Thursday, November 27, 2008

On first name terms

So I took the train to Hyderabad after all and it was alright, though I think I’ll use the train only for shorter distances from now on. It would have been better if there had been fewer roaches crawling around. I’m sure this isn't the norm in the more expensive air conditioned compartments, but this wasn't one of the better super fast trains, just an express, so this sort of thing is probably to be expected. The young man sitting on the seat opposite me complained to the conductor about the roaches and received the response that this was a common problem in the air conditioned coaches. He was not too happy with the response – he said that the conductor could have said something that conveyed that he gave a damn, such as perhaps that he would let people in the yard (where trains are taken to get cleaned) or someone else know so they could better address the problem. He also said, ‘imagine if there are foreigners on this train, what will they think?’ I thought to myself, I could care less what anyone else thought, but I could tell him a bit of what I was thinking.

I exchanged email addresses with him. He was into computer graphics and animation – that’s what he did for a living. He only had a first name – no last name. I asked him how that worked, when he applied for official documents and such. He said that so far he had been able to get away with it and on the rare occasion when official type people insisted he needed to fill in his last name on a form, he split his only name into two. It seems he was named that way because his father did not want anyone to have an inkling about what caste they belonged to and so on and use that as the basis for discrimination (negative or otherwise). So to all those who deny that problems such as these exist in India (and of course they need to have their heads examined), it seems they are alive and kicking.

He also asked me where I lived, what I did and all the usual questions – and when I told him that I lived abroad (‘O’h so you are an NRI?’) and was thinking of living here for a while, he told me he would never leave India. He said that he had not even applied for a passport, even though his father had suggested he should on several occasions. He said he that he did not believe he could live as freely anywhere else as he could in India. Other than that elsewhere he would always be viewed as a foreigner, where else, he asked, could one freely throw garbage wherever one wanted or drive or ride a vehicle with a total disregard for any rules that existed, on any side of the road? I asked him if he thought that was a good thing – and he said it was total freedom – he hadn't thought about whether it was good or not. He then promptly proceeded to remove the plastic wrapper on the lid of the water bottle he had just bought and throw it on the floor. I asked him if he was just exercising his freedom and he retorted that well, it was not like there was anywhere else he could throw it, since the windows could not be opened in these compartments! I pointed to the dustbin in the little alcove outside of the doors (of course I’d ended up in a seat at the end of the compartment closest to the loo) and said what about there? It was ultimately probably going to end up just being dumped somewhere anyway, probably get thrown all together outside the train by the person who emptied it – since there is really no system to get rid of garbage yet in India, but at least the process would be slightly delayed. And it’s probably easier to address mounds of garbage than individual bits and pieces all over the place. He grinned sheepishly but from then on used it and complimented me on my powers of observation (to the people who think I don't have those - see?).

He was telling me that he owned a flat (aka ‘condominium’ in the US) in Hyderabad and had moved to another city for work and was now moving back. He lived with his sister, who was a couple of years younger than him. She, too, worked in Hyderabad, though they were from elsewhere. So she had been living there alone for the past few months while he had been away. I was quite impressed, considering that she was probably only 22 or 23. When I asked him how he commuted to work, he said he had a motor bike and when I asked about her, he said she used an auto (autorickshaw) to get around. When I asked him how come she did not own a scooter or a moped or something to get around, he said he would not allow it. He said it wasn't safe, he’d seen so many accidents. She was free to do whatever she wanted after she got married, but until then, he said, he wanted all her limbs intact. I thought that was very thoughtful of him.

