A Passage To India

The Return

2011-02-10T23:26:00.001+05:30

On February 28th last year I had said my last goodbyes to those that had made my time in India so special. For two years (2008-2010) I had travelled, worked, and opened my eyes to so many new languages and cultures that when I finally left I did feel like I was leaving a piece of me behind. Which piece I don't yet know, but last time I checked I still had both my arms, legs and face. May be I had left a nail?

And so when you embrace a culture, peoples and surroundings so different to your own, you tend to have one of two reactions; either you take on the experience fully and become entwined within the locality of where you are or you do the absolute opposite and reject everything around you. I do believe that having some Indian heritage behind me probably helped me a lot to settle within the country, but India is a vast nation, full of different cultures within other sub-cultures, so to settle in a city where I knew none of the local languages or the customs of the people of the South was somewhat of a cultural shock for me.

Living amongst the people of Bangalore was "an experience". I did not live modestly within an expat community (most people that lived in my area were taxi drivers, independent businessmen or couriers), neither did I afford the luxury of having a driver, housemaid or cook. I did everything myself - cooking, cleaning, groceries. Apart from my ironing and washing (which made more sense giving it to a laundrette then attempting to dry my clothes on a little rack), I lived the just like a Kannadigan. The only difference was I dressed differently and spoke differently, but that didn't make a difference in the little town of JP Nagar 2nd Phase. Hidden within the large locality of Jayanagar (one of Bangalore's biggest residential areas) JP Nagar is as local as it gets. Everyone on every little dusty road knows one another. Sometimes this wasn't to your benefit of course, especially if someone knew something about someone else and started a game of Chinese Whispers. But each member of the community looked out for one another. I didn't at all feel like an outsider here. Sure people stare and wonder who you are (wouldn't you if a ripped jeans wearing tattoo donning fella with a strange accent starts buying groceries from your store yet doesn't wear the traditional combination of oversized shirt and trousers with yellow teeth from a beedi?)

There were times when I wondered if I should try learn the language, but my Hindi needed improving first to be perfectly honest, and through the use of friends and Bollywood films, I somehow managed to hold a decent conversation (even if I was slipping the odd Gujarati word in occasionally). This one time, I thought I should really make an effort with my clothing instead of my speech, so I purchased a lungi. Now if you don't know what a lungi is, its a long piece of fine cloth that you wrap around you almost like a skirt. Indians made this fashionable before David Beckham started walking around in a sarong. Its a regional garment of South India and is very comfortable (note: provides ample air conditioning). So, one Sunday morning I dressed myself in my brand new lungi, which had a green sartorial pattern draped across the seam. I don't know if your supposed to wear underwear with it, which was probably the part I got wrong. I was outside cleaning my porch and watering plants when my lungi decided to fall off! Yes, this beautiful silky garment fell off and slid down from my waist to the fall like it was a piece of red cloth slowly revealing a masterpiece in a Paris art gallery. Across from my balcony i heard a gasp, (because I didn't know at that moment it fell off), of my neighbour (who was also cleaning her porch). I wondered what was wrong with her, asthma attack maybe? But it dawned on me - I was commando in one of the most prudish places on Earth! I dropped my broom and ran through the door, lungi following behind me!

As much as one attempts to ensure they feel a part of the locals, sometimes you have to respect that you will be accepted and treated like one but you'll never be one. I think I should have stuck to jeans.

So next week, after watching the small matter of Arsenal v Barcelona at the Emirates, I will be going back to India for the first time after 1 year. What am I expecting? I really don't know. Will I be able to drink mosambi juice for 10RS (probably 15RS now) from Juice Corner just outside my old gym? Will I be able to haggle with rickshaw drivers in my broken Kannada language for a mere 20RS? What will my area look like now after 1 year of development? These are all questions that go through my mind as I write this blog post. The question now is, "Am I ready?"

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email me at ravin dot sampat at gmail.com

The Great Indian Paradox Part 2

2009-09-04T14:07:00.000+05:30

(Three random men come and pose with me and the India flag on August 15th in Coonoor)

Taking two steps forward, or two steps back?

India recently turned 62 (August 15th), and I have often wondered on Independence Day (whilst sitting in hills of Coonoor) what turning 62 had meant to India and it's people.

The things I experience on an everyday occurrence have made me want to answer the big question, a question so big that the various newspaper editorials almost seem to want to discuss it on a weekly basis – "How much has India changed in the last 62 years since Independence?" I guess this question keeps popping up because a. India still gets plagued by various issues that only become evident to the world but evident to Indians too and b. well, the nation needs something to talk about!. Of course, economically and on a structural basis the answer is India has changed, or developed. But socially, is it any different? From my one year experience here, I can safely say that the India I live in is not the India that once used to scare me. It’s also not the India that others depicted to me. It still has its issues of course, I can’t deny that, but what place, town, city, country, or even continent in the world doesn’t?

Name me a country that doesn’t have sanitation problems, corruption or an over-stretching of its resources? In the UK, our health service apparently sucks, the United States has an obesity and gun crime rate as large as a jumbo bloody jet, whilst France has growing communal tensions, and the Middle East – well, will we ever get Peace in the Middle East?

India is on the path to the great life, but the same problems still bring it back down to Earth. In trying to advance, India is also stumping its own growth. For example, the country has a large waste issue. I have to say that the unique recycling methods used by people here is admirable, like using yesterdays newspaper as a plate for tomorrow's fried "aloo bhonda's" (basically potato vada). But with the lack of bins and waste disposal facilities on the streets, scores of crap is seen lying around nearly every street corner. In the mornings when I make my way to the gym, I get my warm up by argueing and barking back at stray (pariah) dogs who sit on the street corners scouring through rubbish thrown out by very educated Indians, who rather prefer to throw last nights chicken, dosa's or take away pizza on the street then find out a place where they can actually safely throw rubbish away. Can anyone blame them? Civic facilities was never a strong point. Just ask the number of parents who have lost children falling down manholes and bore wells on a weekly basis, all because nobody in the local constituency wanted to spend money filling up a hole. It can wait, as most excuses appear to be.But how long can India go on like this without addressing matters that seem so small? Is filling up a manhole a priority or is spending lakhs of money on ridiculous projects more worthy?

In the last year, I have read about communal violence almost weekly. Some Muslim’s are still segregated and Hindu nationalists still claim to be protecting India’s moral ground (see my blog post on the Mangalore attacks). But the Hindu-Muslim argument can no longer be the one factor affecting Indian society but more close to home, India's caste system is and I have experienced this myself.

Upon signing the deed for my flat back in August 2008, the landlord's witness (who also functions as an authorised notary, businessman selling tiles and religious nut on weekends) asked me what I was. What was I? I said British-Indian. He smiled. His question wasn't about nationality. It was about caste. Again he asked. Again, not answering his question directly, I said "Originating in Gujarat". He smiled again. "But what it is you are?" I needed him to be more specific. And so he said "I am Brahim. What are you?" "Oh, I'm a citizen of the universe" I replied, but he never got the joke, so I said "Kshatriya". After that three minute encounter, he didn't even bother checking any of my credentials (passport, job, documents) and signed the form and said bye. This incident occurs everyday. You wouldn't find a Dalit on my road because that would just be disastrous. My landlord has already told me that 4 Iranians took a flat two streets away from mine, and after 26/11 terrorist attacks, no "risks" could be taken so they were reported to the police. No doubt they were reported after they had paid a deposit. Even after 60+ years of Independence, untouchability is still the thorn of civic society. Even if change is evident around the country, these unfortunately have only come in small instances. How can a country claim to be the largest democracy in the world when democracy means equality and freedome for all?

Dalits are still segregated with little access to temples, water sources and upper caste areas. In Radhanagar in Hooghly district, the birthplace of social reformer Raja Ram Mohan Roy, there are separate crematoria for Brahmins and non-Brahmins. Waganagere village in Gulbarga district of Karnataka had a case where 120 Dalit households were forced to draw water from their well even after a dog fell in and died. During festivities, not only are they served food separately, but they have to bring their own plates and tumblers.

Such instances only begs the question - Is India stumping its own growth? Recently, Australia has been under fire in India for the wave of attacks upon Indian students living and studying in their sunny haven. Indian newspapers and the media claimed Australia was a racist and dangerous country for Indians and that something had to be done about this both diplomatically and through political protest. But I wondered to myself had India ever taken an introspective view of this? Aren't Indian's racist too? With a caste system that goes back centuries, Indian's still use the race and caste card to this day. In Mumbai, North Indians are targeted by Bal Thackeray and his mobs because apparently they're not welcome in Maharashtra. In Bangalore, girls and guys from the North East of India are called "chinki" and you only have to see it for yourself to sit back and feel utterly disgusted by it.

India isn't all doom and gloom and one year here has shown that it's beauty and soul is still what makes me feel like I'm somewhere special. I don't know or can think of another place in the world where school children can ask random guys on bikes for a lift up the road at traffic signals (without it being seen as weird or as if the biker is a child molester whisking another victim away). Neither do I know a place where everybody knows how to touch your heart by asking you the simple question "have you eaten?"

62 years is a long time and India is coming a long way, but it still does have longer to go. The potential is too big to minimise into words. India is not going backwards, but in going forward it has to make tough choices between what is seen as tradition, what is seen as Indian and what is seen as forward movement. Is India going forward with more clubs, bars, cinemas and malls? Is India going backwards more emphasis on caste, religion and regionalism?

As I said in my last post, the outsider view of India is much easier to have then the complex one I have by living here. If I compared my view of India before I came here with the view I have by living here, I would say its so much more easier to have an perception of something than be constantly involved in the evolution process of something right in front of you, because you cannot find words to describe it yourself.

Many Indians abroad may complain of the bad fruits of this nation but deep down many want to come here and experience its riches. That may sound colonial, or imperialist, but it isn't. I don't live the life of the upper-classes here. I try to live in India how the majority of Indian's would live it. Experience of this tells me that India hasn't gone beyond itself and neither is it underachieving. It's just relaxing in a position where if it wanted to push on, it can, but instead it chooses not too. Why? Well, if i knew that answer I wouldn't have so many questions! Life is "araam sai" (easy going) here and will continue to be.Wherever India is headed, all I can say is that I'm lucky to be apart of it.

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Ravin is heading to Mumbai in the coming weeks and will be on holiday. The next blog post will be the first week of October.

The Great Indian Paradox Part 1

2009-08-11T22:18:00.009+05:30

(Despite the "No Urine Sign", a passer-by still urinates on the wall. Rules in India exist, but no-one wants to adhere to them)

Bangalore – Sunday 30^th August, 2009

Mandvi, Kutch - a desert land full of marshes, is apparently my ancestoral home. The Rann of Kutch as it's more famously known became a port for Arab traders to trade and introduce Indian spices to the Arab world. I never knew how important this place was until Michael Palin decided to cover it in ne of his "Around the World in 80 day's" episodes.

Some more research is done and I find that I originate from Jaisalmar, Rajasthan. That's according to Wikepedia.

Confusing? Bare with me.

Some further research down the months and a few conversations later, I find that I’m Kshtriya (second to Brahmins on the Hindu caste list – boy to I detest this system), the clan of warriors and direct descendants from Lord Krishna.

It's just too much information for me. It’s hard enough trying to work out directions through some of Bangalore’s crazy roads (everything is a cross or a main here and it gets bloody confusing) let alone swallowing all this information.

I have in fact sat for a long time now wondering where my roots are from and have so longed and desired to learn about this. I wouldn’t say it’s become an obsession but with every passing day I have spent in India, it has grown. The greatest historian on this part no longer tells me the history. This great historian is my granddad, Vanraj Hansraj Sampat, a man who knew more about where we (my family or my caste or whatever you want to call it) came from then most economists can predict where we’re going in the current financial crisis. So vast was his knowledge, that you could pick any word, place or situation, and my grandfather would have a small yet important story attached to it.

But that history is too long and it’s too deep to go into, something which I know will take years of understanding. All I can say now is that it’s amazing to know that my surname (going back maybe 7 generations) was in fact “Rannwalla” – literarily denoting someone from the Rann of Kutch. But enough of the boring info about my past, I’ll save that all for the book!

Regardless of trying to understand my history, understanding the country behind the birth of such history is far more imperative, especially when you feel as though you have no attachment or understanding of it. In 2006, before I embarked on my Masters, I started to get this slight inking in my feeble mind to know more about this land called India, or as my grandfather would sometimes say, the “unknown home from home”. Well of course I disagreed with my grandfather on this opinion about the unknown home from home, because I'm British and proud of it, and growing up in a British-Indian household, one may eat Indian dishes, but you’re bought up with fundamental British values and ways, albeit Indian style. My father never forgot to tell me that we were British, always a timely reminder for any racist bigots that thought otherwise. But in understanding that Britishness that most South Asians associate with, we somehow forgot about our roots too. Of course not immedietly, but what I’m trying to say is that we focus so much on whats around us now, that we forget the situations that got us there in the first place. All I knew was that my parents were born in Africa, and my grandparents were born in India. Understanding why my parents grew up in Africa, why my grandparents grew up in India, and why I was born in Britain was something hard to chew. Effectively, my dad could come across with three identities. One day he was British, walking around with his Times newspaper and briefcase. The next day he was African, speaking to his school friends in Swahili and recollecting old tales from Kampala. And then on weekends he might be Indian – speaking in numerous languages (I’ve lost count of how many Indo languages he can actually speak) – most notably on subjects to do with business, cricket and anything associated with India. This, I must admit, I didn’t much appreciate at the time. I just wished he spoke in English and at times, I wish I had never known we could speak so many languages because English was the most important for me. Even though I knew my Indo languages were important, I never much appreciated them. Just imagine a 10 year old me playing football at school and I shout out for the ball from my teammate in Gujarati (ara ball pass karvanu che). Doesn’t really work right?

