mungbean in india
 

Now We Are Two

Time really does seem to be flying by.   

It’s two years ago today since I set up this blog, just after buying my “one way ticket to India”.  Looking back now it’s hard to recall the trepidation of making such a commitment to jumping into the deep end, applying for the visa without understanding how it all worked, wondering about how I would find somewhere to live, and what it would be like to live and work in a country I had never even visited.  But everything fell into place and it all seems to be working out pretty well.

Probably the most important thing I’ve learned here is to stop worrying about things so much, and to trust that things will work out.  So far, everything seems to have done so–touch wood!

I’ve just come back from a great week’s holiday in Rajasthan, visiting Jodhpur and Jaisalmer, so hopefully I will get some photos online soon.  I hesitate to say I’ll write it up here, given that I’ve still not written up Part 2 of the Uttar Pradesh trip I made way back in March.

Now all I can think about is finally travelling home at Christmas, to see my family and friends for the first time in 2 years.  I’m not looking forward to the cold though, I have to say…

 


Filmi Music

Since moving to India I’ve been educating myself about the film industry here, and particularly the music which is an essential part of any movie.

This tune  is one of my favourites so far, even though I’ve never actually seen the movie Noorie yet. (It’s set in Kashmir btw – looks great on the clip, eh?)

The playback singer is Lata Mangeshkar, who along with her sister Asha Bhosle, must have sung 90% of all the tracks that ever came out of Bollywood. “Legend” doesn’t even begin to describe these two ladies.

(After years of debate and rivalry, the Guinness book of records finally decided in 2011 that Asha was the world’s most recorded artist ever, with around 11,000 recordings to her name. Mind-boggling really.)

Back when I lived in Leicester, whenever I used to go to one of my favourite Indian restaurants–the Lal Bagh, off London Road–there would always be these tinny-sounding old movie tunes playing over the speakers, and I was drawn to what I considered a kitschy-but-loveable aesthetic. Now I realise I was actually listening to Indian musical royalty, even though the tunes sounded like they were recorded on a piece of tin or something.  It maybe explains why they were given such pride of place in the restaurants.

I’ve been listening to music from the subcontinent for a long time… going right back to when I used to hear exotic melodies coming out of Pakistani taxis and kebab shops when I was growing up in Lancashire. But it took a while for the music to enter the UK mainstream, and by that time a lot of the stuff I recognised and liked was being produced by the British-Asian Scene, by people like Nithin Sawhney, Panjabi MC, or Talvin Singh, and it was noticeably different. (With notable exceptions of legends and cross-over successes like Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, or Zakir Hussain.)  So it’s good to be learning about the origins, and returning to the source.

Never a day goes by here without hearing some of these filmi tunes, whether it’s on the mobile phone of an otherwise-bored security guard, or over the PA of one of the less pretentious supermarkets. (You can hear some great tunes in the supermarket, and that’s when Shazam really comes into its own. The more up-market malls or shops always seem to have Western music playing, and without fail it’s always terrible.)  They’re not all to my taste by any means, but they certainly add to the flavour of life in India.

And the people here love them!  There’s something quite heart-warming about seeing a rickshaw driver or a school-girl absently-mindedly belting out one of their favourite tunes as they go about their daily business…  Anyone who’s singing away to themselves is certainly feeling happy, no question about that.

Here’s another great tune from Noorie: Aashiq Ho To Aisa Ho… I really must watch this movie one day…

 


Bureaucracy

New Gas Bottle

It’s the 17th of the month again, which means it’s exactly 22 months since I arrived in Bangalore.

More to the point, it also means I had to get my employment visa renewed.

So today I spent the whole day in or around the Foreigners Regional Registration Office, or FRRO–an acronym that strikes fear into the heart of many an expat in India. I had been looking forward to this about as much as a visit to the dentist (clue: I hate the dentist), but it’s done and now I’m sorted for another year, with a visa extension and a new residency permit.