I got to read only a couple of pages of the book I had carried to keep me company (Family Matters – Rohinton Mistry) thanks to this fellow. But I guess your horizons can be expanded any which way. I also left the book on the train. Probably the universe letting me know that there are better sources of entertainment here.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Backwards and Forward

Kokila (the maid) told me that she does not accept the gently used cotton saris my mother has offered her, not because she does not like them, but because she wears only synthetic saris. When I asked her why, since the cotton ones are so pretty, she said that it’s hard to pull the pallav (or the part of the sari that’s left hanging over the shoulder) of a cotton sari over her head and face when in the presence of her father-in-law, brother-in-law or other ‘elders’ in her home – since it is so thick. The Hindi phrase she used for this act translates to something like ‘removing her shame’ or ‘taking out her shame’. As usual, these things always amaze me, that people in this day and age live like it was a hundred years ago (or at least 50 years ago). When I asked her if she did not know that this was the year 2008 and why people still clung to customs such as this, she said that that is just the way things are and there is nothing one can do about it (though my mother assured me that her father-in-law was a really nice man and would probably never object if she did not ‘remove her shame’). I continued talking to her saying things that I hoped would emancipate her (though it is totally none of my business) while thinking that for myself, perhaps it would not really be a bad idea to go even further and acquire a burqa (one of those long garments, usually black, though people are lightening up on the color these days, that you wear to cover your body and your head – with only an opening for the face or slits for the eyes) to wear when using public transport. It would be so freeing! I could wear whatever I want to and ‘take my shame out’ along with myself without having to worry about being groped or stared at!

Monday, November 17, 2008

The Virtue of Selfishness (not sure why I'm writing this and who would want to read it)

I remember reading a book by this name when I was very young – maybe 11 or 12 – I was in this phase where I was reading everything written by Ayn Rand – Atlas Shrugged, The Fountainhead, The Romantic Manifesto and We The Living among others, thanks to the influence of fans of hers at home. I overheard someone in the family once say that I was being spoiled by all these books and they were influencing me negatively. They certainly did influence me and for a very long time I kept comparing people I met to characters in those books – immediately falling in love with people who seemed like Howard Roark and John Galt and hating anyone who seemed in the remotest like Ellsworth Toohey, promoting mediocrity. I sometimes secretly wondered if some of my behaviors were I more like Toohey’s than Howard Roark’s or John Galt’s and even occasionally despised myself if I found they were. I totally agreed with Rand’s philosophy and everything she said – it all seemed to make sense to me. I wanted to be like her heroes and live up to the ideals they held. And I totally agreed that there was nothing but virtue in selfishness.

But when I’ve looked at the things I’ve done and how I’ve lived my life to date, though I’m sure observers consider me very selfish, never seeming to have the interests of those around me at heart, they probably don’t realize that I didn’t have my own interests at heart either – and so never really excelled at anything I did. I never sat and thought about what I wanted and so never conducted my life according to those needs – in any sphere – I just kept doing what I thought was expected of me – by anyone and everyone (usually just random ‘anyones’) but me – in the end giving life to that nagging little thought that perhaps I was more like Toohey after all and just by the nature of the way I behaved encouraged mediocrity in and all around me. I think some of that was taught to me by adults around me, who constantly kept trying to teach that one shouldn’t be selfish, one should consider everyone else etc. – those things may be fine as far as, say, adjusting the thermostat in the room or making sure those around you are physically comfortable etc. – but beyond that, if you start conducting yourself based on everyone else’s needs, then unless that’s really what you want to do, it serves no one.

But Toohey was never who I aspired to be and he’s certainly not my ideal. I think I am so fortunate to have this time to regroup and reflect on my life. My intention going forward is to be selfish – very truly selfish – and that has nothing to do with material things or money or anything like that – just making sure that every step I take and every thing I do serves my interest and where I think I want to go – hopefully, where I know I want to go and must go. If that selfishness leads me to do something that actually helps others, that’s just great, but to just do things thinking that that’s what others want or what’s expected of me or is the noble thing to do and then resent everyone around me will in the end be a disservice to everyone else.

The things that currently drive me nuts

The same old things, every time. They only seem to get worse. After a while, you get used to them again - I haven't gotten to that point yet on this trip:

- Not being able to walk outside without my heart in my mouth, bumping into hundreds of stray dogs within a couple of miles, sometimes vicious looking packs of them (not only does this city have to deal with its own strays, but apparently some genius somewhere decided that strays from other cities were to be dealt with by transporting them here and releasing them - there are hundreds of thousands of stray dogs - India soon will have not only the largest population in the world but already has the largest stray dog population in the world).

