tax.

Now this post was not a stand-alone observation a-la “Humans of New York”. It was positioned in the light of a highly publicized political protest against an immigration law passed by the Government of India. With the Indian political sphere rapidly flooding with exaggerations and falsehoods, factfulness and coherence are critical to citizen reportage. In a time of increased vitriol, across the globe, the fences are heavy with sitters, and reasoned, factual accounts are critical to attracting thoughtful, high-commitment allies.

In her last message, SCL claims that her intention in making this post is to encourage “people to come to these protests and see what demands are being made, instead of relying [on the] mainstream media that paints a wrong picture”. While I do agree that evening Scream TV and unethical spin – particularly by the vernacular papers – are serious issues, SCL’s own post that centres on a factual inaccuracy is as damaging. As an empath and an artist, she’s certainly putting her heart and skills to support her cause, but the remedy of a murky media environment is NOT to muddy it further with factual inaccuracies.

Citizen reporters like SCL do indeed perform a powerful public service when the thoughtful are tuning out from the mainstream media. However they do need to ensure that facts, coherence, and context – the holy trinity of reporting – shine bright in their posts.

Original images excerpted from https://www.instagram.com/sadak.chhaap.ladki/ under “fair use” principles.

 

The Lament Of An Environmental Migrant

I arrived in Gurgaon on the 16th of March 2014 with two suitcases. In the nearly six years since, I’ve prospered in a new career, fallen in love with a lifelong Delhiite, gotten married, and become a father. I’ve developed friendships and connections that have enriched me intellectually and professionally. In five short years, my life has become inextricably entwined with Gurgaon. Despite living in three other cities during the past sixteen years, Gurgaon is where I have finally been able to sink roots and hang out a Home Sweet Home plate. It didn’t last long though – in January 2020, I tore up my nascent roots in Gurgaon and relocated to Hyderabad with my family.

In the months following my daughter Vivien’s birth in the summer of 2018, every attempt I made to stay in the moment with her was tainted by anxiety. I was continually aware that come September, the season’s pernicious mists would be upon us, wreaking unknown damage inside her tiny body. We got through her first winter with restrictions on going outdoors and the use of an air purifier – not ideal, and by no means adequate, but we were relieved that all her biological markers seemed on track and her doctor was pleased with her growth milestones.

Two days shy of her first birthday, Vivien got off her bed and crawled towards our living room as she always did after her morning nap. When half the way there, she got to her feet unsteadily and took her first steps without support – seventeen bold strides into the arms of her grandmother. She hasn’t stopped running since. She’s growing to be the outdoorsy type, spending several hours on our balcony and an hour and a half in the park each day. Like any other child her age, she loves the playground – the swings, slides, and rides that she’s barely old enough for, and it feels criminal to deprive her of these things. But there was her wheeze – the sharp hiss of her breath when she ran across the playground – it was hard to tell if it was merely panting, or something far more insidious.

The autumn-winter air quality problem in Northern India is a complex issue with multiple contributing factors: there’s the most discussed cause – stubble burning as farmers prepare their fields for the Rabi crop; altered wind patterns thanks to climate change; and comfort fires that homeless people or those who work outdoors light to stay warm. Within the National Capital Region, these factors are compounded by garbage burning – of which the Jindal Group’s Okhla-based garbage burning power plant is perhaps the largest perpetrator; emissions from the thousands of unauthorised industrial units that dot the region; and construction regulations deficient in provisions restricting the release of particulate matter. Barring climate change, all of these factors can be immediately countered with an integrated effort that has not been made thus far.

For four years, I have been a part of the circus around air quality in the Delhi area. The protests begin as a murmur in August, reach a crescendo in November, and diminish to a whimper by spring. It is my personal opinion that the Bharatiya Janta Party, which rose to power with a landslide electoral victory in 2014 and repeated a powerful performance in the 2019 elections, is holding back on decisive steps to curb pollution in its efforts to discredit and dislodge the Aam Aadmi Party which controls Delhi’s local government. The AAP has made some sincere efforts, but with the root cause spanning multiple states, their ability to do something truly transformational is limited. In Punjab, where a lot of stubble burning occurs, the Congress government wants to avoid antagonizing farmers in a desperate effort to hold on to one of the few states where it still holds power. In Haryana, the BJP Government is sitting tight to avoid upsetting the farmers that form its vote bank. The hapless citizens of northern India – farmers and urbanites alike – are mere cannon fodder in this pitched political battle.

