Holy Cow

There is a stereotype about India that cows are to be found absolutely everywhere, from the family farm to the middle of a busy intersection in a bustling metropolis. It is true. One day I was inside the ticket reservation center of a train station when I noticed a steaming heap of cow dung on the floor near the ticket counter. 

Me: There was a cow inside here?

Indian guy: Yes, this is India. Not even the prime minister's seat is safe.

Android and the Indian Accent

After my trustworthy Nokia plunged into a toilet bowl and never recovered fully, I finally entered the smartphone fray with the cheapest Android phone available in the marketplace. I had held out for many years, finding the devices too large to be convenient and too complicated to be efficient. For instance, my fingers correspond to more than one letter at a time on the touchscreen keyboard, so it is very difficult to type text messages. I was with a colleague when I discovered it had voice recognition capabilities that could ease my typing burden. Much to my amusement, it could not decipher my coworker's Indian accent.

Me: I am very handsome.
Phone: I am very handsome.
Me: I am testing out voice recognition.
Phone: I am testing out voice recognition.
Indian coworker: I am testing the phone.
Phone: I am dictating the fort.
Indian coworker: I am testing the phone.
Phone: I'm checking the phone.
Indian coworker: I am testing the phone.
Phone: I am digging the phones.
Indian coworker: Let's try something easy. I went to the sea.
Phone: BBC Weather.
Indian coworker: I went to the sea.
Phone: Irish crikey.
Indian coworker: I went to the sea.
Phone: Sex.
Me: It can even read minds.
Indian coworker: How did you read my mind?
Phone: Cheese P Diddy my mind.

Sleeper

After a overnight train journey from Mumbai, I arrived in Ahmedabad at around 5 in the ante meredien. I had foolhardily booked the lower bunk in a sleeper compartment of the train. Lower berths are recommended for security reasons. It is easier to notice if someone is purloining your luggage from right beneath your bed than when you are two bunks up, far detached from the happenings below.

The drawback is that you get little to no sleep, as a continuous stream of passengers without beds, seats, tickets, or manners uses your bed as their own. I was forced against the interior wall of my compartment, able to maintain possession of approximately 40% of my allotted sleeping area. The remaining 60% of the property was captured by a rotating set of 22 different individuals of various ethnic backgrounds during the 9 hour journey. Thankfully, the maximum number of people sitting on me at any given time did not exceed 5.

I groggily tumbled out of the train at Ahmedabad Junction and walked into the station's waiting room. The seats all seemed to be occupied. A strange mix of a hospital waiting room and a morgue, I wandered around the piles of bed sheet covered bodies sleeping on the floor and found one man taking up two seats. I grunted and he grudgingly moved his duffel bag as I took a seat. I reached into my backpack and dug out my trusty blue travel pillow. As I inflated it with several deep breaths, the sleepy eyes of the other travellers suddenly shifted towards me as if I was the most peculiar sight in the room. I placed it around my neck and slept soundly until daybreak.

*****

"Man should forget his anger before he lies down to sleep." ~ Mahatma Gandhi

Hands On Experience

Indian guy: Are all you foreigners like this?
Me: Yes.
Indian guy: This is weird, yaar.

A conversation about cultural differences between India and the West that had centred around the usage of coconut oil versus gel for hair styling had segwayed into man's favourite topic.

Indian guy: I had heard before that abroad people wipe their a** and don't wash their a** but I never believed it until you confirmed it.
Me: It's true.
Indian guy: This is very unhygienic. You know, after going to the toilet you should wash.
Me: I always wash my hands afterwards.
Indian guy: Not just your hands...
Me: I use toilet paper for that. I wipe and I wipe until the paper is white. That way my hand stays clean for when I eat. No poo stuck in my finger nails.
Indian guy: We don't use the same hand for eating. God gave you two hands for a reason! And what about your underwear? Do you wash that?
Me: Once in 3 months.
Indian guy: Ugggh. What about in airplanes? Are there Indian style toilets there?
Me: Nope. 
Indian guy: Not even on Air India?
Me: No. Maybe you can use the water from the sink and slosh it around.
Indian guy: My god, this is horrible. I am learning new things today that I never imagined before.

After several moments of quiet contemplation, he had the last laugh.

Indian guy: You know all the pretty Indian girls. They also all use their hands.