And at least it only took one day this time. I’d been dreading it because the last time I had to do it, to renew just my residency permit back in December, it took three whole days of going there, being told that a document was missing (or formatted very slightly wrongly), having to go away, get it done again, or get something printed or xeroxed, going to the police station, waiting for cops to turn up at the apartment to check I lived there, etc etc. And when you’re teaching, having to reschedule 3 days worth of classes is not so simple either.

Today–thanks to our wonderful HR Executive, Roshan–I went along with a carefully-prepared selection of 25 different documents (I counted them). Tax documents, proof of address, ID, provident fund contributions, yadda yadda yadda, and yet they still quibbled. But at least nobody even mentioned a police check. (The Iranian student who was in the queue in front of me got one though.) And I was fully prepared for arguing, and knowing that you have to do it with exactly the right balance of being assertive, but not raising your voice or getting anyone upset.

I’ve become so used to the over-the-top bureaucracy here that I invariably end up expecting the worst, but quite often it turns out not so bad after all.

Shanti shanti, all is well.

Case in point: my gas bottle finally ran out at the weekend, which meant I couldn’t cook on my hob any more. It’s not an exaggeration to say I had been dreading this, because for some reason, possibly terrorism-related, it’s supposed to be really hard to get a “connection” (actually just a replacement gas bottle) without all kinds of paperwork… but I hadn’t had to do this before, so I didn’t really know. You’re supposed to be registered with the government and have a number and stuff. I was emailing my landlord in Dubai asking him about it (didn’t have any number), and I was hoping the maid would help (she wasn’t keen), but in the end I just phoned the number of the local Jyothi Gas dealer.

I was expecting the usual awkward faffing around on the phone. I’m pretty phone-o-phobic at the best of times, but when you try to communicate with someone who has poor English, typically here on a very distorted phone connection, it’s quite exasperating. There are only so many times you can ask someone “sorry, can you repeat that?” before it gets too embarrassing. (Three times, I find.) Once or twice it’s taken me a while to realise they weren’t actually speaking English after all. And the Indian habit of saying “Hello? Hello?” at random points in the conversation takes some getting used to. Quite often I simply had to abandon a telephone conversation completely because we couldn’t understand each other. Face-to-face communication is so much easier in these situations even if the language barrier is still there, and non-verbal communication can help a lot.

But in the end it was a crystal-clear phone connection, the guy at the gas dealer’s spoke perfect English, and–glory of glories–he didn’t even mention anything about registration or a customer number. Result! I asked them to deliver after 6.30pm when I would be home from work (they almost always assume a maid or someone will be home during the day otherwise), and we were done.

Well, almost. After getting home nobody had turned up by 8pm so I decided to get my shopping done just up the road, to avoid waiting in all night on the off-chance, but nobody turning up. They had my mobile number, so if they came when I was out, they would call and I could come back straight away and we would be sorted.

Not so… getting home with my shopping, the security guards explained in their usual mix of miming and 1 or 2 English words that the gas had been, and gone away. Damn! In the end I just called the nice crystal-clear man again. “No problem”, he said. “I will send my person there again right away”.

And he did. And he was in and out within 5 minutes, taking the empty bottle with him.

So, in the end a good transaction and good service, and all over in a couple of hours. After I’d been worrying since June–for 4 months!–what would happen when my gas ran out.

I did learn how to be very frugal with it though.


School Run

Rare sight of seven persons on a motor bike spotted on Siddhaiah road on Friday morning in Bangalore (photo: Times of India)

As seen in today’s Times Of India: “Rare sight of seven persons on a motor bike spotted on Siddhaiah road on Friday morning in Bangalore”.

 


East

It’s another holiday!  Today is Gandhi Jayanti, celebrating the mahatma’s birthday.

After a very long wait between Good Friday (6th April) and Independence Day (15th August) we’re now into the best season with 3 holidays in October and 2 in November this year.   It’s pretty disruptive to the teaching–our 4th term of the year starts in college this week–but very welcome nonetheless.

