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URL: http://www.nytimes.com SUBJECT: CELEBRITIES (89%); CULTS & SECTS (78%); HINDUS & HINDUISM (78%); ENTREPRENEURSHIP (74%); DISEASES & DISORDERS (71%); TEACHING & TEACHERS (61%); COLLEGES & UNIVERSITIES (60%); DEATHS & OBITUARIES (78%) GEOGRAPHIC: ALBANY, NY, USA (79%) IOWA, USA (79%); NEW YORK, USA (79%) UNITED STATES (92%); EUROPE (88%); NETHERLANDS (90%) CATEGORY: Medicine and Health PERSON: Maharishi Mahesh Yogi LOAD-DATE: February 6, 2008 LANGUAGE: ENGLISH CORRECTION-DATE: February 15, 2008 CORRECTION: An obituary on Feb. 6 about Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, who introduced transcendental meditation to the West and gained fame as the spiritual guru to the Beatles, described incorrectly those who may bear the title of Maharishi, Hindi for ''great seer,'' and misstated his own eligibility for it. The title may be bestowed on people of any caste, not only Brahmins. He was not ineligible because he was from a lower caste. GRAPHIC: PHOTOS: The Maharishi in 2006 during a video news conference from his headquarters in the Netherlands, where he moved in 1990. An Indian guru who taught the West a form of meditation. (PHOTOGRAPH BY HERMAN WOUTERS FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES) The Beatles joined the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, center, in 1967 for a weekend of meditation. (PHOTOGRAPH BY ASSOCIATED PRESS) DOCUMENT-TYPE: Obituary (Obit); Biography PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company 1101 of 1231 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Late Edition - Final India's School Shortage Means Glut of Parental Stress BYLINE: By SOMINI SENGUPTA SECTION: Section A; Column 0; Foreign Desk; Pg. 3 LENGTH: 1221 words DATELINE: NEW DELHI They offer prayers. They set aside bribe money. Their nights are restless. This is the winter of disquiet for parents of small children in India, especially here in its prospering, fast-growing capital, where the demands of ambition and demography collide with a shortage of desirable schools. This year, admissions for prekindergarten seats in Delhi begin for children as young as 3, and what school they get into now is widely felt to make or break their educational fate. And so it was that a businessman, having applied to 15 private schools for his 4-year-old son, rushed to the gates of a prestigious South Delhi academy one morning last week to see if his child's name had been shortlisted for admissions. Alas, it had not, and walking back to his car, the fretful father wondered if it would not be better for Indian couples to have a child only after being assured a seat in school. ''You have a kid and you don't have a school to send your kid to!'' he cried. ''It's crazy. You can't sleep at night.'' In a measure of his anxiety, the father, 36, who runs his own company, refused to divulge his full name for fear of jeopardizing his son's chances of getting into a good school. He reluctantly agreed to be identified by his first name, Amit. The anxiety over school admissions is a parable of desire and frustration in a country with the largest concentration of young people in the world. About 40 percent of India's 1.1 billion citizens are younger than 18; many others are parents in their 20s and 30s, with young school-age children. Today, for all but the very poor, government schools are not an option because they are considered weak, and the competition for choice private schools is fierce. The scramble is part of the great Indian education rush, playing out across the country and across the socioeconomic spectrum. The striving classes are spending hefty amounts or taking loans to send their children to private schools. In some cases, children from small towns are commuting more than 40 miles every day to good, or at least sought-after, schools. New private schools are sprouting, as industrialists, real estate developers and even a handful of foreign companies eye the Indian education market. That market is a lot like other things in India. Supply lags far behind demand as cities grow, pocketbooks swell and parents who themselves may have struggled in their childhoods want something better for their offspring. The father named Amit acknowledged the cravings of his social class this way: ''Branding has really taken over. Everyone is looking at what car you're driving, what clothes you're wearing, where your child is going to school.'' A retired civil servant, Vir Singh, 68, recognized this shift in his