Me and my sisters have been lucky because we grew up modestly and my parents worked their socks off to turn away the bad associations associated with their torrid time with Idi Amin in the early 70’s. With £50 in his pocket, a political refugee from Uganda with nothing with him but his new gorgeous bride (that’s my mother I might add), my dad made it all the way and without him, I wouldn’t be here today, sitting in a cute studio flat in Bangalore, writing this post. Because life changed in that respect, we were lucky as children to be exposed to so many more things and geographically, this meant a lot. By the age of 6, I had visited Portugal, Spain, America and Canada (oh and I can’t forget Butlin’s and Pontin’s too!) The majority of kids of 6 years that I see in Bangalore probably haven’t even left the state of Karnataka, let alone Bangalore. Our holidays would normally be to the “nicer” places of the world, whatever one’s perception of “nicer” is, and rather strangely, India wasn't on that list.

The perception of India as a child was three things for me - "shit", "poverty" and "overcrowding". I might sound like the typical NRI now, but please don’t compare me to Russell Peters. It’s the truth. When I see myself admitting this to you, I feel ashamed that my opinions were so narrow minded. But I wasn't the only one who had this opinion. Many NRI buddies of mine would think the same thing. When a friend from my Year 8 class once announced that he was going India for the summer, the first thing I thought was "unlucky bastard", not because of all the negative connotations associated with India, but only because of the fact that I knew my summer was being spent in Torremolinos, a far attractive destination no less. Even now, opinions don’t seem to have changed all that much. I can still pick out an email that was sent to me one month before I embarked for India (around May 2008) from the same friend which read “Have fun, take lots of toilet roll and remember, the toilet will be your best friend”. He wasn't wrong. I have had fun, and at times, I have even gone as far as saying I love my toilet, dearly.

India for me and my sisters meant uniquely different things then what it meant for my parents. Women in sari's, kids our age without shoes and the smell of "shit" was the unfortunate label associated with the land of the “fresh” as me and college buddies once called it. I remember somebody getting married to a lady from India who had this funny accent and spoke no English and unfortunately had bad underarm odour. That one experience automatically made me think that everything and everyone from India smelt of bad odours, had a moustache and was retarded when it came to speaking English. How awful are stereotypes? Half the world’s major problems are down to stereotypes you know.

As we grew up, the connection with India was only through random relatives who visited us (half of whom I had no idea as to who they were and was told to either call them “Uncle” or “Auntie”). These relatives would go on for hours about how they remember me when I was a newborn baby, and how I look so much like my father (much to my disgust at the time), and then proceeded to blank me for the next 7 days they were staying in London because apparently someone told them that London had so many touristy things to do like see Buckingham Palace and visit Bond Street and Madam Tassauds, then listen to a spotty little teenager like me. It was as if me and my sisters didn’t exist after that. The talk of India was mentioned many times by these relatives, and when it came to “when are you next visiting”, the frowns all around the children’s faces obviously showed two things. Firstly, our perceptions of India must have been pretty bad and secondly, our parents had done no justice in trying to educate us on what India was about. The closest thing to anything Indian about us was our food (and I’m so glad it was!), my sisters clothes on the one off Hindu festival they would attend yearly, and finally, our names. I can’t blame my parents though. They wanted us to experience things when we were ready and not feed it down our throats, a route other parents think is the correct way to educate a child. I have no reservations. My first visit to India has come at the age of 24, and to all those doubters out in the big bad world, I’ve lived here for over a year now, an achievement beyond their wildest dreams. Before I set sail on my travels, I had at least 4 people telling me "You'll be back within 6 months", whilst some were more optimistic and suggested I'd return within a month.

I guess as we become more mature and we grow up to become aware of the cultures and societies around us, we learn to appreciate and look more closely at what the world has to offer. India for me is a new experience. I’m not blessed like others who have experienced it over and over again. Neither am I the hippy that goes to see some spiritual wack like Sadhguru and says “I found peace”. My experience is different. My experience is about a perception of a country that had so many negative connotations in my head that one day I decided that I had to get up and do something about it. People said things had changed, people said people had changed, India HAD changed. But how can I see if India has changed based on someone else’s words? I can read books, remember all those beautiful conversations with my grandfather in the wee hours of the morning, or just sit and live this experience like I’m doing now. There is no questions, and there is no answers to this timely question. All I can do is continue living it.

Join Ravin in Part 2 of "The Great Indian Paradox" as he writes about India since it's Independence and the challenges it still faces, available Friday September 4th at 12pm (GMT).

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Memoir 5: What now for Kasab?

2009-07-28T18:45:00.002+05:30

(Kasab outside the Cama Hospital moments before he was attacked by police officers)

Mohammad Ajmal Amir Kasabs' revalation in court last week has confused the Indian stance on punishment for the lone surviving terrorist of the Mumbai 26/11 attacks...

Mumbai/Bangalore - Tuesday 28th July 2009 - As swine flu takes its toll in the daily news round up (160 affected countries according to latest WHO estimates), the only news (literally) that is hitting the Indian newswires is that of the ongoing and rather confusing trial of an terrorist.

The photo that one will see at the beginning of my post still sends certain chills down my spine. In late November last year, this very photo was distributed throughout India and the world as Asia's greatest metropolis, Bombay (Mumbai), came under attack from what was assumed to be terrorists from Pakistan. Of course, for many days the Pakistani government denied this claim, until of course they confirmed that the lone surviving gunman was indeed a Pakistani national. With that news, the trial of Kasab has seen interest and conversation on the same scale as the USA engaged in during the famous murder trial of OJ Simpson. To the world, he is Mohammed Ajmal Amir Kasab, but in India, he is simply known as Kasab.

(Kasab at the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. The photographer later described how Kasab "walked as if no-one can touch him")

Dressed in an Versace sweather with an backpack full of weapons and explosives, AK 47 tightly clenched in his hand, Kasab became the face of the 26/11 attacks on the Taj, Oberoi and Nariman House targets. His face, caught menacingly from the Times of India photographer at the time of the attacks, is one of the most controversial in India. All agree that he is an "terrorist", and many Indians believe that the fact that he is an Pakistani doesn't actually change anything to do with his punishment because he murdered and caused great anxiety in the most audacious terror attack since the Parliament bombings of 2001. Instead, many believe that he deserves the death penalty for his actions. The strongest viewpoint has come from the families of the deceased police and commando officers who lost their lives in those attacks (some by the hands of Kasab).

Kasab, along with nine others (all dead) committed robbery, murder, terrorism, waging war on India, destabalising the government, kidnap etc etc according to some of the 86 charges against him. In May, Kasab had pleaded NOT GUILTY at his hearing, therefore ensuring that an long and tiring trial WOULD take place. However, in one of the most controversial events in Indian criminal proceedings history, Kasab changed his plea and uttered GUILTY last week. Pleading for the judge to hear him out, Kasab recounted his whole tale of events, adding in emotion when needed and in the end asking for the death penalty for his crimes. Taken by surprise (on both the Prosecutors and Defence side), Kasab's revelation changes everything in this trial and in India. Many were hoping for a long trial that would eventually end in Kasab's hanging. But things have changed on that front, because Kasab's new revelation means that the sting of the trial seems to have lost its purpose. The questions Indians are now asking themselves is whether the trial should continue, or whether, like he has pleaded, he should just be hanged.

(Kasab at the Arthur Road Prison one month after the attacks)

It's a precarious position for India and it's people. Many claim that by hanging him, he becomes a martyr. But I don't necessarily think it does. May be he becomes a martyr for those with the same ideology as him, and not, as some Indian analysts claim, for the whole Pakistani nation. We cannot sit and think that this guy is a product of the Pakistani people. Yes there is tension between the two neighbours, but the fact remains, one man's actions doesn't represent the view of the country. Just look at George W Bush and Tony Blair. Many in Britain and the USA didn't want the Iraq invasion to take place, and after 6 years of occupation, those voices still claim the same, that it was those leaders, and not the people of a nation.

It's also made me think that should ones view come into account? Should Kasab's view be counted as to his punishment? Whether he says he wants to die or wants to live is irrelevant - it's whether his view should be made relevant?

The BBC World Have Your Say programme started to debate Kasab's revelation on Thursday, and many callers said that India's penal code only gives a maximum life sentence of 14 years, not like the 200 years etc that some countries hand down as sentences (USA etc). In this case, is 14 years enough? What happens if he is told to rot in jail and left there for 14 years? Is that justice for the police officers, constables, ATS and commando's killed on the streets of Mumbai on 26/11? Is that justice for the law enforcement officers who died because they weren't provided with the right equipment to keep them safe? For the Indian state, the trial must continue, but for the families of those traumatised and those that died, the life sentence isn't enough, because for them, death is the only way forward.

But the great father of this nation, the Mahatma, once said that "a eye for a eye makes the whole world blind", and to be honest, he wasn't wrong. Taking Kasab's life doesn't necessarily brandish the ills of that fateful day. In fact, by taking his life now, India loses out on three fronts; firstly, it loses its only suspect to the attacks, a suspect they could use in many ways to understand the failures of that day and to understand why and how; secondly, Kasab provides the key to the door that is locked between Pakistan and India. By offering Kasab as bait, India can discuss issues that are long withstanding between the two nations. Pakistan no longer denies his nationality, and it is in there interest to put him on trial for the crimes he committed. This may be a show trial at first, but would eventually break barriers that Pakistan claims it's trying to break; thirdly and finally, by not killing Kasab, India can still project its image of the pacifist nation that won't be engaging in such trivial matters of such punishment. Kasab's face is a terrible sight for all, especially when you see the carnage that he performed, but by taking Gandhiji's words, keeping Kasab alive for a long sentence shows India's defiance in using law and order to tackle these issues. Taking a man's life for the events he systematically involved himself in doesn't necessarily mean justice. Justice for who?

Kasab is worth more dead than alive, because in this game of political chess with Pakistan, he plays the key in finally having some "normal" relations. India's court has to be more holistic because the law says it should be. Its a tough time for the nation, but once again, this country must look at history before it makes any decision with Kasab's fate.

I saw this quote in Friday's DNA newspaper, and it may be relevant here in this case -

Our ignorance of history causes us to slander our own times...

Ravin

Should the trial continue? Should Kasab be hanged at his will? What do you think? Leave your comments below...

Something to rant about? Are you in India and want to discuss something? Are you a Indian abroad with a viewpoint? Would you like to be a guest on Ravin's blog? You can contact him via email, twitter or phone.

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Memoir 4: Only in India...

2009-07-25T10:11:00.005+05:30

(Overcrowded Auto - picture courtesy of The Hindu)

This week I have invited a fellow member of the Bangalore's Writer Club, Anima Nair, to share her experiences of the wonderful sights one will see on the streets of India...

I read an article in today’s paper this morning. It described how an Air India flight was crammed beyond the allowed passenger limit. Apparently three extra passengers were accommodated in the cockpit and the folding seats which the crew used during take-off and landing. I couldn’t help smiling at that – this could only happen in India!

I know it’s dangerous and no laughing matter but the sheer idiocy of the whole thing gets to me. After all, we’ve all seen sights that defy description regularly on the roads in any Indian city. In Bangalore I have seen auto-rickshaws carrying up to 15 school-children in varying stages of compression. Little arms and legs poke out from every opening including the rear flap. Bags are draped on a pole by the side of the driver. The autos list precariously and the children grow up to be world-class contortionists. The driver crams in so many kids simply in order to make a profit. But how do the parents allow this atrocity? Even walking the treacherous roads of Bangalore at the risk of being mowed down by irate motorists or washed away during a sudden downpour that engorges a non-existent drainage system might be preferable to travelling so dangerously in the death trap that is an overcrowded auto-rickshaw.

I have frequently seen families of five going on a two-wheeler. The father’s driving of course. In front is the eldest child of perhaps seven years or so. Behind father is sandwiched the two middle ones of five and three years and last comes mother with a little infant held to her side. I have even seen the mother miraculously managing to hold both baby and a cell phone to her husband’s ear while the scooter or bike navigates some of the most pothole ridden roads in the world! It makes me wonder if our most expendable resource is our children since their safety seems to be of no concern to parents or anyone else.

Another common sight is people spilling out of buses and even hanging on to the ladder at the back. The city governing body does need to provide more buses on the routes that are busier but the risk taken by a huge percentage of the populace in this insane manner everyday is unwarranted. Even sardines packed in a tin are better off – they, at least, don’t hang out of the damn tin!

So it wasn’t surprising to find that a lady had been accommodated in the cockpit while two others sat on the crew’s seats. I wonder when people will be allowed to stand and travel on flights while hanging on to straps. I have seen small children sitting in their parent’s laps and turning the steering wheel during drives through the city. This is not because they are poor or for lack of space – this is because their parents are arrogant enough and rich enough to feel that rules don’t apply and are sure that their offspring can drive right from birth. So probably the next article would be about someone being allowed to sit on the pilot’s lap for lack of space or perhaps a rude, stinking rich parent of a spoilt brat insisting that his child should be allowed to fly the plane because he wants to...as I said it can happen only in India.

Anima

Did you like this? You can view more of Anima's thoughts at http://animasmusings.blogspot.com

Something to rant about? Would you like to be a guest on Ravin's blog? You can contact him via email, twitter or phone.

Follow Ravin on Twitter - http://twitter.com/ravinsampat

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Memoir 3: The Computer

2009-06-28T15:02:00.007+05:30

(My landlord and his niece and nephew with the new computer)

Join Ravin as he goes back and forth through the year to bring you extracts of his experiences...

In the next few days - Ravin will release "Sitting at Terminal 5" - the moments before he finally left London, but for now, read his piece on when his landlord got a computer.

Wednesday 31st June - Marenahalli - Somebody, I don't know who, but somebody (god do I sound like Russell Peters now) said that there was a recession.

Recession? Are you sure?