One of the big surprises about moving out to India is that I’ve become a morning person.  (Or it could be my middle-aged hormones kicking in.)  This morning I was suddenly wide-awake just before dawn, around 6 O’Clock, so I got up,  made a cup of coffee and enjoyed the spectacular sunrise.  And especially the peacefulness–being a holiday there wasn’t a single car on the roads, and not a honk to be heard.

I have a great East-facing flat here, usually filled with sunshine right after sun-up, and somehow I’ve got used to harnessing that energy.  Having a day off meant being able to do nothing, which today was pottering about in the small garden on my balcony.

I’m a big fan of gardening but before moving to India I ended up with 13 years of not having any outdoor living space at all. Mind you, with the Scottish weather that’s not such a big deal.  But moving out here and being able to enjoy Bangalore’s climate made me all the more enthusiastic to get my green fingers up and running again.

 

tomatoes

 

In my previous Bangalore flat I had a lot more space and grew quite a few vegetables, but here I’ve been mostly cultivating tomatoes and a few herbs.  Even then, the tomatoes haven’t been a huge success due to the troop of Macaques that hangs around, and comes raiding the apartments on a regular basis.  Once they’d discovered the tomatoes the same routine would play out again and again…  I would hear a thud as something obviously heavy lands on the garden table; I would look out the window to see a big fat grey-haired monkey chewing on a green tomato; I would open the doors to shoo it away, and it would just look at me as if I were insane; and then I would throw some water at it and it would leave, looking quite surly but not at all afraid.

A few weeks back the monkeys started to become quite a nuisance generally, and an e-mail debate raged on our residents’ association mailing list, with the subject “Monkey Menace”.  The “against” camp were suggesting that monkey-catchers should be called in to get rid of them (they’re in the phone book, as are snake-catchers).  Someone even recommended hiring Langurs–which are actually another type of monkey!  They are sometimes trained to scare away other, more mischievous primates, as with the 2010 Commonwealth Games in Delhi.  And the “for” camp were pointing out that they were god’s creatures and had every right to be here.

The residents’ main concern is that the monkeys will come into the apartments through any open doors or windows, usually to steal food.  And it appears that monkeys really do love bananas in real life, not just in cartoons.  Slightly more worrying if you have young children though.  A couple of weeks ago I heard shouting coming from next door and looked out the window to see a large male walking along my railings carrying a tupperware box.  (Tupperware is something else that features heavily on our mailing list.)   He sat down, oblivious to the shouting and stick-waving coming from next door, popped the top rather expertly from the tupperware box and started eating the nuts or biscuits or whatever was inside.

 

 

Watching the local wildlife is one of the great joys of sitting out here.  (As I’m writing this it’s now dusk, about 28 degrees, and I’m sitting outside with a glass of chilled rosé and hoping the Odomos and many incense sticks will keep the mosquitoes off–one side of the wildlife I’d rather do without, especially after that near-miss with Dengue a few months ago.)

In the past week the air during the day has been filled with hundreds of dragonflies, flitting back and forth right next to the balcony.  I can’t imagine where they come from… back home I would associate them with ponds, and even then you would only usually see one or two together.  I also get some amazing butterflies coming to visit, although they’re very difficult to photograph because they come and go so quickly, and never stay still for long.

 

 

Recently there’s been a little Palm Squirrel visiting, and he’s awe-inspiring to watch because he runs and leaps in such a death-defying way… considering he’s only 6 inches tall and I’m on the 7th floor, the view down from the handrail doesn’t seem to phase him at all.

And there are lots of birds too, particularly Kites, the large birds of prey that are often mistaken for Eagles, but which are actually scavengers rather than hunters.  A pair of Black Kites has just started building a precarious-looking nest in one of the generator-chimneys that’s next to where I live.  I’ve seen them foraging for twigs, some of them more like small branches, and swooping around carrying them in their talons.  I’m looking at the nest right now.  I don’t have a great zoom on my camera, but hopefully should be able to see any chicks when they arrive.