own family. One of his sons attended government school and moved to the United States to work as an engineer. Another attended a decent private school here in Delhi and went on to work for a multinational company, but today refuses to send his daughter to his own alma mater. Mr. Singh said that son wanted his child to attend none but the city's best. ''Now they want more high-fly schools,'' is how he put it. ''It's a changed society.'' One morning, in search of a ''high fly'' school, Mr. Singh arrived at a branch of the coveted Delhi Public School here -- as in Britain, ''public'' means private -- to see if his granddaughter's name had appeared on the admissions shortlist. No such luck. Mr. Singh grumbled about the school's criteria for shortlisting; he was appalled that the child of a single parent was getting preference. ''You want the parents to split up?'' he asked incredulously. The admissions process has never been easy in elite Indian schools. Once, private school admissions were based on an opaque mix of connections, money and preferences for certain kinds of families for certain kinds of schools. Today, as a result of litigation, court-mandated rules in Delhi have been devised to make the process fairer and more transparent, at least on paper. Schools are allowed to set their own admissions criteria, but those must be made clear to parents and followed consistently. Many schools this year have created a point system that rewards girls, students with older siblings in the same school, children of alumni and, to encourage neighborhood schooling, those who live nearby. Over the past few weeks, it was hard to find parents who were not complaining about the new rules. Sridhar and Noopur Kannan, seeking admission to the Delhi Public School for their 4-year-old son, found it absurd that girls were being rewarded, even as they counted their one enviable blessing: Mr. Kannan was an alumnus of the school, and a member of the screening committee remembered him as a good student. Rumana Akhtar's alma mater, where her daughter would have had an edge, was impractical because it was far across town from where she lives. Alok Aggarwal's efforts to ply his connections had done nothing to secure a seat for his 4-year-old son. Ashok Gupta rued his own lack of connections, but had set aside more than $2,500 in case a ''donation'' would open doors. Many parents said that despite the new criteria, some schools continued to make exceptions in exchange for contributions to school funds. The pressures can be felt on the other side of the door as well. This year, Suman Nath, principal of Tagore International School, in a crowded middle-class neighborhood, received 2,014 applications for 112 prekindergarten seats. The other day, she said, a tailor who stitches clothes for her family came to appeal on behalf of her child. Government ministers called to lobby on behalf of certain children. A director at another school recalled receiving a phone call from the electricity board, threatening to cut off her school's power if a certain child was not admitted. The one change that many parents and school administrators have welcomed is that children are no longer subjected to interviews for admissions. At least now, Mrs. Nath said, ''children aren't experiencing rejection.'' That brought little comfort last Friday afternoon, when Tagore International posted its list of children selected for admission. Parents elbowed their way through a thick crowd to have a look at the list. Most came away looking bereft. ''They need to open a new school for children who haven't gotten in anywhere,'' said Sarika Chetwani, 28, who had applied unsuccessfully to 12 schools for her 4-year-old daughter. ''I'm totally messed up. I don't know what to do next.'' Shailaja Sharma, 26, said her only hope was to find an influential someone to ply another influential someone with money. Mandira Dev Sengupta, carrying her 3-year-old-son son, Rio, in her arms, bit her lip and fought back tears. After 17 applications, Rio had been admitted to only one school, and it was not one that she particularly liked. This week, even before the nursery school race was over, another race had begun. Twelfth graders across India braced for final examinations, which determine whether students will get coveted university seats, and where. On Monday, The Hindustan Times published tips for parents of exam takers. ''Do not nag your child,'' was one. ''Remember, he is not a machine that can study for four to five hours at a stretch,'' was another.