- Having to listen to some of those dogs fight amongst each other and bark all night long.

- The narrow, unnatural, 30-40 mile creek that runs by (well, not immediately by, but some 50 feet away) my parents house, beginning at one river and emptying into another, carrying tons of sewage and God knows what else and emanating all kinds of smells at times ).

- Various people throughout the city, including in this locality (middle class people with proper houses, sometimes cars and all kinds of other luxuries - but with pea-sized brains) burning their garbage in piles outside the gates of their houses (including plastics and God knows what other noxious fume producing substances) - they seem to think that this is the state-of-art-way to get rid of your garbage.

- Groups of people (usually men) milling around idly everywhere and staring all together whenever a female form passes by.

- All the people who you sometimes vent about these things to, who live in swanky localities, get driven around in air-conditioned cars and only see the insides and the outsides of the nicest places in India wondering why you're complaining and what you're talking about. They should all do substantial time here, with none of their accouterments.

- A feeling of total frustration and helplessness that nothing can ever be done to improve things here (not that I have ever seriously tried - always started something - if only in the smallest way - and never really stayed long enough to follow through) and sometimes disgust.

- Diwali season (which means fireworks everywhere - everyone buys fireworks). The pretty ones are nice to watch when they're set off, but when rockets tend to almost land on your head or eyes and blind you as you are walking on your terrace, you don't take kindly to either the season or to the idiots who are heedlessly firing these things that travel in a short arc and land, while still burning, on the ground or some one's terrace, head, face or other body part as they're standing or walking outside or the authorities for letting such things be manufactured and sold. Only slightly better than this sort are the 'bombs' - 'atom bombs', 'nuclear bombs' whatever - that go off and usually take your ear drums with them for a while. With a pounding head all I can think of at these times is that I'd like to, as in those Tom and Jerry or Road Runner cartoons, shove these bombs up the backsides of the people setting them off and see how they like it then.

- That there are so few columnists like Tavleen Singh of the Indian Express who actually tell it like it is - everyone else seems to be pulling the wool over their own eyes and just talk about how everything here is the best, the first, the greatest, the whatever - or just don't talk about any of this at all - or just talk about it as if it's all normal

One bright spot:
The ear-splitting noise from constant revelry in open air tents or the street where the not-so-fortunate people hold their weddings or the mullah's call to prayer at ungodly hours over the loudspeaker at nearby mosque no longer seem to be a problem - people seem to be obeying some new law of no noise over loudspeakers between 10 at night and six in the morning or something (or it could just be that I'm here out of season).

I hope I can help in some way, no matter how small and doing no matter what, towards mitigating at least one of these issues - already on it. If nothing else, at least then I can complain a little bit louder.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Bicycles everywhere!

Kokila, the maid who comes once a day to my parents' home to cut vegetables (that's right - her sole job is to cut vegetables for the next day morning's meal - strange job, but they employ her because she wanted the job and they want someone around so that if the regular maid who does the other housework doesn't show up or they need a temporary cook if my mother is indisposed, they'll have someone else to turn to) has a regular day job at a school. She's part of a crew that keeps the school clean. The school is about 3 kilometers away from where she lives and she walks back every afternoon. Today, she was telling me how tired she gets walking back every day - there are no buses that run at the time she and her colleagues leave and they really can't afford an autorickshaw or anything else - in spite of the fact that on her days off from the school, she works at a factory (where she gets paid for about 9 hours of work about Rs. 50 - RS. 50! - that's pure exploitation as far as I'm concerned, but it's the going rate per what she says - that's about $1.10 - now I know things can't be like in the developed countries and people can't get paid even a dollar an hour or anything like that, but come on, it should at least be Rs. 100 for the whole entire day).