 

Kites nesting

 

It’s been great having this outdoor space, and I will really miss it when I inevitably leave.  Still, I thoroughly enjoyed building up the garden from nothing in the previous flat, then shifting it all here and continuing to build my own little piece of jungle, even though it’s only temporary.

As I’ve said before, working abroad is a bit like life… you arrive with nothing and you leave with nothing.  So you just make the most of what you have while you’re here.

 

 


Happy Ganesh Chaturthi

 

Today is a big, big holiday in the South and West of India–it’s Ganesh Chaturthi, the festival (and birthday) of Lord Ganesha, son of Shiva and Parvati, who is instantly recognisable as the Hindu deity with the elephant’s head.

For the last week or so street vendors have been setting up roadside camps selling Ganesh idols, and temporary outdoor stages, kitchens and shrines have been constructed in random places (often completely obstructing the road) in preparation for this big festival which actually starts on 19th September but runs for 10 days.

As I walked home from work last night the traffic was even more crazy than usual, electric lights were strung up everywhere, and people were buying flowers, sweets and huge bunches of banana leaves.   One of the little backstreets I usually walk down had been completely transformed with pulsating rope-lights, more Vegas than Koramangala.   The streets were buzzing with anticipation.

 

selling idols

 

The reason for selling so many idols is that they get paraded through the streets, either carried or on the back of a truck, and then finally they are ritually immersed in a lake or the sea.  Around 265,000 are immersed in just 4 lakes in Bangalore each year.

Traditionally they are made out of plaster of paris, but this being the 21st century there’s much talk in the media about “eco-idols” which are made out of clay and so won’t result in the lakes being clogged up and polluted due to the large numbers being left there.

Some of the idols are real works of art, and the large ones are very expensive, with 6-foot ones reportedly selling for around Rs 15,000 (£170) this year.

Some of them are also rather… interesting.

 

spider ganesh

photo: Ricardo Gallego

 

So, we seem to be well and truly into the “festive season” again now, as I wrote around this time last year, although since most of the religious holidays are based on lunar calendars they all move around from one year to the next.  There are several national holidays in October and I’m planning to join some of them up using a few days’ leave and make a trip up North… watch this space.

Meanwhile, here’s to new beginnings and the removal of obstacles!  

 

Ganesh Chaturthi

 


Small Things #3

Walking through Koramangala as I head home from work, I slip down a quiet residential side-street away from the traffic.  Round the corner, out of the almost-darkness comes a small herd of around 8 or 9 grey-haired buffalo calves, their huge ears flapping as their heads bob from side to side.  The smallest are only the size of a large dog, and the biggest about twice this size.

Every face has the same expression, something like a contented grin. Sticking close together, they happily bob along the road, seemingly knowing exactly where they’re going—even though there’s nobody with them.


Mumbai

Taxi, Banyans, Shrine

I went to Mumbai last week–mainly because we had finally got through the madness of our graduation, exhibition and fashion show at college and I wanted to get away for a few days, but also because I was really curious to see what the city is like.

Everyone told me that it would be crazy and crowded and noisy, but I really liked the place.  Admittedly though, I did spend the first day or two in the slightly more well-heeled South of the city, around Colaba, which feels very cosmopolitan and has some great little cafés and restaurants serving Western food.  It was great to find some good coffee, nice bread and a decent salad.

When I’m on holiday I really like to wander around a place and look at the architecture, and Mumbai turned out to be ideal for this… not only was the late monsoon weather relatively cool (well, around 28 with a decent breeze), but there are also lots of interesting old buildings in a variety of styles, including a surprising amount of crumbling old Art Deco.  It’s also full of cute little Premier Padmini taxis, which are basically a 1960’s Fiat 1100.  All of this lends the place an air of faded retro glamour.

While I was there I realised that one thing that Bangalore really lacks is a sense of history–as you might expect in a city that has doubled in size in 20 years, almost everything looks new.  So to me, Mumbai felt like it has much more of a character, and stories it could tell.