Parents crowd around the list of children accepted to Tagore International School. The school, in New Delhi, received 2,014 applications for 112 prekindergarten seats. Children occupy coveted seats at the private Tagore Preparatory School in New Delhi. Except for the very poor, government schools are not considered an option.(PHOTOGRAPHS BY TOMAS MUNITA FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES)
Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company 1102 of 1231 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Late Edition - Final Paid Notice: Deaths ROMIGUIERE, ANNALEE KIERNAN CUTRONE, ''LEE'' SECTION: Section C; Column 0; Classified; Pg. 11 LENGTH: 419 words ROMIGUIERE--Annalee Kiernan Cutrone, ''Lee'', traded the catwalks of Paris for a diner under the viaduct on 125th street. Afterall she was born and raised on the Upper Westside, the eldest of nine, daughter to Bertha and Peter, a NYC fireman. Her glamorous escape to the city-of-light merely set the scene for her homecoming and marriage to a streetwise local boy. A ''creature des reves,'' to debonair Frenchmen, Annalee Cutrone became a familiar face in the neighborhood as both a mother and entrepreneur. When she wasn't volunteering at Columbia Greenhouse Nursery, the April 1962 Playboy covergirl could be found slinging hash at her 125th St. Diner, or up the block pouring a stiff drink at her bar the 712. When a small, below street level location at the corner of Amsterdam and 116th opened up, Annalee's The Restaurant moved in. Across from the Columbia gates, Annalee's was a crossroads where students could afford to dine with the likes of Edward Said and Zbigniew Brzezinski to name a few. Annalee herself was a true neighborhood personality; not the sort broadcast indiscriminately and everywhere, but one who is well known to you if you happened to have been there. Any passerby seeing such a classic beauty stepping out of the AMC Pacer she won in a Fuji Photo contest had in their memory an unforgetable snapshot. We shall always remember Annalee moving blithely among us, an ethereal blonde with a delicate toeto-heel gait, gliding, it seemed, a feather's breath off the ground. Her soothing voice and blue-eyed gaze touched with a loving caress, so tangible were the affections she held in her heart. Indeed, Annalee was the very personification of the gentlest love to the families Agnez, Attardo, Cutrone, Dajani, Drelich, Duff, Kiernan, Romiguiere and Sadlon, and to her dear friends Madeleine, Ingrid, Joyce and Rosemarie. She leaves behind a husband and an ex-husband both devoted to her and remaining steadfastly by her side until her passing in Connecticut where the family used to spend their summers. Her daughterOona and her son Don were also her neighbors, as adoring of her as her grandsons Drew and Shane. Annalee, a woman of pure grace, always seemed a diamond in the rough where the rough, in her mind, could glisten just as brightly as the streetlamps along the Champs-Elysses. And so she passed kissing her husband with a last breath while he sang the same Estonian lullaby her mother used to sing while rocking infant Annalee to sleep. Remember Annalee as you will, and always. URL: http://www.nytimes.com SUBJECT: RESTAURANTS (78%); DEATHS & OBITUARIES (78%); MARRIAGE (76%); FAMILY (76%) GEOGRAPHIC: PARIS, FRANCE (90%); NEW YORK, NY, USA (90%) NEW YORK, USA (90%); CONNECTICUT, USA (51%) FRANCE (90%); UNITED STATES (90%) LOAD-DATE: February 6, 2008 LANGUAGE: ENGLISH DOCUMENT-TYPE: Paid Death Notice PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company 1103 of 1231 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Late Edition - Final Calendar BYLINE: By FLORENCE FABRICANT SECTION: Section F; Column 0; Dining, Dining Out/Cultural Desk; Pg. 5 LENGTH: 234 words Salmon on the Syllabus A class on various kinds of salmon, including a tasting, will be held tomorrow from 6:30 to 8 p.m. at Starwich, 525 West 42nd Street. There is no charge but reservations are required: (212) 462-2310. Dip Into Dumplings Children and adults can make their own pork, chicken and vegetarian dumplings, and then indulge in their handiwork on Sunday from 1 to 2:30 p.m. or 3 to 4:30 p.m. at the China Institute, 125 East 65th Street. The family workshop is $35 for a child and an adult who are institute members, $40 for nonmembers and $15 for additional participants: (212) 744-8181, extension 