I don't think in India the word "recession" can actually exist. Indians, wherever they may be, are tight naturally! It's a common notion amongst the Indian community that we are known to be tighter than the Jewish community when it comes to matters of spending and money saving. These, of course, are very stereotypical views but I'm in a stereotypical kind of mood.

I can't actually disagree that we seem to be not only the most money conscious but we're definitely the most tightest. It's a inbuilt gene. No wonder so many Indians make up the world's rich list. You've only got to look at the top 10 and there is two! Even within the Indian community, there is tightness associated with certain groups. Its a widely based assumption that Marwadi's, Gujarati's and Sindhi's are tight! There is a funny old joke here in India - "How do you get 100 Marwadi's into a Maruti Suzuki? Chuck a 100 rupee note inside".

But funnily enough, the word recession is being used in many ways here. When I was previously working for my previous employer, the meetings that I had with big CEO's and Head's of Marketing normally ended with a nice goodbye and "sorry, its recession you see". I have to point out that I love the way recession is said too, with the "c" and "s" glorified to make it sound like the Great Depression. Once the head of a company that built megastar malls said to me "See Ravin, there is this reCeSSion. It's reCeSSion. See, it's a reCeSSion you see", with his head bobbling left to right, and me doing the same, agreeing with him, my head bobbling too in a rather more confused manner however.

But anyway, back to the point - recession - well in India, the only ones that are effected are the CEO's and the rather rich. You see, these rich guys, even if they've saved crores of money, find it harder to see their Rupees used abroad because of the change in exchange rates and the fact that the rupee takes them nowhere. Instead, if your living outside India, now is the best time to come and visit, because you will get more for your money. The common admi however, well, it seems to me that he/she doesn't seem to be affected. The recession isn't effecting the coconut seller that comes parading down my street with at least 40 coconuts attached to his bike. People still buy them. And the recession doesn't effect my hairdresser, because people still want to be looking their best, and his haircut prices have actually gone down for no reason he tells me (when I arrived it was 50 rupees, now its 40 rupees - not bad for a haircut that is costing me 50p. For £1.20p I get a head massage too!).

Recession is also a new term in India, from what I've noticed. Okay I'm no economist and neither am I an accountant ( I leave that job to my father who does it as an profession), but whenever I have a conversation with the "common" man - and believe me, with over a billion people, the common man is what makes this country tick - the word recession is relatively new. The other day ( I lied its actually two months ago) I was talking to my landlord and he said my rent will increase by 200 rupees every month from September. I asked why. He looked at me. He looked confused. Then he said something in Kannada, to which I replied back in Kannada "Gotila" (which means "i don't know") and then he spoke in his rather strange English (which is really funny because he sounds like one of those guys who's trying to speak English to me because he thinks I'm some representative of Her Majesty's government) and said "Recession". I looked at him and said "what?!" He laughed and said "Recession". I asked him if he knew what it meant. He said "No, but the Times of India keeps talking about it".

The media influence has caused the common man to be somewhat worried about this random word called "recession", when no one actually knows what it means. All they read is that "the market is down" without actually thinking what the implications are. Of course, I cannot sit here and generalise about everyone, but I only have these thoughts based on what is around me.

Anyway, a few weeks after this conversation with my landlord, I was walking past his office ("BR Enterprises - a name that spells trust" - reads his board) after coming out the gym. I walked as normal to my flat but I saw at least 10 people in his office causing a stir. Loud voices in Kannada, lots of men in "Shirt-Pant" - the favoured clothing choice for the Indian man - and so much commotion made me stop. There, amongst the many people gathered in the office was a brand spanking new computer. With a slick flat screen, black keyboard and mouse, and speakers that matched any owned by my friends, my landlord had decided to "invest" in something new. The men looked interested but I was more amazed that a man was conducting prayers for the new technology that had found its way into my landlords office. With a steel tray and red tilaka pot, he was blessing the computer whilst all the men stood up, tika plastered on their foreheads, preying to some sort of Hindu god named "Samsung", no less.

I asked how he managed to afford this PC, and he told me that he got a bank loan and was repaying a thousand rupees a month.

(The front of my landlords office - which is on the ground floor of my apartment building)

The commotion went even further because all the men realised I was the tech savvy one, and so they all sat me down (and trust me all I wanted to do was shower in this belting heat) and asked me to show them stuff on the new computer. Three hours went by and I managed to show him WORD, Paint and some cool little tricks for shortcuts. The other men, who just stood there, looked over the screen but just wondered what was going on and instead decided to do what they do best - drink water, speak loudly, and unfortunately, scratch their balls in public.

(Me telling one of the guys - Ramesh - to stop scratching his balls)

Over the last few weeks than, I have been visiting my landlord more frequently (mainly at about 10pm) and showing him new things on the computer. These little lessons have given me a great insight into why he spent so much money (borrowed money) on a computer. He told me that one day a guy came into his shop and asked for a Hindi song for a ringtone (as well as being a real estate office, BR Enterprises also does mobile recharge, gets you taxi's and sells mobile phones). My landlord replied that he didn't know how to do that. The guy who came in explained one could have MP3's of songs that could then be sent to mobiles and used as ringtones as well as adding hours of fun because the tune would then be played by the user whenever they wanted to hear music. Of course my landlord fogged off this idea entirely, but after much deliberation, his impulse told him to buy a state of the art computer, get music, and then sell each MP3 for 10 rupees! Now if that isn't entrepreneurialship, I don't know what is!

Even if the word recession is relatively unknown to the common man, examples of locals investing money back into their business is what keeps India going. They may not know the full extent of the recession, but all over my area and Bangalore, small to medium businesses are trying out new methods just when the world seems in dire straits and big companies (like Satyam, AIG) are folding like a pack of cards.

What strikes me is the energy and positive thinking that people like my landlord put into what they're doing. His investment in a computer has already brought some fruitful rewards for him, and now he thinks getting an Internet connection is the next step up. I'd like to add, he has already cheekily asked me if he can share my net connection. And of course I said "No", especially when he told me that I'd naturally be paying for it.

In the last month, he has moved more real estate, managed to perfect Excel properly and has even gone as far as starting his MP3 business. When he's not busy doing these things, I see him intently looking at the computer screen with four men around him looking just as constipated as he. When I walk in to see whats the devotion to the screen about, I realise that it's his highest score in Spider Solitaire and everyone is wondering how he did it.

In the end, in times of need and desperation, when the world is crying about recession, with people losing jobs left, right and centre, its nice to see someone that has defined my year in India in so many ways, making his own moves. I may be the NRI from the land of fruits (not literally, but for locals, by Britishness is an honour to have in their area), at the end of the day, I want to applaud my landlord for keeping it real. If I am the NRI Prince of JP Nagar II Phase, he surely is the Maharajah, wouldn't you say?

Ravin

P.s. I asked again why the increase of 200 Rupees in rent. He told me it's because he's got to pay his loans for the computer back :)

Memoir 2: Leaving Home...

2009-06-28T12:30:00.004+05:30

(The massacre I caused at home in the beautiful London suburb of Pinner)

1 year on, my memory serves me well. Here is a diary extract I wrote a year ago...

June 29th 2008

Sitting in my parents room, my suitcase all over my parents bed, my clothes scattered all over the floor. It looks like a massacre has occurred. The multicolour arrangement of clothes and things that I probably don't need look more like I'm packing Joseph's Technicolour dream coat into my bag. British Airways, that trusted airliner, said one could take 25kg, but at the moment, it looks like I got at least 40kg! Hm..what to delete from the very neat arrangement Pooja [older sister] has made of my bag. Well I can't take the gifts out for the family I have never met. I mean, that's just rude! Books - I've taken 4. Okay am I really going to read all of them? Yeah I probably will, so no to that! Boxers - I've taken 10! Why 10? Underwear is apparently cheap in India...three hours till my flight and all I'm thinking about is damn Chaddie's!

Ah sod it. I'll think of something.

1 hour later....

Hmm...I've just had to stuff lots of yogurt and sugar down my throat. Apparently its a good luck tradition, My mums been doing this to me since god knows. Before my GCSE's and A levels she did it, before I left for University she did it, before I started my MA she did it, and now not knowing when she's going to see me again, she's decided that EVERY one in my family (all 4 of them) must stuff it down my throat!

I've quickly looked around the house to say bye to every room. My mum has even made me say bye to the rabbit too. Apparently it has feelings. Well what about my feelings? The rabbit never consoled me after Arsenal lost to Liverpool in the Champions League! Well anyway, I'll say bye to her, although I think she's more interested in her lunch...

The bags are in the car, all 40kg of them, and I'm ready to go...my sister Shreena refuses to drop me to the airport. It's too emotional for us. Instead we embrace and just hold one another for about 3 minutes in complete silence whilst the rest of my family look on. She pulls away and finally says "Go now smelly boy, you smell too much I can't breathe anymore!".

Time to leave for the airport. Bye Pinner. Hello Terminal 5....

Mumbai Mike

2009-06-27T14:59:00.007+05:30

(Jackson and dancers parade the India flag in Mumbai - 1996)

India’s love for MJ lives through his memorable Mumbai performance 13 years ago

I tried avoiding writing about Michael Jackson but it’s rather hard when people around you are mourning him. My landlord, just moments after I came out of the gym saw me across the road and held the paper near me and said “Michael Jaaaaaackson is dead huh?” (he extends his “A’s”).

It was around 2:38am on Friday morning (around Thursday, 10pm GMT) that I got a text from my best and closest friend Kunal in London. He tried to be smooth and calm when informing me of the death of Michael Jackson in true Mafia style. My phone went off and I scrambled to find it, hidden somewhere between my futon and the pillow I had decided to throw on the floor. I opened the message, eyes squirming, only to read “Jacko sleeps with the fishes! I can’t believe it! It’s the biggest thing ever!”

At first I felt like cursing him for waking me up, but as the morning drew in and I heard the tomato hawker screaming about his fresh tomatoes, I turned my laptop on to see news coverage all over the net. “World mourns King of Pop’s death” was the BBC headline. I couldn’t believe it and I felt that rather strange feeling in my stomach. As with any Jacko fan, hearing something like this is easier to reject than accept. It’s like selective hearing you see.

So on my way to school (I work 5 hours a day at a Montessori for 2-6 year olds) I blasted MJ on my iPod and felt as though the King of Pop was very much alive until I walked past my hairdresser. He came running out of his shop and shouted “MJ finished. Expired”. It sounded more like he was talking about some product that was past its sell by date or something. You only had to see the many twitter updates to see that many felt Jackson’s career ended in 2001.

Sitting in the auto reading the paper, my auto driver turned to me and said “Jackson khatham hogay ai” (Jackson is finished). I looked up at him and we started a small conversation about the King of Pop and he described how Jackson’s dancing had influenced many South Indian movie stars like Chiranjeevi and Rajnikanth, who have used depictions of MJ dancing themselves in many of their movies.

Even when I had reached the school, one of the children came up to me and said “Michael Jackson died”. I looked at her and wondered how a 4 year old even knew about MJ, even when he had been out of much of the media limelight for so many years. When he had been, well, that was all negative publicity wasn’t it? “Who told you this?” I asked. “My father. He likes his music. I saw videos of him too and I listened sometimes”, she replied. This only made me think that Jacko was for all ages – not just those from his generation.

Open this morning papers and Nokia has decided to pay a fitting tribute to Michael Jackson by having a banner placed under the Times of India logo stating “Michael, Your Music Will Play On”. I turn to the DNA newspaper, and again Nokia has decided to put the ad there too. The reaction in India has been very emotional because he had a big impact on music lovers here. A lot of Indian bars that I have frequented since my year here often played Michael Jackson tunes, and sometimes inbetween a Bollywood track and a hip hop track, the DJ would just randomly throw in Billie Jean when it had no significance at all! But that is the beauty of Billie Jean – it can be played anytime, regardless of the place.

(This mornings Times of India)

MJ in India was a big phenomenon, known as the “Maharaja (King) of Pop”. One of my co-workers told me accounts of the reaction to Jackson when he first arrived in India in 1996 and performed at the Andheri Sports Complex in Mumbai. Traffic jams, too many people and lots of screaming and whistling (the usual chaos) ensued, as Jackson arrived at Mumbai airport to be greeted by Bollywood star Sonali Bendre, clad in traditional Maharashtrian (Indian State – Maharashtra) nine yard saree, performing the aarti and tilak for Michael at the airport, where he was quite taken up by the entire ceremony. When he was being driven out of the airport in his 20-car motorcade, he stopped his Toyota, got rid of his security guards and stepped out to meet the urchins lined up along the highway to catch a glimpse of him. He picked up several children and hugged and kissed them. He then spent a few minutes with them before he proceeded to the now infamous and instigator of much political violence in Mumbai, Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray’s residence in Bandra East. I don’t know what Thackeray’s moral position was then, but the fact Jackson went to meet him only makes one think of how strong “connections” are in India. Shobha De (a writer) once claimed to the media that “Shaking hands with him [Jackson not Thackeray] was like an orgasm” as Jackson met Bollywood A-listers in the Oberoi hotel (most recently famous for the 26/11 attacks). Even now, my friend can recall that they could hear Jackson’s concert some kms’ away, and of course they would, for wherever Jackson went, noise was sure to follow by the thousands who paid to see him. Memories of Mumbai ’96 are plastered all over the net and it seems as though his visit to Mumbai was for ALL of India, not just that city as my next door neighbour recalls his own town of Mangalore going crazy with Jackson’s arrival in a city far away.

(Brothers in Arms - Jackson with Bal Thackeray)

The whole day, radio stations changed their playlists and played MJ songs in between other regular tracks. Bangalore’s Radio Indigo even managed to slip in “Knockin on Heaven’s Door” for a tribute to the King.

I wonder if MJ is in a better place now. The world has reacted very emotionally, and only yesterday Amazon.co.uk recorded the highest sales for the “Off the Wall” album, making it the most bought album online. The iStore too claimed that Jackson song sales had increased dramatically following the news of his death.