 

balcony

 

It’s also by the sea of course, and there was something about arriving at the West coast and seeing the ocean and the palm trees that reminded me of, erm… Los Angeles. Maybe.

 

glamour

marine bay drive

shade

 

Slums

Mumbai is a huge city, the biggest in India and the 4th largest city proper in the world, with a population around 12 million people–or up to 23 million depending on how you count. And one of the things it’s known for is its slums.

I knew there would be slums there, but I was astounded to see them absolutely everywhere as the plane came in to land and we flew low over the city.  All around, tiny shacks were clinging to hillsides and crammed into any available space, even right up to the edge of the airport runway.  Blue tarpaulins and rusty corrugated tin roofs extended as far as the eye could see.

According to the 2011 census, 78% of Mumbai’s city population lives in slums.  That’s more than 9 million people, about the same as the population of Sweden. In Slums. In just one city.

I really can’t get my head around that at all.

Mumbai’s most famous slum is Dharavi, as featured in the movie Slumdog Millionaire among several others. Until recently it was known as “Asia’s biggest slum” but as of 2011 there are now at least 4 others which are even bigger, just in Mumbai alone. And Dharavi’s population is reckoned to have now reached 1 million people.  All living in an area of one square mile.

Apart from anything else, this gives you an idea of the speed at which the population is growing.

I decided to go and visit.

 

dharavi view

Dharavi Housing by ElArbolito @ Flickr

Lonely Planet recommends a tour by Reality Tours & Travel, who also run the non-profit organisation Reality Gives which supports a broad range of really interesting educational and development projects in Dharavi itself, including a girls’ football team and teaching bee-keeping to local people.  So although the idea of “Slum Tourism” might be rather distasteful to some, I wanted to see the place and the people for myself so that I could understand the situation better.  And knowing that the money I spent on it would support the community made it seem worthwhile, and a better idea than just wandering around the place alone.

So on a very wet Monday morning I set off to Churchgate station to meet with the tour guide and catch a train to Dharavi. I had already watched the documentaries on Dharavi that Channel 4 put out a couple of years ago, so I was expecting the visit to be pretty grim.

 

mccloud

Kevin McCloud: Slumming It. Channel 4, 2010.
Episode 1 and Episode 2 watchable online, UK only.

 

But in the end I found it a really positive and inspiring experience.  Yes, people are living and working in some pretty awful conditions, but Dharavi is a surprisingly well-developed society–a fully functioning city within a city–and it’s home to thousands of small businesses, with a combined annual turnover of around US$650 million.  There is high employment and very little crime.

The tour guide, one of a team of local students who do the work in their spare time, repeatedly told us with a smile that Dharavi is a “5-star slum”, and that it has a bank, a cinema, even a video game parlour and an ATM.  Some of the residents have even become relatively wealthy, and we were proudly shown a couple of CCTV cameras that were pointing at parked cars in one of the “up-market” neighbourhoods.

Not that any of this makes it remotely glamorous, or even normal.  Small children squat in the street to go to the toilet. Living conditions are extremely cramped, and most buildings have 2 stories with the upper level reached only by a very steep iron ladder that you have to descend backwards.  A maze of tiny passageways snakes between the houses–so narrow that you can’t pass through with your umbrella up.

Generally speaking, it feels like how you would imagine a medieval European city would have been.

But still, the industrial revolution is very much in evidence here, and at every turn we came across another small business: recycling plastics, cardboard, oil drums and cooking-oil cans; making pottery, clothes, cakes; or tanning leather.  Absolutely everyone seemed busy working. And once again the overwhelming cheerfulness of the local people… all the school-children we passed said “hi!” and greeted us with big smiles, and many of the adults too.  Even though it was absolutely bucketing down with monsoon rain.  And, unusually for an Indian city, nobody at all was begging.

Cameras weren’t allowed on the tour so I don’t have any pictures of my own, but these wonderful photos by Meena Kadri (aka Meanest Indian) do a great job of showing Dharavi’s people and industries.  

(See the whole set.)