While the rural population suffers in silent helplessness, the urban knowledgeable have been desensitized to the issue. Some were actually overjoyed when the AQI stayed within the 400s over the Diwali Holiday – forgetting that anything over 50 is bad, and 400 is “Hazardous”. Also, barring those with existing respiratory problems, people who don’t have extraordinary demands from their bodies do not understand how this pollution is affecting them. As a recreational runner and former martial artist, I am acutely aware that my body is not functioning optimally. While running in Gurgaon during winter months, I’d be lucky to go 4 kilometres at an even pace – in comparison, in February 2019, I ran 10 kilometres across the Ashwe and Morji beaches in Goa, barely breaking a sweat. For three years, I’ve been suffering a mild chest congestion that waxes and wanes with shifts in air quality. Extreme exertion such as sprint training causes me to cough up globs of green phlegm. For four years, I’ve been indifferent to this, but I cannot afford to any longer.

Like most crises in India, the pollution problem is characterized by staggering intersectionality. Most of the people who are concerned about it are those who can afford the tools to protect themselves to some measure, or like us, to move away. Those most vulnerable can only afford to look up at the drab sky and dive back into the struggle of making it to the next day. Unfortunately though, those who are vocal about the pollution crisis are the minority. As we have seen in the past six years of the current government, rhetoric, symbols, and gestures are prioritized over actual performance, and any minority, however vocal with its grievance, is ignored. Except for arming ministry offices with air purifiers, the central government has done nothing to acknowledge this terrible crisis, and there is no sign of a credible movement to protest the slow poisoning of the region’s residents.

The economic impact of this is catching up. During September 2016, I accompanied a friend seeking to buy a home in Defence Colony – one of the nicer Central Delhi neighbourhoods. The going rate at that time was INR 100 million (about USD 1.4 million) for a three-bedroom unit in a modern building. Today, a similar property can be had for about INR 60 million (USD 0.85 million). A local estate agent recently told me that the previously high prices were driven by rental potential as the neighbourhood was popular with foreign workers – particularly those working at embassies and UN agencies. Apparently, since Delhi’s pollution situation has become common knowledge, most embassies and international agencies have cut local staff and some even prohibit officers with young children from taking up a Delhi posting. This shift is having a devastating effect on the local economy. Foreign workers typically employed highly experienced domestic staff – chauffeurs, housekeepers, cooks, and nannies – and paid high wages commensurate with skills, experience, and personality. These professionals are now finding it harder to find work, often taking up roles with far lesser pay and poorer working conditions just to meet their expenses. Now that the rental demand from foreign workers has been taken off the table, rents have plunged, and many long-time property owners have sold their homes and moved – often to places where their children live. The aforementioned estate agent claimed that about two dozen of his long-time clients have sold and moved to Goa, Canada, Australia, the USA, and the UK. I may have been prescient when I ran the numbers in a 2018 article and made a business case for wealthy Delhi residents to migrate.

This exodus is sure to gather momentum – I know of many local families with young children who have plans to relocate. While the pollution is a key reason, other motivations are the higher cost of living; and an absurdly competitive educational system, with admission to some elementary schools requiring bribes of over INR 1 million (USD 14,000). Our former housekeeper just told us that several of the flats in the gated community we lived in are empty. The former occupants – all DINKs or families with younger children have left for other cities.

With Hyderabad and Bangalore already known for their tech-friendly business environment, many companies will look to these cities to expand their footprint. Friends and acquaintances who are recruiting for both larger companies and startups have spoken about high-skill, high pay workers – earning INR 5,000,000 (USD 70,000) and above – being reluctant to move to Delhi. In atleast two cases, this resulted in these positions being created in another city – one in Bangalore, and one in Bombay – to accommodate the right candidate. In the longer term, Gurgaon may lose out to the benefits of any growth if the current government’s economic ambitions do eventually materialize. For instance, Deloitte employs over 40,000 people in Hyderabad and plans to double its headcount in the city by 2022; Google’s new campus in Hyderabad can accommodate 13,000 workers; Amazon’s Hyderabad office has a capacity of 15,000. All these jobs are middle and high income jobs, and will infuse liquidity into the local economy and drive tax revenue. With the current pollution situation and highly publicised law and order problems, will Gurgaon ever see these numbers? Will Noida? The governments too are certainly feeling the pinch. Gurgaon, for instance, recently raised levies for property transfers in the upmarket wards of the city.