(Thackeray gifts Jackson)

The world reaction to Jackson’s death has seen an outpouring of grief and tears at the drama behind the King of Pop’s final demise. Even though questions are still being asked about his “doctor”, one mustn’t forget the impact Jackson had on the music world. Obviously there has been a mixed reaction to the death, and yesterdays World HaveYourSay programme on the BBC World Service showed this mixture of feelings. Some callers cried and claimed that listening to Jackson had given them hope and opportunity to listen to music that was banned in their country so many years ago (most notably the Arab world). Others claimed listening to Jackson had given them the most pleasurable music experience, but quite a few claimed they neither cared of his death or his music and instead too much attention was given to MJ’s last moments. Unfortunately, I’m in the camp where I feel we should celebrate his music. I grew up listening to MJ and even when I listened on my iPod to Billie Jean on my way to work on Friday morning, that starting beat which gives you that image in your mind of Michael lifting his hips up and down still sent a smile to my face.

(Jackson through the streets of Mumbai)

The King may be gone, but I realise in India his soul lives on in the dance moves of Bollywood actors and local actors like Chiranjeevi. Much of the local admi get their inspiration from regional stars like these, and one mustn’t forget that these stars got their inspirations from one of the greatest performers, musicians and dancers of all time.

Whether you loved him or loathed him, nothing takes away the fact that his music was legendary; it broke boundaries; it bought the world together.

MJ may be gone, but his music will make sure he lives on.

Ravin :)

Pictures courtesy of clubmj.com - official Michael Jackson fan club of India

Some famous MJ quotes courtesy of http://www.goaltribe.com/blog/2009/10-best-michael-jackson-quotes/:

My goal in life is to give to the world what I was lucky to receive: the ecstasy of divine union through my music and my dance.
- Michael Jackson

If you enter this world knowing you are loved and you leave this world knowing the same, then everything that happens in between can be dealt with. - Michael Jackson

In a world filled with anger, we must still dare to comfort. In a world filled with despair, we must still dare to dream. – Michael Jackson

The meaning of life is contained in every single expression of life. It is present in the infinity of forms and phenomena that exist in all of creation.
- Michael Jackson

Contact Me

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Email @ sampat.ravin@gmail.com

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Memoir 1 - The Road...

2009-06-19T17:28:00.000+05:30

(24th Main Road - JP Nagar 2nd Phase - picture courtesy of MyBangalore)

June 29th will mark Ravin's One Year anniversary of living in India. Join him every day as he goes through his memoirs of his "Passage to India".

I remember vividly about three weeks ago, I went down my apartment stairs to the road for my customary walk. Customary to those who know me here, not so customary for those around the world.

My main road, 22ND Main Road as it is known, isn't really famous for anything. Well, there is the renowned RV Dental College, but that seems more of a tool for people to use as an landmark when directing autowalla's to this area. India works on landmarks you see. You can't possibly get anywhere by telling someone "2ND Main, Indiranagar". They would ask what the nearest landmark is! Even my address has an landmark, "The Good Bakery". Its for convenience I guess.

And so I went on this walk, past my barber named Guru (and let me tell you he is a Guru when he gives me my weekly head massage), past the rather obese Gujarati Uncle, Kalpesh, at the stationary shop (who I might add likes to ask me everything that's going on in my life and is a little nosey), down past the laundrette (33 RS for 1kg of clothing) and upon taking the second left, you reach my road - 2nd Cross. I live in JP Nagar. JP, I wondered for many months, was some abbreviation for something I could never find out, until I googled it and realised it was named after an Indian Freedom Fighter (or rather terrorist if your looking at the pre-independence opinion) called Jaya Prakesh Narayan. This is India. Names of its famous fathers and those who have touched the nation make up the street names. Anil Kumble (famous Indian cricketer) has a circle named after him just off MG Road in the central commercial part of town. Oh, MG I might add, well that's named after Mahatma Gandhi, heard of him I'm sure?

(2nd Cross - My Road - everyday either someone will shout about tomatoes, coconuts or even food containers they have for sale)

Now my road is special. It's special because not only does EVERYONE know one another (and each others business no doubt), but the everyone "takes care" of one another. Once I didn't have change for the auto so I ran to my bakery - Iyenagars - got change, but instead of running back to the auto with all my stuff, I gave the bakery guy all my things which included my bag, washing, and some shopping. He happily put them in his little shop and continued serving customers. He doesn't even know my name - he just knows my face. Sometimes we laugh with one another. Sometimes he's too bloody moody. Sometimes he just sits and reads his paper.

My next door neighbour, on the other hand, would disagree at all this friendliness that occurs in my area. He hates the area and feels that everyone just wants to know what the other is doing. I think he failed to add that we as Indians, whether as the diaspora or resident, have this in our genes. If an Indian is walking on the streets in any country, and another Indian spots him/her, the Indian who did the spotting automatically assumes they might know them. The same happens in India. Even with 1.6 billion, Indians still think they may "know" you. And of course, this has happened to me because for the first two months of moving into my flat, no-one knew me. The street would look at me weirdly, well anyone would. I have tattoos, an iPod blasting Bob Dylan, baggy ripped jeans, but more importantly, I walked differently, spoke differently and I guess looked different altogether. That difference over time, created an interest and now I can't walk down this street without 65% of its shopkeepers, landlords and staff waving at me. Some know my name; some know my name but call me Robin; some just wave; some just smile; some just stare; but they ALL know me.

I find it interesting that one can go on year after year not knowing who or what their neighbours are, but within the space of 2 months, I got to know everyone. Now some people could say that this is because of the nature of my friendliness. I disagree. It may have a part to do with it, but at the same time, this is also to do with the nature of the people here. Sometimes the nosey parker attitude can be thoroughly annoying, but when done gracefully, it brings a smile to your face. So many people here, like my landlords brother, who speaks NO English, will consistently ask me whether I have eaten my lunch, dinner etc. Thats all he asks. Even when I haven't eaten, sometimes I just say I do, because not eating would probably cause too much interest as to why I haven't!

My road means a lot to me. It means so much to me that I'm currently working on a short story novella based on the people and experiences of this road, but even that I'm sure wouldn't do the justice that it deserves.

I know one day, when I feel the time is right, I'll have to move out of this flat and either rent somewhere else or buy my own place. Either way, just thinking about it makes me sad. I reflect back on this amazing year and journey that I've had, and nothing, absolutely nothing, can take away the fact that this road has shaped my India. When I walk down the road, I can smile knowing that everyone is smiling with me. Some call me Ravin Subhash for fun, some shout out Sampat! But whatever they call me or think of me, I know that 22nd Main Road isn't just any other road in India - its the road where this journey continues.

Finally, I just remembered a little story I'd like to share. When I arrived on this road, a new child was born in the flats across my apartment. For 1 year I didn't know his name or his families because it wasn't of interest to me. Only one month ago I found out that this family was from Goa, they spoke Konkani, and the child - well, his name is Sampath (South Indians add "H" to everything) - and his fathers name is Subhash. And of course I laughed because my Dad's name is Subhash and my surname is Sampat (without the "H"). Now every time his sister says hi to me she says to her little brother "Look Sampath its Sampath". I can't help but laugh and even I get in on the act and say "Hi Sampath". His nickname is Sampoo. Sometimes I feel like they are calling me! Coincidence? Probably. Fate. It may well be.

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Email @ sampat.ravin@gmail.com

The poem of all poems...

2009-05-01T01:21:00.010+05:30

(India - The Story so far - A selective collage of my times here)

Singapore - Wednesday 29th April - So yesterday (29th April) was my birthday. The big 2 and the 5 - (25 to be precise), although 2 + 5 makes seven which can sometimes be the mental age that I sometimes act! (all of us have a child in us). A friend of mine, an NRI like me (though she was born in India so I guess shes actually a Overseas Indian) wrote me a poem for my birthday. I thought it would be a fitting tribute to her and my blog to share it with you all. I think its an excellent take on me in this land that was once so foreign to me, yet is slowly feeling like a home from home.

You always wondered what was there

Snuggled up in that warm wooden chair

Imagining the sounds, the colors and the smells

As deeper and deeper into the story your grandfather dwelled

Was it true?

Were there always elephants and clothes the color of the most royal blue?

Did the peacocks sing the sweetest song flirting with the rain god?

Did it really smell, a deep pungent smell, the familiar smell of all the “gujju – bhens”?

Was it as romantic as they said it would be?

Is there a part of you that now feels more complete?

It is only the beginning of a story to be written.

Of a country that you can always call home

Of a journey that had to be done

Of people, places, sights and sounds that defines your life

Of a discovery towards enlighten

As you now sit on your wooden chair

In a lungi for a free flow of air

Please do remember that at 25, you are almost there

With a story that has to be shared

Happy Birthday Mr. Sampat, I hope your first birthday in India is as what you want it to be!!

By Nayantara Pani

(Your thoughts and opinions are truly welcomed. You can leave a message on the comments box below, or alternatively you can send in your own moments of writing bliss that you would like posted on my blog for the world to see. Remember, this isn't just about my travels and journeys through India, this is about you too).

Ravin :)

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Email @ sampat.ravin@gmail.com

India Votes - Expose 3: When money does the talking

2009-04-23T16:19:00.011+05:30

(The cartoon above is an example of everyday occurrences in India. If your travelling without papers or your helmet, you can easily be charged. Although for a smaller fee, you can escape punishment altogether)

Campaigning using an auto rickshaw was just one of the unique ways this election is being conducted. But over light conversation, I managed to get an insight into the truth of how some "votes" are banked...

HSR Layout - Bangalore - "It was hush-hush though, but an open and transparent secret", says Jeetabarta. "The senior leaders paid the probable voters". "Whats the probable voters?" I asked. "Those people who wanted money would never go to the booth straight away to vote. They would hover around the area looking for workers who were desperately hunting for votes and promoting rampantly. These workers were loaded and when they met those scums (those hovering waiting to vote), they would hand the cash out, secretly of course and then those that hovered, all paid and happy, would go and cast their vote with whoever the workers asked them to vote for".

Jeetabarta looked angry, but composed, but I sensed his anger was shared by millions of other Indians in this vibrant yet quite clearly, corrupt democracy. "They didn't give a s*it about who will rule and blah blah. They got money for a few drinks and some food that's it. And there are a lot of these kinds. The rate fluctuates - it increases when time is running out and so on. It was one big drama. I just watched from the crowd".

The words of my fellow colleague is just an small insight into how "special" tactics are used by some politicians and their parties to gain more votes. In India, its simply not enough to have a strong amount of grassroots support. There is a group of the nation - what I like to term the "don't vote, don't care crowd" that would probably sell their own mother for a extra rupee. Without seeing the repercussions of what voting can do for your country, and even better, your own predicament, these bands of people continue to plague Indian politics. But it's not their fault when the incentives on offer from those that are supposed to be elected to office with your authority, try and buy these people out. Corruption in India is like traffic lights in England - it just keeps turning red.

If anything, Jeetabarta's words echoed much of what I had heard from my grandfather and father over the years. India, with all its vastness and greatness, is one big political mess when it comes to elections. But what would be regarded as scandalous in most western democracies is quite frankly "acceptable" in India.

Narayan, the "helpwalla" so to speak, at my former office, told me a few weeks back that he would be leaving for a day to vote in his home state, Andhra Pradesh, in the April 23rd, Phase II elections. Out of interest I asked who he would be voting for, and why. He replied, in his rather squeaky, almost feminine voice, that he would be voting Congress. His family, he said, had always voted Congress. However, he went on to add, the BJP workers had given him and the people from his village 200 rupees each to entice them and make sure they vote for BJP. You may think 200 rupees is nothing, but that can feed a man for 5 days. I was amazed. A political party, aiming to take governance, had been buying votes off the common "admi", who even without the slightest bit of political inclination or acumen, simple takes the money and votes without knowing what they are voting for. I guess the irony is that the BJP gave him and many others (possibly thousands) tip-offs, only for them to go and vote the direct opposite with Congress.

Money is definitely doing the talking, and many newspapers have reported of police raids on offices and premises that house lots of unlicensed liquor and lakhs of funds that were being channeled out by political parties for the electorate. In an recent investigation by the Electoral Commission, it was claimed parties were enticing voters by giving them vouchers that they could trade at the local liquor store. These stores or bars are staunch supporters of the political parties and probably receive their own backhanders to carry out such incentives.

In today's India, much like yesterdays, I guess its still a case of money talks. Whether it's making sure the police don't fine you for driving without a helmet, whether it's to quicken a bureaucratic process, or whether its to ensure your vote is rewarded, the rupee is still the common variable. Well of course of it is, we Indians (at home and abroad) have always been good with money, haven't we?

Jeetabarta believes that the "dirt starts from ground zero, from polling itself". Corruption, in his opinion, is not a factor only for the politicians, but the people are deeply involved some way too. "Some people are aware, some unaware. It's just a matter of how much dough is taken and at what stage. Those in higher positions get the cheese whereas the lower settle for the crumbs".

One shouldn't be surprised then that when the eagerly-awaited election results come out in May, the money spent by parties and groups to entice voters will be a rather high figure. Even with these tactics, it was sad to see that my local constituency, Bangalore South, only recorded an 45% (depends what paper you read) voter turnout.

Money may talk, and voters may (or may not) turn up, but this election is slowly becoming an lesson in how to fail the electoral process.

Stay tuned as Ravin updates his election thoughts. If you've got a comment to make, or want something to add, please free to use the comments section at the end of each blog post.

India Votes - Expose 2: Bangalore Votes

2009-04-23T10:55:00.002+05:30

(An auto rickshaw dons a megaphone and the Indian flag. I later waited for the rick to pass to find that the driver was promoting Congress, just one of the many unique ways campaigning has taken place in these elections)

As the second round of polling takes place in my part of town, I wondered what the average "admi" wanted politicians to do for them.