So she's going to learn how to ride a bike (she's about 36 and has been widowed for many years now, with two teenagers to take care of) - something that for whatever reason she didn't get to do as a child - and then buy a bike so she can use it for transportation to her school.

Now, in all good conscience, it's going to be impossible for me to take the plane (http://notesfromalongjourney.blogspot.com/2008/11/planes-trains-or-automobiles.html), when I know that if I take the train, I can save enough money to buy her a brand new bicycle (at a cost 0f about Rs. 3000 at the most) and still have enough left over to take my next train journey somewhere. A conscience can be a pain sometimes - but this time, I guess I'll listen - since I really don't have to be anywhere in a hurry and if a few minutes of discomfort can really help make someone I know's life more bearable, then I guess I can put those in a different perspective. Now, ideally, of course, one would take the plane and buy the bicycle. But if I start doing too much of that, then before long, I'll probably be needing a bicycle myself! Now, if I start analyzing things like this every time I travel, everyone I know who needs a bicycle is going to end up with one!

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Choose what shows up

(Getting closer to a new profession - writing inspirational greeting cards!)

It's probably been said before in many different ways
Where the words sit
Makes a difference
In how you view your days
If you can't have what you want then don't think that it's the end
Try wanting what you have and then begin again

Friday, November 07, 2008

What If?

(Greeting card, anyone?)

Every wrong turn ever taken
All the time the way was lost
Every detour, every short cut
Was actually on another path
To a destination
Much grander than
The one you thought you sought

On matters spiritual

For years, I have been irked by a certain Sathya Sai Baba devotee trying to get everyone and their brother (me included) to come to their bhajans and their 'seva' sessions and everything else that they do. Now, those things in and of themselves are not things that I cannot stand participating in or attending, but when they sit in the middle of something that seems so cultish and in the middle of devotees who are so pushy and do not take kindly to anyone who does not view their 'God' or 'Baba' or who or whatever they consider him to be, in the same way, I do not want to go anywhere near them.

And so, it is funny how incredibly annoyed we can become when other people try to shove their spiritual beliefs down our throats, yet act in the same way when we encounter our own epiphanies or have our own experiences. Not understanding how other people cannot believe in what we now believe, having experienced it for ourselves, 'it's real', we say. 'They weren't making it up'. 'It's all true - you have to try it, to experience what I did'. Until suddenly one day, someone points out that you sound like a zealot and they're not interested in trying what you did, or experiencing what you did, or even really in listening to your endless recounting of it.

So, thank you, wise person. On reflection, I understand what you mean, and furthermore, I now understand that one person's truth may be different from another's and that none of it is absolute and that if something is to come to someone, it will; it does not need me to bring it to them. Ok, well I always knew that, it's just that I couldn't help myself all this while. But now I have a lesson learned.

Thursday, November 06, 2008

The wood apple



A strange fruit:

- looks like a tennis ball, except for the color.
- the shell is as hard as a coconut's - you need a hammer to break it open. You could probably use it as a weapon.
- Once you do, it has this seedy pulp inside, not very pleasant smelling, which you scoop out and add jaggery to (as much jaggery as there is fruit).
- You then eat this mixture - from a taste perspective, I'm not sure why, but apparently there are some health benefits (helps with constipation, dry eye etc.)

Pearl of wisdom: This fruit is not to be shared. Apparently, of the hundreds of seeds contained in each fruit, only one is sweet, so sharing the fruit means that all but one person will miss out on that little treasure (thanks to my grandmother by way of my mother).

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Re-importing exports

Been doing some research on yoga schools in India.

The one in Baroda where I go to sometimes on trips to India just does not cut it. Besides with their Gujarati accents (Guarati = local language in state where I am), the teachers constantly say something that make me want to giggle all the time and I lose all concentration ('Practice everyday and you can 'batter' yourself'). Hyderabad, where I'm going, doesn't seem to have anything promising either.