It’s been an agonizing decision for us to take. Varsha, my wife, is anxious about leaving her parents and it breaks her heart to leave the city of her birth. Vivien is much adored by her maternal grandparents, who frequently drove a 150 km round trip just to have lunch with her. Varsha has a large extended family in the Delhi area, whose company we enjoy at festivals and family events. I’ve enjoyed their warmth and affection from the day I was introduced to them as Varsha’s fiancé. It deeply saddens both of us take Vivien away from her loving uncles, aunts, and cousins – a diverse bunch of artists, activists, entrepreneurs, professionals, and civil servants – role models whose presence would surely influence her future happiness and success.

Through all this anger and sadness, we are aware of and grateful for our privilege. This wouldn’t be possible without the financial resources and social connections that afford us the career risks that Varsha and I are taking with this move. Our hearts break for the families tied to Delhi by circumstances, filial duty, or the compulsions of a livelihood. We yearn for a day when the political will to improve Delhi’s air will emerge and manifest, and we will bring Vivien back home.

The Yiddish Policemen’s Union by Michael Chabon

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In the 1940s, the US Government approves a proposal to establish a settlement for European Refugees at Sitka – a seaside town in Alaska. These refugees, largely Jews fleeing the holocaust, establish a culturally and economically thriving settlement. In this fictional narrative, the state of Israel lasts but a few months in 1948 before it is overrun by Arab forces and destroyed completely. Thus Sitka becomes the focal point of Jewry, with members of various denominations packed tightly into that tiny town. Sixty years later, this territory is set to be handed back to the State of Alaska, throwing life in the frigid shtetl back in flux. 

Meyer Landsman, a highly respected homicide detective is at rock bottom due to his failed marriage and consequent alcoholism. With two months to go before the Sitka Police Department is either integrated into the Alaskan administration or disbanded altogether, Landsman’s life gets more complicated when he begins to investigate the shooting death of his neighbour – a heroin-addicted chess prodigy.

What ensues is a thrilling ride through the Alaskan shtetl – two murder mysteries entwined with a sinister global plot featuring eccentric chess players, Chassidic gangsters, and diabolical government agents.

Within the first three pages, The Yiddish Policemen’s Union rises miles above mere pulp fiction as a masterpiece that can be enjoyed at multiple levels. The book does well as a thrilling whodunit with a well-woven plot, sufficiently justifying the time you take with it. The more discerning reader has deeper themes to enjoy. Chabon has made up an intuitive Yiddish slang to correspond with life in the Film Noir shtetl. Common Yiddish terms appear matter-of-factly through the text, and the alternative meaning clicks in place effortlessly – instances are “sholem” for firearm and “latke” for patrolman. Yiddish phrases such as “A shvortz yor” and “Er zol kakn mit blit un mit ayter” appear in their English approximations throughout the book – a sort of a secret handshake to readers with exposure to the mame loshen.

Beyond the linguistic theme, there is the deeper exploration of Jewish identity. Landsman’s colleague and cousin – Berko Shemets – is the son of a Jewish father and a Tlingit mother. The implicit question of Berko’s Jewishness takes the reader on a tumultuous and thought provoking ride through his personal history; his view of his father; the Jewish-Tlingit conflict in the early days of Sitka; and the varied cultural interpretations of “Who is a Jew?”  

Without weighing down the plot or flow, Chabon effortlessly integrates a succinct narration of the exhausting rigours of Chassidic observances and Judaism’s heretofore unfulfilled hopes of a messiah. There is also a riveting account of politics and power play within a Chassidic clan.

In short, Michael Chabon has crafted a pulp masterpiece that is entertaining, tragic, funny, and educational. There’s the ever-present spark of an indefatigable hope in a time of intense bewilderment. At the end of this book, whoever you are, you’ll empathize deeply with its characters and feel a little Jewish.