Bangalore - Thursday 23rd April - The weather in this city is slowly turning into London rains. You know the rains that don't stop, they just continue, with that gush of wind that seems to always turn your umbrella upside down? As much as Bangalore's random weather keeps changing - one moment with glaring sunshine, the next with heavy rain and overpowering wind - one can't help but notice that the change in weather may be a sign of some sort that change is coming in this city.

Today is the second phase of polling in the Indian elections, but more importantly, this is the chance for my constituency, Bangalore South, to put its name on the map and ensure politicians know what they want done in their area. Voters in the states of Andhra Pradesh, Assam, Bihar, Goa, Jammu and Kashmir, Karnataka, Madhya Pradesh, Maharashtra, Orissa, Tripura, Uttar Pradesh and Jharkhand are going to the polls today. Polling for one seat in tiny Manipur in the north-east took place on Wednesday.

I was a little surprised that my area, JP Nagar, wasn't even on the voting registrar on Karnataka's online database guide of "where to vote" depending on your area. The newspapers say my area comes under Jayanagar, but I wonder how many local people know that. I've been told by somebody that for the last 5 years, she hasn't been able to pay property tax because on the Internet there is no information as to where the office is where she should pay. Her answer - "How can we pay property tax when there isn't even a property for the tax people to accept the payments from?" Where to vote? Where to pay tax? This is an example of the very complex India and inadequacies associated with it.

India is a strange democracy. It works in so many ways, yet can be annoying in so many other ways. I asked my uncle last night, who owns a electrical wholesalers business in one of the main shopping complexes of Bangalore (Jayanagar 4th Block), whether he'd be voting. "Of course", he says all smiles, "but it just depends if they haven't forgotten my name on the list. Sometimes you turn up with your voters ID card and your name isn't there. What to do?"

Names on lists? Surely his name must be registered, because he has voted so many times over the years. "No it doesn't work like that, this is India, its complicated". How annoying would that be, to ensure your name was on a list? Makes me think that voting is much easier in London. Your names always on a list. Here, it just seems as though your hoping that your names on a list!

Knowing what people want is another interesting factor. I went to see my landlord, who was surrounded by a dozen or so men in his office, each with pop bellies gossiping in Kannada about something or other, to ask what he wanted politicians to do. He just looked at me blankly. This was nothing to do with the fact that my Hindi was crap, because quite frankly, its actually better than his because he only speaks the local language so well. I asked again, and his answer in his very funny, broken, almost "I'm trying to speak English to impress you Ravin" was - "JP Nagar area good. BJP make area good". Well okay then fair enough. But why the BJP? "BJP good. Good people. BJP na mara family long history hai". So was he voting because his family had a long history of voting for the BJP or was it because he didn't know anything better?

Voting in India is down to loyalties, but its also down to many other things. Of course, ethnic tensions play into this too, and I spoke to a couple of guys who told me they wouldn't vote the current Congress Party because they are too "friendly with Muslims". Hmm. In a country so diverse as India, being a party for all admi is important, but basing ones vote on tensions such as the Hindu-Muslim thing is quite scary. I thought India had moved on from that, but quite clearly, I don't think it ever will.

I finally wanted to know the opinion of my hairdresser. Whilst he prepared oil for my face massage, I asked him what he thought and who he would vote for. "I can't vote. It means going pretty far back home, at least 5 hours from here. I'm not going to close the business for that. It's a shame, but business counts more".

All in all, Indians want change, they want something new, and the election commission says that voter turnout will increase this time around. I'm convinced it will, but with such administrative problems like voter registration and the hassles involved in voting, I wonder if that will make any difference at all. How can change come when people aren't willing to make changes to the electoral and voting process themselves? Voting should be a honour, a right, but from what I see, its just an inconvenience.

Stay tuned this week as Ravin looks at some recent election techniques that parties are using to entice voters

India Votes - Expose 1: The election in numbers

2009-04-13T00:48:00.006+05:30

As the election process starts to take centre stage, I will be doing a series of reports on what’s happening in and around India as election fever takes charge of the world’s largest democracy.

Bangalore - Monday 13th April, 2009 - The BBC World Service - that great and trusted friend of the Brit abroad and most people that just need to know what’s happening anywhere else in the world – recently disappointed me when it gave only 2 minutes to an event that is quite clearly, very significant. When you consider that India is under threat from terrorists, has weakened relations with its neighbour Pakistan (which itself is in rather dire straits), and is a significant player in global politics, you would expect that any change on its political landscape would be of interest to all. But then maybe I’m biased because I have Indian heritage and I currently reside here. But even if that wasn’t the case, it has become surprising to me that most Western media agencies have tended to cut short on the Indian political debate. Yesterday I was flicking through the online editions of the New York Times, The Guardian, The Independent and the Daily Telegraph, and found that only one of these newspapers (The Independent) had decided to have a major feature article on the upcoming election.

If you didn’t already know, this week, the world’s largest democratic election exercise will take place in India, the world’s largest democracy. Spread out over five phases (due to the sheer electorate participation and size of the country), mid-May will see the announcement of a new government (one never knows), new Prime Minister (maybe), and new angle for Indian politics (hopefully).

Every election, my Indian colleagues and friends tell me, the same promises are made, the same mistakes made. But having lived here for 10 months, there is something uniquely different about this election. People want change, they want fresh blood, but above all, they want accountability. I guess the change in the wind came from the election of Barack Obama in the US Presidential elections. Indians, seeing an ethnic minority, black candidate take the top seat in the White House, have felt inspired that they too can see more change in their own country. The “change” that Indians want is quite diverse, but it’s clear that they want some form of change, as 41 million more electorate registrations have taken place since the 2004 election.

The election is very important in many respects, not only for the 1.5 billion Indians, but also for the world too. India has played a very important role in world politics, the South Asia region, and since the liberalisation of its economy to FDI (foreign direct investment) in the early 1990’s, its power as a major contributor to the G20 has been paramount.

But this election is fast becoming the most important election in the history of India’s 60 years of operation, not least because for the last 4 years, India has endured so many testing encounters that Nehra’s once famous “Tryst with Destiny” seems to be reinventing itself all over again. When a country mad about cricket decides that it must cancel its national cricket league from taking place at the time of elections, one would know the importance placed behind this decision. The elections matter, and for the first time in Indian electoral history, everyone is taking notice.

In one month’s time, the most important decisions by the electorate will be presented before us all. May will be the month for India’s reawakening, India’s moment of change. For 1.5 billion Indians and the world, let’s hope its India’s finest hour.

The Election in Numbers

714,000,000 voters have registered

6,100,000 security and civil personnel are on election duty

828,804 polling booths

1 – the number of voters required for a 100 per cent turnout at a polling station inside Gujarat state’s Gir Lion sanctuary, which caters to a lone constituent

543 – seats in the lower house

131 seats reserved for tribals or lower caste candidates

5,180 metres – the elevation above sea level of India’s highest polling booth, Fastan Village (Jammu & Kashmir state, Ladakh region)

1,368,430 – electronic voting machines

157 years – age combined of the two main rivals for Prime Minister – Manmohan Singh (current PM) and LK Advani

100,000,000,000 Rupees – ($2bn) the number estimated to be the total cost of the 2009 election

2,500,000 Rupees – the legal limit allowed by individual candidates for campaigning

25,000,000,000 Rupees – the combined amount candidates will spend on illegal vote buying

200,000 Dollars – reportedly paid by the ruling Congress Party to use Oscar winning song Jai Ho, from Slumdog Millionaire, composed by AR Rahman, as their campaign song

2,000,000 bottles of indelible ink – will be used to mark voters fingers to prevent double voting

(source - courtesy of Al Jazeera English)

Stay tuned for "India Votes - Expose 2: What issues affect you", where Ravin will be talking to the electorate to find out what the issues will be on their minds when they vote, published online on Tuesday 4pm (GMT)

Get in touch - sampat.ravin@gmail.com

The spirit around me

2009-04-09T23:52:00.006+05:30

(Me and Bhabha in a field full of cars, somewhere in London - taken around 1986-1988 - I must have been around 2 or 3 years old)

I wonder how many of you have recently looked at your calendars on your computers, iPod, mobile phone, or if you’re like me, your cardboard calendar, and seen that very day’s date, yesterdays date, last week’s date, whichever date you may have seen, and have either felt puzzled, shocked or even just started wondering to yourself that one solitary question – how does time fly by?

That’s what happened to me last night, when I realised that today, April 10th 2009, is the one year anniversary of my grandfather’s death. It isn’t just any other day. Neither is it a day to just sit and be sad. Today is the day when hundreds of people that were touched by my granddad’s life will remember him, just like they do on most days. It’s not a specific day that prompts one to only remember him – instead it’s a reminder about how memory serves us so well, and even now I can remember how that 10th April last year unfolded.

I could easily write about all the fond memories we shared, all the knowledge that he provided me, or all the things that had influenced my life with him being ever present. But I don’t want to do that, because for me and my family, he is still present with us.

One doesn’t need photos, or video recordings or messages to remember “Bhabha”, as he was known. Instead, we just take a look around us and see that despite his passing last year, everything that surrounds my family makes us realise that those who perish may leave us, but their spirits never do.

Whether it’s my family’s obsession with newspapers, books or always checking in on Ugandan politics, Bhabha breathes throughout, wherever we are. Whether Anil (oldest Son and Uncle) is in Portugal or I’m in India, whether my dad (Subhash) is in Blackfriars and my sister (Shreena) is in Uxbridge, no matter where we may all be, Vanraj Hansraj Sampat is there.

I know to this day whenever my sisters wait for the tube to arrive at the platform at Pinner station, before waiting for the large, grey, double doors of the Southbound Metropolitan line to open, they will sometimes look around ominously, thinking that my granddad will be getting on too, doing his daily rounds to Harrow, Baker Street or Uxbridge, reading every last inch of the newspapers on the way. It's weird because even friends who knew him would always see him at the station reading his newspapers, and now he's not there, it's like the station has changed, or is missing something.

I know that to this day my Uncle Bharat, who for many years (around 25) spent the best part of 9 hours a day with my granddad in his shop in Pinner, will sometimes go to the back of the property and look to see if anybody was still sitting on that stool, again reading the papers, or fixing something, or neatly piling stock.

In Portugal, I know that sometimes my Uncle Anil will still pick up his telephone on a Sunday afternoon, sitting back on his comfy sofa, looking out of his balcony at the River Tagus in Lisbon with a cup of black tea or may be the finest wine money could buy, hoping that that his weekly phone call to Bhabha may actually be answered. They would discuss politics, cricket, Pakistan, India and life, for hours on end, like father and son would do.

And then there is my father, who on Saturdays would sit with my granddad and watch NDTV whilst flicking through the Saturday supplements in the papers with him. They would discuss the community, the happenings in and around the local town, and sometimes, just sometimes, even share a rare moment of laughter from their days in Uganda, fond memories of all that they have been through. Even if they were silent, each interested in their own activity, the silence was a sign of respect, man to man, of two men who valued each other’s characteristic to say less, and think more.

And when it came to laughs, Friday nights would be the role of my Uncle Hitesh, the youngest of 4 sons, who would spend his time cracking up old and new jokes, or just winding up my granddad for no reason whatsoever, always knowing that beyond that little smile he would produce after one of Hiteshs’ jokes, his heart was smiling too.

For me though, my story is different. My story is the life I lead now. My life in India is what many years and conversations with my granddad turned into. I’m here because of me, my heart, but also because of him. Bhabha made India for me a distant land with much opportunity. In my eyes, India was a country I had to see for myself, because despite all that was said and described, he always would say “Don’t listen to me, go see everything for yourself”. And so I did.

Bhabha surrounds me in this place that I call my India. All around me, when I see tiffinwallas, dhobeewallas, old men in lungi’s, young men in colourful shirts. When I smell the aromas from the numerous households cooking breakfast in the flats below me, or when I see the sari laden women walking the streets with so much colour and so much joy, or I hear the conversations in the many different languages that take place within households, or sometimes between households, I smile to myself. I smile knowing that this is everything that I was told to expect, appreciate and experience. I see children getting joy from running around hitting a tyre with some stick, may be comparable to me playing on my Nintendo when I was that age; I’m asked by two old women how much I paid for my tomatoes, may be comparable to when my mum asks why I spend so much eating in Nandos – and all these little things bring to me the bigger picture about why I’m here. I’m here because I was supposed to be; I’m here because my granddad believed I could be; I’m here because my granddad wanted me to understand him more even when he was gone.

I sit now, quietly, by myself, his image going through my mind. I smile. I smile knowing that despite this being one year since he left us - this beautiful, sometimes emotional, sometimes delightful, technicolour country before me, this India – has this spirit that keeps the country going, much like the similar spirit of Bhabha that keeps me going too.

This blog post is for my family, friends and loved ones who were touched by Bhabha. This post is dedicated Vanraj Hansraj Sampat - "Bhabha" - (1917 - 2008)

The Journey continues

2009-04-02T14:37:00.006+05:30

My life is still a journey, and one never knows the destination....

Bangalore - April 3rd 2009 - A long time back I was reading a Jiddu Krishnamurti book. It spoke about how one needs to make decisions, because indecisiveness was a act of fear. I didn't necessarily agree with him, because sometimes we delay decisions because we think that by waiting, something more positive could happen.

For over a month now, I have been a exact product of Krishnamurti's "fear" theory. I have had this urge in me, ever since my Granddad died, to be in India, and note down the whole NRI (Non Resident Indian or Not Required Indian if you ask some people!) experience. But instead I chose and made a decision to work. I love what I do, and not many people would be a Features Editor of a company at 24, but I guess some get lucky. But over the months it became apparent that one of the main reasons why I followed my heart in the first place (when deciding to come to India) was to chronicle a diary/book on "Us", the elusive, strange, all conquering NRI.