So I thought I'd go hang out in Mysore or Coonoor or Rishikesh for a month or two - perfect at least a handful of poses, apply myself and then stay disciplined for the rest of my life - instead of going to a handful of classes every other year and never practicing at home. But man, are they expensive, not to mention the cost of renting a place, eating, and all that. Any thoughts of staying a year or two and getting a yoga certification (which I've always wanted to do) to then go teach when I go back are out the window. In fact, if anything, I think I'll go back to the US, get certified and come back and teach here - more lucrative!

Monday, November 03, 2008

Already - Regrets

H'mmm - I'm wondering if I'm being wise handing out this URL to random people, telling them to come take a look if they want to see what I've been up to. See - the idea was really to keep a sort of photo journal - of surroundings and happenings and all of that, because I know that some of my friends I've left behind in the US really are interested in what I'm doing. But I also want to write random stuff, for no reason - especially considering I'm not doing anything yet - except perhaps eating exotic things that I can put pictures up of. And at my most natural, I like to use off-color language once in a while. Now don't get me wrong - I don't swear left and right, only if the situation and emotion really calls for it and only in appropriate company (never in front of kids except once, by accident - and nothing more serious than the s word) in person. But I would hate to keep censoring myself in this space and use lackluster substitutes for one or two words (especially one) that have come to express certain (ok all) emotions so well. Now some of these people that I'm handing the address out to might be offended. They probably thought that at least by my age I'd have learned to not be improper. But WTF, this is one of the few advantages of having given up a corporate job, not having kids etc. - can't give everything up in this life! So, if I offend your sensibilities or you're under 18 - then goodbye!

Sunday, November 02, 2008

Planes, trains or automobiles?

Baroda to Hyderabad, approximately 1200 kms. How to get from here to there? The bus (or a car) isn’t really an option – too far (and I don’t have one) and it would only be worse than the train.

So that whittles the choice down to the first two. Now, let me try to be scientific about this:










Train
Plane
Value in monetary terms - traveling by train
Value in monetary terms - traveling by plane
Cost1300 rupees (2nd a/c) 7200 rupees – special fare if I’m lucky 5900 rupees -5900 rupees
Time23 hours About 61/2 hours including waits at airports Since no one’s paying for my time at the moment - none Since no one’s paying for my time at the moment - none
CompanyAs always, will probably end up with lousy company – or more likely just non-company. Paan chewing, lewd middle-aged men (though now that I’m in that same age category, I’d probably give a s**t);totally non-communicative, and probably nothing much to say even if they did, women, etc. I always have the lousiest luck with traveling companions – I pride myself on being friendly with everyone (that’s how I am when I am alone, people, for those of you who think you know me), but I always have the worst luck of the draw. We don’t have to sit face-to-face and it’s too short a trip to care even if we did. ? ?
Proximity of seat to looToo close and you’ll have to plug your nostrils the whole trip and breathe through your mouth. Hopefully better, though who can say? -some some
Risks and DangersArmed bandits could enter compartment, Godhra type incidents could occur, all kinds of things could happen - certainly plenty of time and opportunity Could explode, fall out of sky, get hijacked etc. Probably paltry compensation! Family gets better compensation! – that’s just the way it is.
Special EffectsThe sounds of the train on the tracks – tadak,tadak,tadak – soothing – and the only form of transportation that used to not give me travel sickness as a child Views from the sky ? ?
LooWill have to hold it in for 23 hours. If I really had to, could probably stand it for a few seconds to pee and pretend like it never happened. But what if I ate something bad? As I keep telling people, I am ever so glad that the Indians (though we seem think we are the smartest, brightest, most brilliant people on planet earth and invented everything) had nothing to do with modern technological developments such as the aeroplane. And conveniently now, people will point out that it was the British who screwed us, took us for everything we had etc. and gave us the railway system and the toilets in them that open to the tracks. But get over all that, people, it’s been more than 60 years, do something about it. No one is responsible for the crap here but we ourselves (when I can get told that about my personal life, it should certainly be true for everything else). Can hold it in for this short period of time. Priceless!

I think we have a winner.