Book Review: Leila By Prayaag Akbar

[no spoliers]

This is a review of the Book by Prayaag Akbar, and NOT the Netflix series.

Leila is set in the not too distant future, when the social fracturing and economic inequality in Indian society leads to a nation divided into cloisters based on linguistic and caste identity. A grassroots leader who claims to be representing the interests of the socially disadvantaged vaults into power at the head of a sweeping political movement. A brutish army of “repeaters” – a epithet earned by their tendency to chant slogans and parade – enforces the movement’s moral and social standards. The nation is in decline, clean air, potable water, and security are at a premium. Climate change and crumbling urban infrastructure make life a challenge for all but the most privileged.

Shalini, the protagonist, grows up in a prosperous household that sees its fortunes decline as the traditional structures of privilege are eroded by rising economic inequality, social fracturing, and climate change. She marries her high school sweetheart – a Muslim – and together, they move to a neighbourhood where cosmopolitan intercultural couples like them lead a life that seems insulated from the turmoil outside.

On the evening of a party hosted by them, a group of repeaters attack their home, kill her husband, and send Shalini to a re-education camp. Their daughter goes missing. The novel, set sixteen years from the party, follows Shalini’s efforts to locate her child with the back-story revealed in non-linear flashbacks.

As the father of an intercultural child and someone who is concerned about inequality and climate change, this novel fuelled my private anxieties about India’s future. Akbar has concocted a compelling tale that could be considered the average-case outcome of current-day events. This novel is a thought-provoking read for anyone who is unsure about the long-term outcome of our direction as a nation.

As a novel though, Leila is a bit rough at the edges. It feels as if Akbar wrote this book in the last three weeks of a twelve-month deadline and sent his second draft to press. Given the complexity of the themes in this book, Akbar had a choice to make this book about a quest, a tale of personal misfortune, or a social commentary. He tries to do all three, and ends up with a hodgepodge that is part Die Hard, part Animal Farm, and part Nineteen Eighty Four. Two thirds into the book, a weak plot twist breaks the suspense and the ending is totally predictable.

Regardless of its technical deficiencies, Leila remains a compelling read and an important commentary on inequality, class, and climate change in the Indian context.

Rapawalk: Good Shoes At a Good Price

A couple of months ago, I noticed my Facebook and Instagram feeds flooded with adverts for an online footwear company called Rapawalk. Looking to buy a very specific pair for an event, against the the wise counsel of my wife, I sent for a pair of their shoes. The first pair that I received was a disappointment, with poor workmanship and no finishing at all. I covered the experience in another blog post that caught the eye of the founders.

Jacob from Rapawalk reached out shortly after the article went live, and promised to look into the issue for me.

A couple of days later, he called back and told me that the poorly constructed pair I recieved was shipped as a consequence of a QC failure at their factory. Jacob stated that the shoes I had chosen came from a budget range that was manufactured by a third-party supplier and that’s where the problems had occurred. He offered a store credit for the value of the shoes, and requested me to order a pair from his premium range that is manufactured in-house. Having already had a poor experience with the first pair, I was a little hesitant to throw good money after the bad – but with Jacob’s persistent follow-ups, I relented, and sprang for cocoa and caramel brogue-style derbys with a “half leather” sole.

The shoes arrived fifteen days later,  and were a pleasant surprise.

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The complaints that I had about the finishing in my earlier pair were non-existent in this one. Over the past few weeks, I have worn these shoes in rotation with my other pairs, and have not had any issues with fit or finish.

One key advantage with these shoes is the “Wide” option for fit. With store-bought shoes from Hush Puppies and Ruosh, it often takes three or so months for a pair of shoes to stretch into a comfortable fit for my feet. However, Rapawalk’s “Wide” option gives those few extra millimeters that make all the difference. These shoes were snug and comfortable from the get go, and needed just a week or so of “breaking in” to give me a comfortable fit. The “half leather” sole is comfortable and durable, and works for me even on the polished floors of airports, offices, and metro stations.

In the weeks since, I have also bought a pair of suede boat moccasins from Rapawalk that I’m very pleased with.