And that my fellow readers, is why I write this post today. I made a new decision. For those of you that know me, I follow my heart in everything I do, and my heart says "Go Ravin, go write this book". And so I will. I'm making a decision to go and write "that" book. The theme, the outlook, everything associated with it, I cannot answer those questions today; maybe I will never answer that question. All I know is that I am going to write this book.

I recently wrote a article for a travel magazine in India themed "Live for Today, not Tomorrow", and for me, this exact philosophy is the one that I aim to follow. All too often too many of us worry, we worry about money, recession, jobs, mortgages etc. Its easy for me to sit here and say all these things when half of you reading this maybe struggling, but I want to remind you that tomorrow may never come, and wouldn't you rather spend your life living for today then tomorrow? I can't preach, I know that, I have no right to, but since my Grandfathers death last year, I realised that we dream too much but never go out and live those dreams. We tell ourselves that we have all these constraints to think about, but it is only us that puts ourselves in these positions of constraints. And just when you thought you had it all planned out, life changes. I guess life is what happens when your busy making plans.

I read my article again. My own words hit me - and last week somebody very close to me asked to read the article. She said that her favourite line was:

"as humans we are so obsessed with planning our lives we forget to live them"

And with those words, my words, I have decided to inspire myself and go forward. I'm not planning anything, I'm not expecting anything. I'm just on a journey, and the beauty of it all is this - I still don't know my destination - and that is what excites me. I'm taking a brave leap into the unknown, out of my comfort zones.

Below is a couple of emails i received from friends and family about my new adventure, that I thought I could share with you.

I end this blog with a quote i found, by Lillian Dickson:

Life is like a coin. You can spend it any way you wish, but you only spend it once.

Ravin

Cool!! My little brother is unemployed ;o)

Excited about travelling??> What are your plans - where's first stop?
You think you're Paolo Cohello now dont you?!?!

- Shreena Sampat (my sister - my idol)

Dear Ravin,

I am proud of you & the confidence you have. Mostly knowing what you want is a quality. I admire this in you. It may not fit into what my generation was brought up on as keeping a job was the main thing. I admire your ability to do your best, reach at the top & than move on to other challenges. You are not afraid of on going change as you adopt well, bravo. I know you will do well in what ever you do. Keep out of troubles as it seems to slow down progress one would like to make.

Don’t forget, you have a home here where I am too, should you wish to take a break in a tranquil place, come over with your computer. I promise you that you will have lots of inspirational ideas that will compliment your writings. Look after your self. Anil.
- Anil Sampat (my amazing uncle who lives life in luxury and pleasures, in Portugal)

Rav...how's it going honey? everything ok? been reading your blogs...they are fab! Any plans to visit this year? Writing a book sounds really exciting...im just imagining you in a tweed coat and a tattered journal! It's great! No really..im glad you're doing something you love, i bet it'll be a great personal experience. Wish you all the best on your new journey xxx
- Shaina Gandesha (a awesome friend with a heart bigger than the earth)

YOU'RE FKIN AWSOME!!!!!!!!!!

I think its just amazing what you have decided. Good luck you s*xy b*stard!!!

Be good, see you soon xxx

- Nicky Mehta (a crazy yet wondeful family friend with a joy for life like no other)

So your leaving Confetti.. lots of tears im sure. So where u going next? This is so exciting. Were so similar in pursueing our dreams :) its great.. i love it!!

Alright well keep well and big hug...

- Jaya Vyas (one of the most spiritual people i have met)

Hey you,

aaahh thats ashame your leaving!...i feel sad thinking about it, dont know why as i dont work with you or see you!

Good luck with the book, make sure you send me a copy when it gets published im sure it will be very interesting as your blogs are entertaining ( well the ones i get to read any way)

BTW a letter from you in well over due! :(

Hope all is well otherwise
- Neeru Verma (a crazy girl from the Midlands making her life crazier in London)

Hey,

Good luck with your travels and the book...I hope they are both very successful and if not, that at least you get a lot from the experience.

- Rachel Cooper (an intelligent person who worries far too much but still loves life)

Easy dude,

I know this email will be one of many you will be receiving from your friends/family but I just wanted to say the following..

Congratulations on following your heart and not your head – like 99% of us western products tend to.. Work wise.. and life wise! It’s quite inspirational.. There aren’t too many people that can forget western and family influence to successfully follow what they really want to do, but you can – so well done mate.. I’m proud of you son!

Secondly, good luck with the book – will look forward to reading it..

Lastly – travelling India will be awesome, I’m excited for you. I fell in LOVE with Rajasthan (Udaipur particularly!!!), I think it’s my favourite part of India so far. It’s amazing.. So much character, such nice people and such beautiful landscape!!!! As soon as I got back, I watched Octopussy – and it was amazing, because I’d gone to all the places in the film.. It was awesome!!

Oh.. and ironically, we bumped into Kabir Bedi at a restaurant in Bombay a few days after Udaipur!

Hope you’re well mate.

- Dhaval Patel (a man always with a plan)

and you are a F*CKING INSPIRATION!!

proud of you honey!

SUPER PROUD!!

I get into Bangalore on the night of the 15th of April - we get a drink on the 16th! I am so proud of you - you are in inspiration and you have the balls of a man!!

I wish I am one day as brave as you...

Lots of love

Lots of support

Lots of respect

In appreciation of great human being such as you!

- Nayantara Pani (somebody who believes in the spirit of the world like me)

Hey Ravin

Just wanted to say good luck with your new expedition and book - it all sounds very exciting and also it's inspiring me to follow my ideals too - life's too short to be stuck in something you don't want to do - you should definitely go with your what your instincts say and what you want to do - life's all about experiences and emotion - not about making money or following the expected path set out by society so best of luck with everything and keep us updated on your progress! I'd be interested in reading your extracts from this book of yours.

- Lakhmi Bhambra (somebody who knows how to enjoy life and never look back)

n.b. some notes have been edited because of either bad language or personal messages.

The Fear of Tika

2009-03-10T13:09:00.001+05:30

( A man donning his tika - courtesy of rizone.com)

As India celebrates Holi, I find myself protecting my forehead even more...

BANGALORE - Tuesday 10th March: I have met only one person in my lifetime that shares this fear that I have. Most people have fears of things that you would think one should be fearful about. Sharks - people get scared to go into the swimming pool because that famous "Jaws" scene with the scary music freaks them out every time they enter the water. Snakes - the slippery creature slides around, hissing, watching, slipping through everything around you. Hands on the chalk board - the finger nails make that screeching sound (you all know the one I'm talking about and I'm sure some of you are squirming just thinking about it!).

For me, my fear is none of these - although I'm sure some ex-lovers of mine would say I feared commitment, but whatever - my fear is the red dot that is placed on one's forehead. My fear is a strange one, and even thinking about it whilst I type this note is making me feel weird. My fear is strange because being a Indian (NRI or not), we have to accept this one thing that is part of our culture - Tika.

Known as tilaka, tika, chandlor (Gujarati) or any other name, this red spot on the forehead makes me feel sick. Physically. Whilst I write this post, I almost feel as though I should dictate this to one of the writers because I'm feeling queasy just thinking about it and typing about it!

I can't say where my fear lies. Ever since I was a young chap, the tika has scared me. On that Indian festival for new born babies (kind of like a Christening), when I had my head shaved off with the Hindu Swastika painted on my head with the red tika paste, I have had a fear.

It's so bad that even when I take an auto rickshaw in the morning on the way to work, if the autowalla has a big tika planted on his forehead, I avoid taking that auto, even if it does mean missing meetings or being late for work.

Every time I see someone with it on, I slowly try avoiding any eye contact with them. In the temple, when entering, it is almost certain that there will be a man or women with a bucket load of tika mix, using their finger to dip into the mix, and then placing the concoction on ones forehead. I general avoid the "tika people", and normally I duck. The next thing they know, they have a empty space in front of them when they obviously thought they were "tika-ing" someone. Sometimes they would shout, and if I was with my mum, she would protect me by saying "Sorry, he gets spots from it. Place it on his hand".

I know I sound really weird, and yes, sometimes I am a little strange I agree, but tomorrow I will be scared of tika even more. It's Holi - the festival of throwing lots of colours on each other. Today is chhota holi (small holi) where bonfires are lit, and tomorrow is the big one. We have the day off and I'm looking forward to running around and terrorising my friends with loads of colours but I'm also scared. How am I supposed to celebrate Holi and dance around pretending I'm "Big B" Amitabh Bachhan singing Ranga Barse (Silsila)?

My mother has already told me that "when" (or "if" I might add) get married, if it's a Hindu ceremony, I would have to be ready for a "tika-infested" situation. Right from the marriage rites, to the ceremonial walking around fire, tika is used! I guess marriage is off the cards than....at least a Hindu wedding anyway... :)

Anyone reading this would think I'm crazy. At work, they pretend to re-enact scenes where tika is going on my forehead just to freak me out! On Raksha Bandan (the ceremony of brother-sisterhood) I had to hold in all my suffering and accept Snigdha's tika lade fingers on my forehead!

I've tried google-ing this, but nothing comes up. I don't know why I have this fear, and I guess until I figure out why, I am sure I will always have it.

Oh well. Happy Holi to you all.

P.s. I would appreciate it if no-one sent me pictures of people with tika on their foreheads! I have already had these lot at work terrorise me all day!

The feeling of being Lost...

2009-02-24T18:16:00.000+05:30

(Snigdha poses as Kate Winslet on our October 08 holiday in Manipal)

Being lost is a common occurrence for most humans, but being lost in India is something unique...

Bangalore - Tuesday 24Th February

I often wonder what people do when they feel lost. Right now I feel lost. I think its even stranger when you feel lost in a place where you have never felt lost before.

For the last three weeks now, my life has been something of a standstill. I have pondered on what I'm doing and where I'm going. I'm in that middle junction where I find myself asking what road I should take now - the high road or the low road. What is the high road? What is the low road?

The thing is, this is the first time this has happened to me in India. In all my 8 months of living here, I haven't for one second felt lost; but now suddenly, as the wind gets lighter, the sun stronger, and my current snotty noise gets worse, I find myself pondering more about things. I don't know if 2009 has bought about a reflective sense of feeling in the air or anything like that. Do you any of you feel more reflective since 2009 came into place, or am I the only one?

However lost someone can feel, being lost in India is a whole new experience. Just at times when you feel let down, all it takes is the kindness of a normally non-co-operative auto rickshaw driver to pull you back up; just when you get angry at the arsehole shopkeeper who has decided to rip you off on something, all it takes is the freebie chucked in by another shopkeeper to keep you smiling. India - this wide, vast, cosmopolitan land - is somewhat of a lost man's paradise. Sometimes in London, when I felt lost, I had football to keep me going. Here I don't have that. Sometimes in London, when I felt lost, I could turn to the pub and friends company and get completely wasted; here, I have that but its not the same thing, especially when your more worried about what time the police are going to come knocking on the bar door.

So what am I saying about this feeling of being lost in India? It's different. Feeling lost here makes me think that feeling lost doesn't matter because there are so many people in this country, doing so many different things, that it wouldn't matter what man, woman or child is feeling...everybody is united by thing in India - people. Its the people here that can instantly take you out of the faze that your lost. And it doesn't matter who that person is, from the chai-walla to the dobee-walla to your dhost (friend) in your office. People. People are what make you feel complete again. People in India is what makes you feel like you never feel lost again. And today that person was Snigdha. Snigdha, the girl from Varanasi, just came into my office, spoke completely frankly, and gave that cute little smile that makes me smile back because its hard not to.

People make the difference here. I'm not saying anywhere else this is not the case, but in my own assessment, its amazing how the first thing we look for when feeling lost is material things like chocolate, the pub, films or a book. We look for things that will make us happy or fulfill a little gap that needs filling. In India, people look for people. I guess that's the difference...

From Slum to Sun..

2009-02-23T15:53:00.000+05:30

(picture courtesy of Google Images)

The Oscars should now end the Slumdog debate...

The Oscars were handed out. The red carpet was laid out. Slumdog Millionaire bags 8 Oscars.

It would be stupid for me to say that I was "surprised" by last nights red carpet event in LA. To be honest, I felt the film deserved everything it was rewarded for last night. But of course, there will be those who still slate the film, like the many Bollywood actors and actresses in their plush Juhu Beach apartments, who say "Slumdog" is a bad representation of India - well of course it is, because you live in 8 bedroom houses with no slums around you. But what film has caused such debate, such criticisms, such praise, and such coverage, in the history of modern cinema? That's why it should be celebrated, because Slumdog is now one of those films that will become part of popular film culture, much like Shawshank, The Godfather and many others. I'm not comparing these films to Slumdog of course. No, what I'm suggesting is the fact that its recognition means the film now must be regarded as a modern marvel because of the debate it has caused. Without everyone talking about it, the film would have been forgotten.

If anything, although I disagree with the nominations and chosen winners sometimes, the Oscars are the perfect way to give a film its rightful recognition, simply because the media hype and perceptions of the Oscars do so. I hope that we don't continue slating the film because its done with now, and its received its recognition.

The irony in India is, however, that everyone is celebrating the victory saying its a "great victory for India". Although whilst I read the BBC's post-Oscars report, I quietly sip my lemon tea pondering on this very important question - I wonder how many of these same people were the ones slating it in the first place...

Moral Molesting...

2009-02-11T17:45:00.000+05:30

(picture courtesy of the Press Trust of India - PTI, Jan 09)

The recent attacks on women and men on Karnataka's pub scene shows the deep contradictions facing cosmopolitan India...