118, or www.chinainstitute.org. Every Bite Counts The Mermaid Inn restaurants, 96 Second Avenue (Fifth Street), (212) 674-5870, and 568 Amsterdam Avenue (88th Street), (212) 799-7400, will donate 5 percent of total sales on Sundays to Kiva, a group that lends money to entrepreneurs in low-development countries. Charitable Edibles A tasting benefit for the Careers Through Culinary Arts Program, which helps high school students nationwide who want to go into the restaurant and hospitality business, will be held Feb. 27 from 6 to 9 p.m. at Pier 60, 23rd Street and the Hudson River. More than three dozen restaurants will participate. The event will honor Alfred Portale. Tickets are $600 and $1,000; general admission, after 6:30 p.m., is $450: (212) 974-7111 or www.ccapinc.org. URL: http://www.nytimes.com SUBJECT: CURRICULA (90%); CHILDREN (77%); HOSPITALITY INDUSTRY (73%); STUDENTS & STUDENT LIFE (72%); ENTREPRENEURSHIP (67%); MEAT FREE DIETS (76%) COMPANY: 2ND AVENUE DESIGN (55%); CNINSURE INC (71%) TICKER: CISG (NASDAQ) (71%) LOAD-DATE: February 6, 2008 LANGUAGE: ENGLISH GRAPHIC: PHOTO (PHOTOGRAPH BY CHRISTIE JOHNSTON FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES) DOCUMENT-TYPE: Schedule PUBLICATION-TYPE: Newspaper Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company 1104 of 1231 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Late Edition - Final The Art Of Giving A Bear Hug BYLINE: By ANDREW ROSS SORKIN. The latest news on mergers and acquisitions can be found at nytimes.com/dealbook. SECTION: Section C; Column 0; Business/Financial Desk; DEALBOOK; Pg. 1 LENGTH: 902 words Steven Ballmer was laying it on thick. He was explaining ever so politely how Yahoo and Microsoft, the company he runs, would make a beautiful marriage. ''Together we can unleash new levels of innovation, delivering enhanced user experiences, breakthroughs in search, and new advertising platform capabilities,'' Mr. Ballmer wrote to Jerry Yang of Yahoo and his board last week. ''We hope that you and your board share our enthusiasm.'' As if.
This was no love letter. Mr. Ballmer was following a storied tradition on Wall Street: the bear hug letter. Before mounting a hostile bid and going in for the kill, suitors send a bear hug -- named for a popular wrestling maneuver -- to their targets. One part Emily Post and two parts Machiavelli, these oh-so-cordial notes are sent by unwanted suitors in an attempt to broker a peaceful deal. But they always carry an implicit threat: Rebuff this advance and you're in for a fight. Of course, less than 24 hours after sending the letter to Yahoo, Microsoft made it public, just in case there was any confusion that it was a private correspondence among old friends. (At least Mr. Ballmer was kind enough to give Mr. Yang a courtesy call before going public with his $44.6 billion bid.) Some bear hug letters are kept from public view and are sent in confidence, in hopes of bringing a company to the negotiating table. Those are known as teddy bear hugs. But others, like Mr. Ballmer's, are written for public consumption. Those are known -- less politely -- as grizzly bear hugs. It's all a lot of high-priced theater. Companies might as well take out ads in the papers with the headline, ''Fair Warning: We've Just Put a Price on Your Head.'' This unusual letter-writing practice dates back to the early 1980s. Bruce Wasserstein, Lazard's chairman and a longtime player in the mergers game, tracks the practice back to 1982, when Boone Pickens sent a bear hug letter to Cities Service, a small oil company. Mr. Pickens made ''an offer directly to Cities' C.E.O. and announced it to the world,'' Mr. Wasserstein wrote in his book ''Big Deal.'' ''The likelihood of that happening was slim. However, that wasn't the point. Pickens just wanted to build pressure on Cities' incumbent managers and board of directors.'' Mr. Ballmer is taking a similar tough-guy approach. Mr. Ballmer, who famously threw a chair across a room when he learned one of his lieutenants had taken a job at Google and uses four-letter words as often as most people breathe, is hardly a warm and fuzzy bear. His bear hug letter wasn't written for Yahoo's board -- it was written for Yahoo's shareholders and the investing public. Like a big, burly bear, Mr. Ballmer is squeezing Yahoo. In the most courteous way possible, Mr. Ballmer reminded Yahoo's board -- and