In summary, Rapawak makes good shoes at a great price. The pair pictured above is comparable in material and finish to shoes by Ruosh and Hush Puppies that are 50 per cent pricier. The boat moccasins too, are comparable in material and finish to options from Bata, Hush Puppies, and Clarks that are 30% to 100 per cent pricier. The online shoe design system that they have is intuitive and user friendly – the only real hurdle being the way colours are rendered on individual monitors and phones. So unless you’re looking for a perfect colour match (impossible in natural leather IMO) this is a great way to go.

The best part for me, of course, is the attentive customer service. For instance, when a lace on my INR 6,000+ Hush Puppies snapped some time ago, three Bata/Hush Puppies stores in Gurgaon, one in Noida, and one in Greater Noida were unable to sell me a replacement, and the staff couldn’t care less. I’ve been to just one Ruosh store here in Gurgaon, so I won’t comment on their service. Rapawalk, however, followed up persistently by phone and Whatsapp to get this issue resolved, adding a human touch to the online experience that tends to be sterile and impersonal.

Disclosures: This review is based on my personal experience. I have not received any inducements in cash or kind for this review. 

Oh Shut Up, Katie Porter

A video of US Representative Katherine “Katie” Porter questioning JP Morgan CEO Jamie Dimon has gone viral on Facebook. In this video, Porter speaks of a hypothetical JP Morgan employee (whom we’ll call Plausible Patricia) working an entry level position at an Irvine, California branch, who ends up with a monthly deficit of USD 567 because she’s apparently not paid enough to meet her expenses. Porter spins the teary yarn of a single mother of a six year old who still co-sleeps in a one-bedroom apartment and drives a 11-year old minivan.

Attempting a defence, Dimon indicates that the job in question is an entry-level position that requires merely a high school diploma to qualify. The point is lost on Porter, who furthers her rhetorical attack on Dimon, who by now has decided to mutter stock responses while the Representative lets off some steam. Hopefully, the committee eventually resumed its business – which is discussing high-level policy issues related to the banking and financial services sector.

While the Social Democratic novitiates on Facebook are cheering Porter’s assault as a brave confrontation of an economic villain, those inclined to take a more reasoned view of this absurd spectacle would rapidly realise that this is merely a stunt to impress dim-witted idealists.

The wage that Porter mentioned was USD 16.50 an hour. For starters, this 37 per cent higher than the USD 12 minimum wage for California that came into effect on 1 January 2019. Furthermore, this tirade suggests that JP Morgan is responsible for Plausible Patricia’s personal outcomes rather than her self and her community.

How can JP Morgan be to blame? It is a for-profit corporation that operates in a free market, and is subject to competition from other players. As a former JP Morgan employee myself, I know for a fact that the bank pays fair wages that are consistent with market standards, and also has a substantial performance-linked component which Porter may have omitted from her wage calculation. Dimon is right that Plausible Patricia may someday have his job. Former colleagues who joined JP Morgan at entry level roles about a decade ago have risen to Vice Presidents and above, and have even moved countries as they advanced in their careers.

Alright, let’s assume that JP Morgan paid all entry level roles a minimum of USD 50,000 a year. Concurrent adjustments in salaries across the hierarchy will result in billions of dollars in additional wage expenses. Where do you think this money will come from? Interest rates and bank fees will have to rise, lowering access to credit, and making homes, cars, and flat-screen TVs dearer for all US residents.

Another common criticism that I’m seeing in these comments is the wage difference between Dimon and Plausible Patricia. Critics are sorely mistaken on two points here:

First the fact that Jamie Dimon received USD 31 million in salary doesn’t mean that he had it made. His earnings for 2018 comprised a base component of USD 1.5 million, which is quite reasonable for a person in his position, and USD 29.5 million in performance pay – a sum derived from a complex formula that takes into account JP Morgan’s financial performance, share price, capital ratios, and industry standing. Furthermore, this pay is liable to “clawback” if the bank misses long-term performance goals, fails an audit, or loses a pretty packet due to something like l’affaire London Whale. Second – comparing pay for an entry level position to that of a CEO responsible for 250,000 employees and the interests of thousands of shareholders is asinine.