BANGALORE - Wednesday 11th February

The recent attacks on a group of women and men at the Amnesia Lounge in Mangalore, Karnataka, has shown a deep and morally unacceptable part of the current Indian culture. Just under two weeks ago, the Sri Ram Sene orchestrated a unprecedented assault on the pub, attacking men and women alike. There was no remorse from the perpetrators, and not even the standbys could do anything to stop it. This video (click here), like many other videos captured of the events, shows the brutality and clear danger facing youngsters targeted by the so called "moral police".

I do not know if these events were covered abroad in the Western news agencies, but in India it is has had mixed receptions. Firstly, there are those who say these attacks were completely "within the rights of the law", that the perpetrators are a blessing in disguise for India, because they would stand up to Western influence more than the government would do. Secondly, there are those who are "condemning" the actions, but not doing much about it. Finally, there those who are so distraught by the events that they have pledged to do "all they can" to stop such events occurring again.

What i find difficult to comprehend is the actions of such so called "moral groups". Lets face it, India is the largest democracy in the world, and its also the most cosmopolitan country in the world. It has so many different ethnic, caste and tribal groups, so many "phirangs", so many different faces, that the multiculturalism here should be celebrated. But at the same time, goons who take the law into their own hands go unpunished.

The Sri Ram Sene and groups alike claim that the reason and justification for such attacks is that "pubs are bad", "youths shouldn't be drinking alcohol", "girls shouldn't drink" and so on. These same groups claim that it is their responsibility to curb these western influences.

But when did it become right for such yobs to orchestrate the law into their own hands? There is no Indian law claiming that A. Women cannot drink, B. Women cannot go into pubs. In a free and democratic society, it is a individuals choice if they want to drink, it is a individuals choice if they want to drink in a pub, and it is a individuals choice what they do with their lives. No group, no organisation, no words by anybody can claim to be imposing moral values by preventing people from conducting their rights at free will.

What amazes me however, is the contradictions. These same goons claim that women shouldn't wear strapless tops, boob-tubes, tight, skinny fit jeans, and even recently, a Kerela MLA's daughter was attacked for walking down a street with a Muslim. These groups are the very "Talibisation" of society India doesn't need. On a recent TV debate, a spokesmen for the Sri Ram Sene claimed firstly that his groups had not conducted the attacks, and then half hour into the debate claimed the violence "conducted by my group was 'moral violence' that is acceptable". Is he crazy?

We need to read between the lines. The fact is this - India is a free and open society, or claims to be, and if groups like this are allowed to take the law into their own hands, then not only will it disenfranchise the nations youth, but the ever increasing popularity of India as a hot tourist spot and the beauty behind India will definitely disappear. Students, employees, independent women, would all think twice before they would choose India as their destination. If women's clothing is banned or targeted, foreign companies won't invest; if pubs are targeted, why would anyone want to even step out their house for a drink? Businesses will close, the youth would become even more disenfranchised, and the knock on effect of youth in disarray is not exactly what the world's largest democracy would like to characterise itself on.

If these groups think they are doing their moral duty, why not ban cricket? Cricket is a western (English) sport that was bought to the Sub-Continent when the British Raj was here. Is that not against moral values? Of course not, because these same loony members of these groups are jobless nobody's who only cause trouble, yet play cricket in the many fields, in their spare time (when their not morally bashing women).

And even more sickening is the fact that the Mangalore attacks showed a contradiction in what these groups claim to stand for. They say women shouldn't be in pubs, as if they were protecting them. Reports and evidence has shown that the girls were also "molested" in these incidents. Worse still, these guys are given alcohol before they set of on their days rampage. They are payed in mediocre sums, provided free liquor, and given political support. The State govt hasn't really spoken out about these incidents, and worse still, some major players in India politics haven't condemned these acts either. It just makes you think, Indians vote to keep people in power to protect them. Instead, it seems the very people ones votes to protect them, is in fact working against them at times.

Valentines Day reaches us on Saturday and the "moral police" is sending teams of 100 men to cause havoc in all the major cities of Karnataka. If a couple are seen together, either they will be forced on the spot to marry and taken to the registrars office, or they will be attacked for celebrating Valentines Day. Even clothing is targeted and it makes me wonder what freedom does anyone have when such retarded groups take the law into their own hands.

Luckily, India's youth and intellect have woken up - there is now a "pink Chaddie's" (underwear) campaign by the Consortium of Pub-Going, Loose and Forward Women (click here), whereby everyone is urged to send used, pink underwear to the leader of the Sri Ram Sene. Of course, for every underwear item sent, the leader has said that he will send a sari back.

My sister and my mum arrive in Bangalore this Friday. I wonder if I'll be stopped when drinking with them in a bar, by these retards, who'll ask me to marry my sister because I'm seen with a girl?!

At the end of the day, this is the land where the Kama Sutra was created (and practiced); the land where sari's make women look so elegant; the land where there are 1.5 Billion people all with their own morals - not that of one group. Go ahead, the youth of India, enjoy the pubs, enjoy freedom of speech and movement, because as Gandhi once said, a individual should always be allowed to make his own decision and his own choices, and not be directed by that of others. By these groups committing these acts in the context of "expressing their own freedoms", they are taking away freedoms of others, albeit unlawfully.

Stray dog's...a random thought

2009-02-10T17:12:00.000+05:30

(3 random dog's outside my office)

BANGALORE - Tuesday 9th February
In India, there are more than 4 dog's on any one street at any moment in time. In fact, stray dog's probably contribute to about 10% of any street's traffic at any moment. These dog's however, act human. I actually think when I look into their eyes, that they are just as human as me. No, I'm not saying that I'm a dog, but still.

When you look into their eyes, they have human eyes. They roam the streets like they own them. They eat like it's the finest meal they have ever encountered. The bark sounds more like they are asking you a question than anything violent.

(Dog's go sniffing the van)

I've had a few funny dog experiences. Apart from seeing them mate outside my office window, I found the dog's in Mumbai to be different to the ones in Bangalore. In Mumbai, they never barked; in Bangalore, at night they become ferocious. When they walk past you, they look closely into your eyes to see if you have fear, to see who you are, to see where your from. The dog barking once kept my father awake every night when he stayed with me, and he didn't get one ounce of sleep because he was woken up by the sound of someone gargling water at 5am! I make it sound like I live in sort of "slum" don't I? Not really. Just remember, there are 1.5 billion people in India. Close proximity is natural.

My point is this. Dog's are treated like humans. If they are mischievous, they are shouted at. A dog in India has the perfect life. He/she can roam the streets freely, not paying tax, not paying auto fees, not a care in the world. And the best thing yet, they get to eat every type of Indian cuisine thrown to them by households. A Indian dog is the don. They run the street, can sleep anywhere they like, and still get the respect from the human's around them.

Amazing how only across India's Eastern border, in China, dog's are considered a delicious delicacy....

India isn't one big slum full of millionaires....

2009-01-31T14:21:00.000+05:30

(This photo is of myself (far right), my uncle (far left), my father (second left) and a Pundit (priest) taken in Nasik, 4 hours from Mumbai, where i scattered my Granddad's ashes in the the holy river) - Nov 08

“So far as I am able to judge, nothing has been left undone, either by man or nature, to make India the most extraordinary country that the sun visits on his rounds. Nothing seems to have been forgotten, nothing overlooked.”

- Mark Twain

I wanted to start this post with the above quote by Mark Twain because i think it gives us a timely reminder just how unique and loved India is. Time really does fly when your doing any number of things. I haven't updated this blog for nearly 3 months now and even though i don't believe in New Years resolutions, i do believe i can now promise that i will try to update this as much as possible, but only if you guys keep sending me those interesting emails asking "Ravin!!! Where are your updates!!!"

And so, I sat and compelled myself to my desk and laptop last night, and whilst listening to AR Rahman's current hit "Jai Ho", i managed to get some thoughts down that i wanted to share with you.

It has been quite a few interesting months here in the Indian Sub-Continent. Politics, international issues, internal wranglings, govt bigots and other strange things have dominated the front pages of most newspapers and respected journals around the world with regards to India. I don't want to sit and talk about the Mumbai terror attacks; too much has already been written on that, by respected journalists and many awful journalists too. I was actually in Mumbai exactly one week before those terrible acts of violence took place. Staying at the Marriott, i guess i felt more secure, because it was a international hotel, but the fact is, that wouldn't have made a difference. Amazing how in just under a week, those terrible acts took place, literally right next to where i stayed.

Iguess i don't want to talk about the current heightened tensions between India and Pakistan either; again, too much has been written about that by both the Pakistani and Indian media - and at times, it almost seems as though these "respected" national media's are at war with each other, and not the two countries themselves!

I guess the one thing that i wish to write about is the craze and current debate hitting the world, and i guess me personally, which is "Slumdog Millionaire". Now, you might ask why it affects me directly, or personally. Well, its simple - 1. Because i am currently in India and 2. Because i am a NRI (Non Resident Indian), even though i currently reside in India! Confusing i know but you get my drift.

Firstly, i have to say, that this whole debate on the film has gone slightly overboard, but at the same time, I'm glad it took place because India needed this debate, very badly!

The film, internationally, has received wide spread approval. Its been nominated for numerous Oscars and looks like it will win a few too. In India however, i would say about 50% of the Media is supporting the film, whilst 30% are questioning it, and 20% are disowning it. The reason why i mention the media's role here is because the media lays a very important role in India in shaping ones personal opinion about something, especially when it has global implications. Not everyone has instant Internet access or access to the kind of information we would only expect in London. What annoys me about the debate is that nobody is actually talking about the merits of the direction, acting, soundtrack, production or anything like that. No, its quite the opposite. In fact, the problem that India is having with this film is that the film "sheds India in a bad light".

Now i watched the film and i was instantly moved by the storyline and plot. I felt the film was a good insight and portrayal of what can happen, or does happen, in 10% of situations in India. India, you see, is a vast and vibrant country. It has a lot happening in it, at any one point in time. Whilst a child is begging in Lucknow, a businessman is making crores (millions) in Delhi. Whilst a dobee walla (washing and ironing man) is ironing my clothes outside my office window, a brand new property is being built 4km away with workers carrying cement on their head. Whilst a IT professional (or techie as they are known here) is smoking a Marlboro Light imported from the Middle East or Europe, dressed in clothing from Van Heusen or Marks & Spencers, a old man sits across him on the same street in a lungi smoking a beedi (Indian cigarette). "THIS IS INDIA". The disparity between classes is evident, and its not a bad thing, its the make up of the fabrique of Indian society. Yes, it is competitive. Only recently someone told me that working for a software company with a big name (i.e. HP, Sun, Infosys) would more likely attract potential marriages for Indian men, than if he was working for a smaller unknown company. God, what ever happened to just falling in love for who we are?

(Me trying on a lungi - which i ended up purchasing - on Christmas Day, in Cochin, Kerela) - Dec 08

However, for the critics and a vast number of Indians, "Slumdog" treats India badly, almost pushing off this impression to the wider world that India is in fact some poor old place full of beggars and what not. My Editor-in-Chief once said to me that those who haven't visited India always think of the place as some land with many animals, elephants on the streets, cobra charmers and a wide array of swami and guru's walking around aimlessly with tika (red powder dot) on their foreheads. If anything, Slumdog takes away this mixed perception of India and gives us a insight into what India really is. I'm not saying that it gives a description of the whole of India. The fact is, not one person, not one film, not one book, nothing at all, can fully encapsulate what India is. To its core, India is only what one see's through their own eyes.

The India i see is so different than the India that my work colleagues see. I see cow's causing traffic problems on the way to my office, others see it as part of normal everyday life. When a girl smokes, people stare. When i see a girl smoke, i don't even notice. When two guys walk down the road holding hands, i think twice about whether its their sexuality or its their friendship for one another. Other's don't even notice it because its so natural for men do this. The truth is, India has so many India's inside of it, that their is not one unifying aspect that says to me "This is what India is". No, instead i walk the street of Bangalore's finest market streets, and from the vast shopping centres of Jayanagar to JP Nagar, from food varieties in Chamrajpet to Gandhinagar, and from the cultural hubs that surround us throughout this great city from Majestic to Malleshwaram, everyday is different, and everything i see becomes different each time. That's why i can sit and say proudly - "This is India", and with that, each day is divinely unique. "This is India", because everything that occurs is different.

Critics or nationalists pretending to be critics, argue that the film doesn't say much about India. If you haven't already seen the film, I'm sorry but what i may write might give off some clues about it. There is one scene in particular, the infamous "shit" scene, when the small boy dives into shit to reach his favourite Bollywood star for a autograph. The outrage here was that such a thing discriminates against Indians, arguing that "Indians" would not go through such things to get a autograph. But why pick on that scene? It was one scene in which a little smile went on every ones faces, that one 3 minute sequence doesn't represent the whole film does it?

What i find troubling is that India doesn't see the glory and pride that this film gives us. The story is of a underdog who makes it to the top of the tree because he answers questions based on "his experiences", not on the things that he has been taught. That's what the film is trying to argue; its trying to say "look, you don't need lakhs of money, you don't need to be educated in former British institutions, you don't need to be a Bollywod celeb, or connected to the right politician or policeman to be able to answer questions that only the Ratan Tata's, Sharukh Khan's, or Sachin Tendulkar's of this world could possibly answer". The film celebrates India in all its glory, the rags to ritches story, and just because it shows slums, or racial fighting, or examples of child exploitation in the streets of Mumbai, doesn't mean that this represents the whole of India. Its just a timely reminder that whilst everyone walks around with a iPod, drinks from Cafe Coffee Day (Starbucks equivalent) and suddenly likes drinking foreign imported beers like Heineken, that the other part of India still goes on in the same limelight. Even today as i write this, Shilpa "Big Brother" Shetty has slammed the film for looking at the slums and the poverty side of India. Whats wrong Shilpa? Oh i forgot, the area of Mumbai you live in doesn't have anything like this around you does it?