at the same time conveniently disclosed to the public -- that Microsoft had tried to buy Yahoo last year when Yahoo's stock price was much higher. He then explained -- politely -- that Yahoo had rejected that overture based on its argument of ''the potential upside'' of a ''reformulated strategy based on certain operational initiatives.'' Of course, he added, ''a year has gone by, and the competitive situation has not improved'' -- a very nice way of saying that Yahoo's management had failed spectacularly. Mr. Ballmer's letter -- which, let's be fair, was written by an army of bankers and lawyers -- is vaguely reminiscent of dozens of other bear hug letters, many of which share the same language and tone. Comcast tried to push around AT&T before buying AT&T Broadband six years ago. It didn't exactly ingratiate itself with AT&T's board, because it too immediately released its bear hug letter to the public. Rationalizing its loose lips, the company said: ''In light of the significance of this proposal to both your shareholders and ours, we are publicly releasing the text of this letter.'' Microsoft, too, did its own dance about going public with its letter, explaining, somewhat curiously, that it was taking the step to avoid ''the potential for selective disclosures.'' (As if.) Not all bear hug letters are disingenuous, as illustrated by Louis Gerstner, who wooed Lotus by mail when he was chief executive of I.B.M. ''We respect the creative environment and entrepreneurial spirit you have fostered at Lotus,'' Mr. Gerstner wrote to Lotus in 1995. ''We do not want to change that. We believe Lotus's employees are among the best in the industry at developing innovative and successful products.'' Once the deal was done, I.B.M. actually integrated Lotus well and kept its word about respecting the creative environment. It was a poster boy for the teddy bear hug. On the other hand, Comcast quickly rid itself of many of AT&T Broadband's top employees. Some tough guys, of course, don't bother with hugs, bear or otherwise. Take Larry Ellison, the chief executive of Oracle. When he decided to buy PeopleSoft, he simply announced that he was starting a hostile bid. No letter to the board. No courtesy call to Craig Conway, the chief executive. Nothing. Mr. Ellison was spoiling for a fight. Not one to mince words -- and clearly a lover of bears and even dogs -- he later said: ''I think at one point Craig thought I was going to shoot his dog. I love animals. If Craig and the dog were standing next to each other, trust me -- I have one bullet -- it wouldn't be for the dog.''
Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company 1105 of 1231 DOCUMENTS The New York Times
Late Edition - Final A Young Generation, Eager to Tackle Problems SECTION: Section A; Column 0; Editorial Desk; LETTER; Pg. 22 LENGTH: 223 words To the Editor: Nicholas D. Kristof brings welcome attention to a generation solving crises, not just naming them (''The Age of Ambition,'' column, Jan. 27). They are a different crowd from my graying group of social entrepreneurs, whose personal and programmatic success was often hailed as a positive aberration. College students and colleges are changed fundamentally. Students are launching sustainable ventures -- some nonprofit, some for-profit, some hybrid -- that attack social problems (for example, creating products that offset global warming and introducing solutions to campus binge drinking). They are no longer on the margins of the curriculum: a handful of colleges and universities are equipping these passionate, optimistic, pragmatic networkers with tools that increase the odds of their work changing the world. Some, like Clark University, offer tracks in social entrepreneurship taught by established practitioners. This country and this world desperately need young entrepreneurs. It is our shared responsibility to engage, trumpet and support them so that their work is far from an aberration. Katya Fels Smyth Ashfield, Mass., Jan. 28, 2008 The writer is the founder of the Full Frame Initiative, an organization that helps marginalized communities garner the resources and services needed to thrive. Directory: ~hesterj -> Entrepreneur Entrepreneur -> Byline: By richard siklos section: Section C; Column 5; Business/Financial Desk; Pg. 1 Length Download 3.51 Mb. Share with your friends:
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