 

Sack Stitcher

Sack Stitcher by Meanest Indian @ Flickr

oil can recycling

Drum Alley I by Meanest Indian @ Flickr

dharavi junior

Dhavari Junior by Meanest Indian @ Flickr

Watching the Channel 4 film again, and seeing Kevin McCloud squirming (his first time ever in India and he stays in Dharavi for over a week!), it makes me realise how much I’ve become used to seeing poverty and rubbish everywhere, and how the rag-pickers in our midst use one to fight the other.  Not that I’m immune to it–far from it.  The poverty is still distressing, but it no longer shocks me with the same intensity that it did when I first arrived here.

Maybe it was a deliberate decision by the tour guide, but we didn’t really see much of the filthy squalor shown on the documentaries–particularly around the “pipeline” area.  Since it was raining really hard, and because the one other person on the tour with me had foolishly made a lunchtime appointment that she had to be back in town for, we ended up going round the place fairly quickly.  So maybe we cut some bits out, or maybe some of the nasty stuff was hidden underwater–it was ankle deep in rainwater in many places. (And I was wondering what else might be in there–they have Cholera outbreaks from time to time due to the lack of sanitation.)

The real squalor is definitely there though, and not just in Dharavi.  Catching a suburban train back to the relatively affluent South of Mumbai, the route took us past some really dire places.  A delapidated, derelict old building dripping with rain and covered in ferns, with an elderly couple lying on cots in an open corridor.  Small children looking out of glassless windows as the train goes past.  Tiny patchwork shacks a couple of metres wide, built from hundreds of random boards and metal sheets, and all jammed together right up next to the railway.   Whole families living under blue tarpaulins on the pavement, next to a busy 6-lane highway.

But what really struck me about the people in Dharavi is that they have a functioning and vibrant community where they can work and go to school, and that this brings them dignity and opportunity.

Put simply, they belong there. They own it. The people built Dharavi for themselves, out of nothing, and they continue to develop it.  It has been called “the ultimate user-generated city”.

Perhaps this is why so many of Dharavi’s entrepreneurs and business-owners prefer to stay, even though they have become relatively wealthy.

On the other hand, the options for moving out would also be extremely limited, since Mumbai is arguably the most expensive place to live in India.  Property prices are through the roof, probably due to the city’s status as financial capital of the country, as well as being the home of the Bollywood film industry and many of its stars.

When I had just arrived, one of the first landmarks I spotted as my airport taxi drove into Mumbai was Antilia, the 27-storey “home” built by billionaire industrialist Mukesh Ambani, India’s richest man. I recognised it straight away, because I had read about it only recently.

 

Antilia

 

The audacity of this project is almost as as hard to grasp as the statistics about the slums.  It’s supposedly the world’s most expensive house, at around US$1-2 billion. It has 3 helipads and parking space for 168 cars, taking up 6 floors.

And of course, it would be looking down onto a number of slums.

 

Antilia

 

So once again we come back to the theme of India being a place of contradictions and contrasts. And it’s hard to imagine more contrast than a mega-city that’s home to movie stars, bankers and billionaires, but where more than three quarters of the population live in slums. Or where the world’s most expensive house looks out over families who live out on the pavement.

It was only a flying visit this time, and I didn’t get to see some of the landmarks that had been on my list such as Dhobi Ghat, Elephanta Island and Chor Bazaar.  But I would love to go back and see more of Mumbai.

 

I have a small set of Mumbai photos on flickr.   For those in the UK, the Channel 4 documentaries are highly recommended as well: Episode 1, Episode 2.

 

 

 


Small Things #2

In a hotel room in Mumbai, Sunday morning about 9am.  I suddenly notice that it’s really quiet… all I can hear is the clock ticking and crows cawing outside.  A tap-tap on the window turns out to be a dragonfly looking in.  It must have been like this for at least half an hour.

I’m pondering how peace and quiet is such a rare commodity in Indian cities, and how you could run special holidays to quiet places for city-dwellers. And just how fragile the tranquility is.  Then I hear 2 honks of a car horn followed by a dog barking and I burst out laughing.