I'm Daman

Only a few hours north of Bombay are the union territories of Daman and Dadra & Nagar Haveli. They are accessible via Gujarat, where the nearest rail head of Vapi is situated. I grabbed a rickshaw to Daman. The driver asked me which Daman I wanted to go to. I looked at him blankly and told him to take me to the one that had hotels. It turned out the main town is called Moti Daman (Fat Daman) while the secluded beach side resort community is called Nani Daman (Small Daman). I found a hotel fitting my meager budget in Nani Daman, ate lunch by the rocky beach, and negotiated a tour of the surroundings with a rickshaw driver.

We ventured to the two Portuguese forts in the region, one in Moti Daman and one across the Damanganga River in Nani Daman. I climbed to the top of a lighthouse to admire the view, the rickety spiral staircase shaking as violently as the disturbed man who had sat beside me on the train. The four hundred year old Church of Bom Jesus was my next stop, before capping of the day at Jampore Beach. Gujarat is a dry state, so its borders are demarcated by a string of boozeries rather than barbed wire fencing. I imbibed at one of Jampore's many beachfront watering holes with my driver. The next morning, I found myself having breakfast at his home.

After sobering up, the driver had taken me home to meet his wife. The rest of his family would be visiting the next day, so he invited me over for breakfast then. Despite being in his early forties, he was already a grandfather. They fed me chapatis, eggs, and sauce. Post breakfast, I said goodbye to Daman and headed to Silvassa, the capital of Dadra & Nagar Haveli. While Daman is to the east of Vapi, Silvassa is to the west. I walked around the sleepy town for several hours, checking out the tribal museum and local gardens before catching a shared rickshaw back to Vapi. My bus back to Bombay was scheduled to leave after midnight, so I asked to be dropped at a local movie theater where I could pass the time.

Vapi is the fourth most polluted city in the world. The rest of the cities on the list pretty much map to the ones I visited in China. It was fitting that in this dirty city I would watch a movie called Dirty Picture. The film was about a voluptuous siren's rapid rise to fame in the Indian movie industry, and subsequent fall from grace. There were no females in the audience. Every time the lead actress displayed an ounce of flesh, the local men started baying like a pack of hyenas, cheering, whistling, and yelling obscenities that would have offended my delicate sensibilities had I been able to understand them.

*****

"Bootiful?" - Rickshaw driver, after examining the photo he had clicked of me on my camera

Battle of Pratapgad

The man in Maharashtra is Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. The warrior king from the 17th century established a Maratha empire through his courage and guile. Anyone who has had the luxury of growing up in the state has heard about his heroics from childhood. He is so popular in Bombay that it is possible to land at Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport, catch a train to Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus, and stroll down to the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya  museum in the same day.

 
Some of Shivaji's defining moments took place at Pratapgad, a stronghold as impenetrable as the bedroom of a traditional Indian girl who lives with her parents. I visited the fort here, which is located near the hill station of Mahabaleshwar. Set a thousand meters above sea level amidst unforgiving steep terrain on all sides, Pratapgad Fort is a demotivating site for enemies.

The Adilshahi forces of Afzal Khan clashed against the Maratha might of Shivaji at the base of the fort. With his troops outnumbered 3:1, Shivaji still came out on top. He met Afzal Khan in person to discuss a peace treaty. The negotiations came to an amicable end courtesy of an Afzal Khan disembowelment by Shivaji's previously concealed tiger claw. His troops then went on to route the Adilshahi troops, marking Shivaji's first significant victory on the way to establishing a Maratha kingdom.

*****

“Shivaji possessed every quality requisite for success in the disturbed age in which he lived: cautious and wily in council, he was fierce and daring in action; he possessed an endurance that made him remarkable even amongst his hardy subjects, and an energy and decision that would in any age raised him to distinction." ~  Sir E. Sullivan

Mr. Tea

Strolling through the dark alleys of the Fort district of Mumbai towards my flat, I deftly sidestepped a taxi, two scooters, a man balancing a marble slab on his head, and several slow walkers before stopping at a mobile phone stall to top up my prepaid account. Suddenly, I felt a strange splotch on my neck. Not again! I thought, recalling my prior experiences in the turd world.

I took a sample of the ooze slowly tracing itself down my spine with my fingers. I was surprised to find out it was not poo, and a little worried that it might be something even more nefarious than bird droppings. The grime turned out to be the harmless contents of a tea cup that someone had emptied from the window of his or her second or third floor apartment. After my roommate studied the stains, he confirmed my findings and all was well on Modi Street once more.