Porter conveniently ignores the fact that the wider issues related to living costs – housing, food, and transportation expenses for instance – are usually a product of government policy. She should actually be asking her colleagues in the California delegation why housing is so expensive and why public transportation is deficient. Also, during the course of her apparently well-researched example, why did Porter not deduct taxes due? This would have pushed Plausible Patricia over $650 in the red each month. Patricia’s home state of California has the highest State Income Taxes in the USA.

Ultimately, Plausible Patricia needs to take personal responsibility for her life. Yes, the odds are often stacked against people based on gender, race, disability, etc, but intent and tenacity are the greatest factors in life outcomes. If Plausible Patricia is indeed a real person, she needs to take a long hard look at her life and decide how she must bring more value to the table to deserve a higher wage.

Review: Bombay Shaving Company

I have been using a straight razor with replaceable blades for the past 18 years. It started during my college days as a private protest against the ludicrous price of Gillette Sensor blades. The habit endured – with my horsehair brush and a straight razor, I could go from Weekend Stubble to Monday Debonair in under four minutes. The added bonus was that a year’s supply of Wilkinson Sword blades cost me less than a single Gilette Sensor cartridge. As I grew older and became a little more plastic conscious, I stuck with the open razor because a tiny sliver of steel every two weeks casts a lesser ecological burden than the blister-packed cartridge-du-jour with six (or whatever they’re up to now) blades in a plastic housing.

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My Old Straight Razor

This Christmas, I received Bombay Shaving Company’s six-part shaving kit as a present. Now I’m usually skeptical of these internet-only brands that “reinvent” the classics for 10 times the price. After all, my straight razors cost between INR 40 and INR 120, and the Wilkinson Sword blades cost about INR 15 for a packet of 5. The tubes of shaving cream and after-shave balm included in the box were fancier than my usual Old Spice shaving cream and after shave lotion.

In the box were two 10-packs of Feather razor blades. Feather blades, made in Japan, are widely regarded as the best wet-shaving blades in the world, and BSC now had my full attention. The included razor is a solid metal item, very well constructed, and impeccably balanced. Also included, is a faux badger brush. I’ve always been skeptical of these nylon shaving brushes, but BSC’s brush does the job and does it well. Goodbye horsehair.

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My new Bombay Shaving Company kit minus the gimmicky scrub

For many men, the morning shave is a meditative and mindful rite of self-care. BSC’s kit certainly supports this. Having been my daily shaver for the past ten days, I’ve enjoyed the experience with the brush and the razor, and the insanely sharp Feather blades make for a very comfortable shave. BSC includes a second razor head – marked “aggressive”. This piece, visually indistinguishable from the regular head barring the letter “A” marked on it, makes the blade cut closer to the skin. This seems to work best for my mature and somewhat rough growth.

The included shaving cream and after-shave balm are good, and have a pleasant modern fragrance. My wife seems relieved that I’m transitioning away from alcohol-based after-shave lotions and the consequent “white face” dryness that she finds unappealing.

With shaving products, re-supply of consumables is always a challenge, especially if you use uncommon products. BSC is cognizant of this, and all the in-box items – razor, brush, accessories, Feather blades, and in-house cream and balm, are available at competitive prices from the Company’s website.

BSC is not without gimmicks though. They include a scrub – touted as a pre-shave exfoliant to prepare one’s face before a shave. Well, a razor blade is perhaps the most effective exfoliant on the planet. As long as you use a proper shaving cream, you will be taking all the dirt and dead skin off your face with your razor itself. But again, this is more a matter of personal preference than shaving canon.

The only area for improvement is the fragrances. Bombay Shaving Company offers only one fragrance – a contemporary fragrance that will not appeal to all men. In my opinion, the fragrance in the after-shave balm is pleasant, but lacks depth and complexity. They need to diversify their range with at least two additional fragrance types – a ‘spicy’ type  with a musky/woody base such as Tabac or Old Spice; and a citrusy classic eau-de-cologne variety similar to 4711 or Premium. These two fragrance lines will drive customer “stickiness” among a major proportion of wet shavers – else most “converts” like me will return to them only for the Feather blades.

In my opinion, BSC makes the nicest shaving kit that I’ve encountered in ages, and is a must buy for the man looking to drop the hideously expensive and gimmicky multi-blade systems.

Note: This is a review of a kit that I received as a Christmas present from a family member. Bombay Shaving Company has not offered me any incentives for this review.