Assimilation

It’s Independence Day in India today, my second one since arriving here, and a national holiday.  

I’ve now been here for 1 year and 8 months. Assimilation is probably too strong a word, but I joked that I was fully assimilated when I bought a pressure cooker for my maid to use a few weeks ago.  I had never used one before, but the communal hissing of pressure cookers joins the sound of grass or twig brooms sweeping tiled floors as a candidate for “Essential Sound of the Early Morning in India”.

Anyway I noticed in the last couple of weeks that life in Bangalore now feels very “normal”. I am pretty much used to the way everything works, so much so that I don’t really notice the idiosyncracies of Indian life any more.   I’m not taking photographs of everyday things so much, either.

Talking to students and local colleagues is no longer such an adventure in negotiating Indian English, although I do occasionally stop and ask whether certain idiomatic phrases are used or not.  I now know to say “co-ordinate” instead of “liaise” — I learned early on that nobody has a clue about that one here, and that nobody will tell you that they don’t know what a word means.  I now say “garbage” instead of “rubbish”. When I ask the auto-driver to take me to “Wipro Park”, I pronounce it with a “V”, and so on… everyday stuff you just pick up by osmosis, so you can make yourself understood.   I’ve also noticed that I’ve started to pick up expressions used by my students which I hadn’t come across before.  For example, “As in?” signifying “How/what do you mean?” is one that I hear all the time and it has insinuated itself into my brain, even though I don’t particularly like it.

I somehow got into the habit of pointing using my whole hand, with the fingers together, since pointing with one finger might be considered an aggressive gesture.   I always hand money to people with my right hand rather than the left, after the telling-off I got from an auto driver  shortly after arriving.  All this stuff is automatic now.

(I’m in danger of repeating myself a bit here… I just noticed that 2 months ago I was also writing about how normal things had started to feel, but I’ve definitely noticed a shift in how things feel in the last couple of weeks…)

Anyway, something that’s much harder to put into words is that generally I no longer feel like I am “other” or different from everyone else.  I felt a little self-conscious wearing a kurta in the shopping mall yesterday (we had a “dress ethnic” day in college), but otherwise it doesn’t seem to occur to me any more that I am different, even when I’m the only light-skinned person in the whole place, which happens a lot.  Or I suppose it does —  I don’t notice any more. I realised that I don’t really think of my students or colleagues as being Indian any more either… which might be because I know them all really well now, or because I’m used to the local ways of speaking and doing things.

Anyway, I feel at home here.   And I am accustomed to the many contradictions and contrasts of everyday life here, which I have written about many times, and which you will also read about in all the guidebooks.  It seems to be one of the things that defines this country.

So when I read PM Manmohan Singh’s Independence Day speech today, I was hardly surprised when, alongside  the typical developing nation stuff like:

We would achieve independence in the true sense only when we are able to banish poverty, illiteracy, hunger and backwardness from our country.

and

More than 1 lakh [100,000] new villages have been provided with electricity connections under [the Rajiv Gandhi Rural Electrification] scheme and now almost all the villages in the country have been electrified. Our next target is to provide electricity to each and every household in our country in the next 5 years and to also improve the supply of electricity.

I came across this somewhat incongruous announcement:

Recently the Cabinet has approved the Mars Orbiter Mission. Under this Mission, our spaceship will go near Mars and collect important scientific information. This spaceship to Mars will be a huge step for us in the area of science and technology.

A mission to Mars!

The world’s biggest democracy (which recently had the world’s biggest power-cut) is struggling to provide electricity to more than two-thirds of its rural population.  A third of the people of India live below the international poverty level of $1.25 a day. 35% of females and 18% of males are illiterate. And child malnutrition is 2nd in the world only to Bangladesh.  All of these things were mentioned in the PM’s speech.

In this context, spending money on sending a probe to Mars seems a completely ridiculous contradiction.  But like I said, I was hardly even surprised by the announcement.

Jai Hind!