What most Bollywood films do is depict wealth with fabulous love stories. As if that's what goes on in the real India. If Bollywood is so critical about this film, because it doesn't depict the real India, why don't we change all the "running around the tree" sequences and actually show what tree hugging in big Bollywood blockbusters is supposed to mean?

The Bollywood film industry is meant for escapism and that's why this film gets so much criticism because it doesn't fall into the right segment that they want to portray. Instead, it goes beyond the escapism of the Indian film industry and tries to look at the dark side of India's underbelly with a positive light, a feat no Indian film will now encounter, because quite simply, "its so out of fashion".

Slumdog is a celebration of the forgotten India, the India that makes up 60% of the country; The India that rushes around one TV to see the weeks top film; the India that lets you play cricket on the street with a battered bat and ball; the India that lets you dream, despite your current predicament, that one should be happy with the simple things in life. Slumdog is a celebration of the underdog, the common man that has knowledge based on his experiences, not on what he has been taught or is expected to know.

And so, when the dust finally settles, and the Oscars are handed out to Boyle and Co, let us remember that this film woke us up to what India is - in my own words - a blend of culture, colour, vibrant and enthralling lifestyles that is beyond ones imagination. Whether people live in 5 bedroom mansions with hired help or push around a cart shouting out "Banana" and reside in the local slum, at the end of the day, they are ALL part of MODERN INDIA.

And guess what...even as a NRI, I'm part of that make-up too...

Next week, with the run up to Valentines Day only days away, Ravin will be discussing the Mangalore "molestation case",and the implications for the youth of India.

Story 3: Smells, Socialising and Staying...

2008-08-21T10:50:00.000+05:30

It seems my little emails are providing ample fun for all you guys back home (or wherever you may be - Italy, Lisbon, Amsterdam, Germany etc)so whenever someone tells me they are bored, i will stop...

Smells

My friend Nayantara (a Bangaloree who is now in Singapore getting her @rse promoted every two minutes - well done btw!) thinks that i should mention things about smells. What smells? The smells of the hijra's? The smells of the auto-wallas bi-o?

Bangalore has three smells for me...

1. The smell of pollution mixed with $hit...
2. The smell of great food (not dosa's) but street side Chat's that taste SO good
3. The sweet smell of India

Pollution is a big problem here and on my daily journey to the gym at 6.30am i smell nothing but fresh Indian air. When i leave the gym at 8.30am, i smell the start of pollution. Its a strange smell because their is so much construction going on around Bangalore that you kind of get used to the climate. It's not the pollution you would get upon returning home from Central London, and you wash your hands to find that black grease fall off your hands...it's this strange pollution that almost make you feel like your not experiencing India without sniffing it all in..

The thing is, like everything in India, poo is a big problem, especially when it comes from animals. The smell makes more flies and mosquito's come about, BUT, the beauty is the smell of poo is overshadowed by the pollution, so all those stereotypes of people pooing everywhere and smelling out this wonderful city is wrong...

The smell of the food is so great tho..oh man its enticing. makes you almost want to eat every time you smell it. i never realised how good street food smells. Every time you go somewhere - you can either smell Masala Puri or Pani Puri..its fantastic. last week i went to a typical little street side cafe, and the pace in which the waiters were throwing about yogurt into the food and mixing spices and onions and then throwing it at you whilst sauce splashed onto my jeans was brilliant. The stains and the constant water and soap washing after were worth it...

And then their is the smell of India. India smells to me as if its a sweet smell that keeps getting sweeter. The air is fresh at night (mixed with garam masala) and then sometimes it changes into this weird smell of humidity. I cant really describe the smells of India. Food plays such a prominent part here that i think it is natural to assume that the smell of India, for me, is food. We Indians place so much emphasise on food, and its part of our culture wherever we may be...India smells of food. Shame that tho i think, because so many Indians are starving in a place that smells so good....hmmm

Socializing

Being a old British ruled town for its Barracks, Bangalore has a strong history of pubs. in fact, it was known as Pub City - but the state govt of Karnataka is slowly closing down all pubs and bars and disco's. I don't know why. its almost as if it frowned upon. For a city of so many nationalities, the social scene is going down. Socialising here is going to restaurants and spending endless hours in cafe Coffee Day - a big chain of super nice cafes where people go and sit and read and talk profoundly...everyday i pick up a copy of the Times of India - and in the Bangalore supplement, their is always whats happening in Bangalore - and has pics of parties that occurred with drinks and whatever, but these are private parties. Give me two months - I'm sure I'll be at one of those!

Mumbai seems to be more of the Western clubbing atmosphere, but its sad cos Bangalore has so many young hip professionals but the govt is slowly neutralizing this all. They say its to prevent people being stupid, but surely they will just do it by illegal means! I've had 4 nights out since i got here - all in the same pub..with a family friend...

But ironically, i don't miss the clubbing atmosphere. or the pub atmosphere. not at all. in fact that was my past, that was my London life, not my life here. you have to enjoy India for what it is, and not expect it or try make it something that you felt was a mainstay of your life before. Have i come to India to get pi$ed on a Friday night like i would do with Koby and Kunal and Tina etc every weekend? No...

Staying

Well - the only other bit of news is that - i found my own place! i move out this week i hope, and i have put down a deposit for a property to rent. its a nice little one bed, bathroom and kitchen - right next to my gym, in a awesome locality with great things nearby. its a brand new flat and I'll be breaking coconuts to bless the home this weekend i hope. Felt so weird buying a fridge, gas stove, plates and cooking utensils this weekend. made me realise that im settling down somewhere in a place were so many people (including this email) would say i would never do..hmmm...food for thought...

But guess what - no excuses to come and visit me now - i have a little bachelor pad!

Apart from that, my cooking skills have been on show and i now cook twice a week for my work collegaues. Since im now a vegetarian, i dont use any meat, so ive had to be extra creative. Everyone yearns the pasta, and im gona make paella this week i hope - deadline depending off course! Our boos bought all the stuff for the perfect kitchen! its awesome! We all cook something whenever we want and it tastes so good with all those great spices..makes me think of home too!

ok back to the writing board...

peace out one love

p.s. attached are some pics that will be going into this months magazine as it is the 2 year anniversary of the issue so we decided to do a Confetti magazine special moments thing of us at work!

also - it was Raksha bandan (brother and sister ceremony) so i included some pics of me getting my rakharees from my workmate Snigdha and a cute little pic of my cousin..)

enjoy!

Funniest Moment:

It was raining so much on the eve of independence day that we couldnt go home on the bokes, so 4 of us stayed behind (only 8 in my office) and made food, then went a bit mad, got the camera, moonied whilst on self timer, then changed everyones backgrounds on their pc! great fun when they walked into work saturday mornng to find 3 Indian arses plugged on their screens!

Story 2: Hijra's and Hooting

2008-08-12T13:10:00.000+05:30

The last 10 days has been BUSY as hell as work! In fact most nights i spent here until at least 10.30..but the beauty is i don't care. i LOVE work.. i guess my philosophy of life right now is: Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, dance like no-one is watching...(i dance in the office too!)
So back to reality then..

Hijra's
i mentioned last time how the Hijra's (She -Males) always target me at Bannerghetta Road ( a junction that is like a cross between Spaghetti Junction in Birmingham and Marylebone Road, London) Well..they haven't been as prominent there this time - why - because they have moved further up the road so now they get me at the first traffic light! But on Wednesday my opinion changed about them. Rickshaw drivers always never have change (half of them lie because its their way of keeping the change) - so instead - my fee was 50 rupees, and i had a hundred note (no, I'm not a high roller - 100 rupees is about 1 squid and twenty pennies) - so he stopped the auto as i sat their reading Thunderball and he walked around looking for change. of course no one had any - or no one wanted to give any.. Then. in the corner of my eye i see a hijra..first one, then a second appeared - out of nowhere, waggling his/her long hair, acting so camp i almost thought it was Elton John on LSD. They came round to my side of the road - and the auto guy asked them for change. Of course, my first reaction was "NOOOOOOO - their gonathink its a 100 rupee tip!" BUT - instead he asked them for change, and she/he took out a purse from his/her breasts, and in front of me i saw I'd say between 3,000 and 8,000 rupees in 100 rupees notes. OK not that much but when you do a calculation of the funds in pounds, that's around 50 quid in just walking the streets of Bangalore and asking bike drivers and the rest for money! not bad business for a weirdo. may be i should don my hijra outfit again like i did at the fancy dress party (see facebook photos) and start my own business! definitely earn more than a writer! Although I'm worried they'll beat me up cos i am on their turf - sort of like a Mafiosi of hijra's! (imagine a hijra with Al Pacino's voice)...the only thing we have in common is that we both have tattoos! anyhow - they gave the change, she/he had anything i wanted, and they didn't take my money, and walked off. i felt, not but of obligation, but i guess out of good spirits, that i should give something back so i gave them 2 rupees each and they smiled (man its so freaky) and walked off..my opinion of them has changed..they are earning a living like everybody else...

Hooting

i don't know if its a Bangalore thing, but I'm pretty much sure its a INDIA thing..the "hooting". In the mornings the Auto guy will hoot for no reason. There is no-one in front of them and "hooot" will go their little pouch on their right...

sometimes i travel and i know he will hoot even when their is NO-ONE in front of him. i asked my uncle (who likes hooting too) why do you do it? he said its not a spasm in the hand that makes us do it, its a natural reaction to let other drivers know you are there! OK - fair enough - but who are you hooting at when there is no one on the road! it makes me think of that quote/proverb:
"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

OK here's the Indian version - if a car/bike hoots, and no-ones there, does it make a sound? well of course it does cos I'm their to hear it yet the i am the only person hearing it is because there is no-one to hoot at!

the hooting makes me laugh and sometimes makes me cry. they hoot when there is no possible or feasible way for a car to move in front of them!!! my friend Raghav never hoots when it is not needed (when on his bike on the way home) but I've crossed the road sometimes and people hoot from 200 yards away when they have a clear road! for me its a spasm - the hand slowly reaches up and does it because without doing it they feel incomplete.

its like brushing your teeth - its a natural part of life - you do because its a norm..in Bangalore - -hooting is a norm..

oh well - nothing else to add to this...

funny moment:

i wrote a article about "10 best sex songs" and now my Indian colleague listen to Wayne Marshall's G - $pot on the office speakers...classic.

Ghost Names:

Seeing as i have written 7 articles which are all being published, i cant have my name in them all otherwise it looks stupid..so i had to create ghost names - well - i was lost so one of them i just had as my name backwards (Nivar = Ravin), the others i took from From Russia With Love (i called myself Rosa Romonov - two of the characters in the film) and then i had to think of another so i thought to use my idol Zidane, but that would have looked stupid so i took Roberto Baggio's first name, and added Italian hattrick hero Paolo Rossi to make ROBERTO Rossi...please please if you have any good ghost names for me send them!

peace out

One love

Story 1: Welcome to India

2007-07-19T09:52:00.000+05:30

I have to admit, this blog was supposed to be updated once every few days, but the roller coaster i have had in the last 2 weeks made that slightly difficult.

Describing the first 3 weeks is not going to be easy, especially when you have experienced so much from the moment you land.

My work

I was pretty lucky getting a job within 48 hours of arriving! I had one interview - which was JUST weird - they asked me two questions "why have you come to India" and "why didn't you become a accountant like your dad?" Guess that's Indian mentality for you - follow in your fathers footsteps - but what can i say -i love writing!

At the moment, I'm a writer at Confetti Magazine, India's First and ONLY Couples Magazine. Ive been doing editing and PR work too (cant wait to meet some HOT models). its funny because I'm sitting here writing about all sorts from Sexual positions, to anything under the sun. For India, we are quite BOLD, but this magazine is facing those issues that people think India cant talk about! For heavens sake - India is the home of the Karma Sutra!

I've had 5 articles published already - in two different magazines, and they like my Brit-Indian humour, which works as a advantage for me. i give them something different. i feel like i have recognition here. everyone at work is cool (see pics enclosed)

www.confettimagazine.com
(a little plug for my magazine)

Apart from dodgy rickshaw drivers that play on my NRI status, i have settled in very well. in fact, i feel like i have been here for a long time. i didn't expect to get a job so quickly, i didn't expect it to be in a job i love, and neither did i think that i would settle here like a local..but i have..so far!

people think everything is cheaper in India - but it only is if your thinking in pounds. to be a Indian, to be treated like a local, you need to think like one. i love arguing in the morning in my very much improved Hindi (with a London twang) with the rickshaw drivers over the ten rupees more they ask for. The other day i had rick who i gave 100 rupees to, expecting 60 back, and he was slowly giving 5 rupees here and their cos he wanted me to tip him..fuck off i told him, used every swear word in every language i could, and after ten minutes of refusing to get out of his rickshaw, i noticed a picture of Lord Rama on his dashboard. i asked in Hindi, do you believe in God? he replied yes..i said well god's watching you do the dirty work, so stop fucking me about and give me my money. i would have tipped him had the b@stard not tried it.

The moral of this story - Never try ripping off a Indian.

i have become accustomed to Indian Cig's (Wills Ultra Milds - which is cool cos you can buy one cig instead of the whole pack!) and instead of my customary espresso's i lived on in London, i am now drinking more and more masala tea!)

OK i don't want to be one of those boring sods who writes for ever and ever - its one of those situations when you just have to be here to know what I'm talking about.

enclosed are a few pics - enjoy!

Funniest moment so far: asking for a serviette with work colleagues at a chat street side restaurant - the waiter went to the next table and took the other tables serviettes, and replaced it with our empty serviette box. etiquette for you..i was in stitches

Reoccurring moments: every morning, at the SAME traffic light on Bannerghetta Road, i see the same Hijra's, they always pick on me. if i don't have 1 or 2 rupees change, they start touching my leg. for the first few days i went mental, because they always went for the rip in my jeans! but now i know what to do - always carry coins with you - it prevents these she-males touching you.