****

"Tea, though ridiculed by those who are naturally coarse in their nervous sensibilities will always be the favorite beverage of the intellectual." ~ Thomas de Quincey

MTR

Fans of Mass Transit Railways, Marginal Tax Rates, and Methionine Synthase Reductase may be dissapointed, but anyone who enjoys eating food will not be after enjoying a hearty lunch at Mavali Tiffin Room (MTR). My flatmate Shyam and I decided to go to Bangalore's favourite restaurant. The fare was vegeterian but delicious nonetheless. Not too spicy and not too pricy, what the landmark lacked in visual appearance it more than made up for in taste.

The service was extraordinary, not because I could distinguish the waiters from the clientele, but because how quickly empty plates were filled up within moments of the eater licking them clean. After the main course, ice cream was even served. I was encouraged to taste everything by the waiter who once noticed my hesitation at the appearance of some strange looking dishes. With our hunger satiated and our bellies expanded, we left our table satisfied. .0237 seconds later our seats were occupied by the next batch of eager diners.

*****

"Food is our common ground, a universal experience." - James Beard

Nightmare on Modi Street

I have moved into a flat in the Fort area of Mumbai. It is a short walk from Victoria Terminus, the main train station in town. Up three stories of rickety stairs is my claustrophobic domicile. The stairwell is so dark that a flashlight is required even in the daytime to see the steps clearly. There are no windows in some rooms, although there is air conditioning.

Since the cost of the electricity consumed by the AC is included in the rent, which is apparently a rarity in Bombay, the tenants take full advantage of it. The average temperature inside is more akin to Canada than India. While I lay curled up and shivering at night, that is not what keeps me awake. Perhaps it is the bedbugs or perhaps it is the landlord, his brothers, and other lackeys who stay up all night watching TV at maximum volume. Tamil movies and the Indian version of "Who Wants To Be a Millionaire" garner the highest ratings.

The apartment has two bathrooms, one of which has a shower and one a sink without a faucet. Unluckily, I share it with 13 other men. There is another sink outside, which is used for washing vegetables and brushing teeth. One guy uses so much Axe body spray that it burns my eyes. Another gripes continuously about a long list of problems that life has thrown at him in a thick accent. His roommates listen on silently, either because they are captivated by the minutiae of his life or because they can sleep with their eyes open. I later realized he was talking on the phone to his girlfriend or fiance, whom he may or may not have met in real life.

So far I have stayed in three rooms. I was shuttled from one room to another, when the guy whose bed I had been sleeping in initially arrived back at the apartment at dawn one day. He had gone back home to visit his family. I was relocated to the bed of another resident who was away on a business trip. Upon his return, I shifted to the room of the only guy who cooks in the apartment. Since there are no tables in the flat, he eats on his bed. He cannot eat out since he is recovering from jaundice.

*****

Me: They also smoke, fart, and ball scratch.

Friend: Looks like you've found your tribe...well done!

Blowing In The Wind

How many roads must a man walk down,

before you call him a man?

My career as a public servant lasted through university. I quickly transitioned to the private sector after graduation, whereupon I allowed notorious companies such as Satyam to profit from my talents. Endowed with responsibility and managerial powers from a young age, I never maximized the amount of rent that I could extract from my employers as long as I enjoyed my work. When the excitement cooled and the learning peaked, it was an automatic trigger to explore new opportunities.

And how many times can a man turn his head,

and pretend that he just doesn't see?

Having spent two and a half unforgettable years in China, it was time to shift gears. After completing a circuit of Southeast Asia, I came to Mumbai. In a country where 58% of children do not complete primary school and only 6% of the population make it to university, I entered the non profit space for the first time. I joined Teach For India, a movement of young leaders intent on ending educational inequity in the nation.

The answer my friend is blowing in the wind,

the answer is blowing in the wind.

- Bob Dylan

Humble Beginnings

After I started working in Mumbai, an HR lady gathered some information on me so that she could share my profile information with the rest of the staff.

HR: So what are your strengths?
Me: Smart, handsome, responsible, versatile, hard working, well traveled, ...
HR: Are these your strengths or your praises?
Me: Is there a difference?
HR: ... And why aren't you smiling in your photo?
Me: I usually don't smile in my pictures.
HR: Why? Are you afraid you won't look good when you are smiling?
Me: No, I look good either way.
HR: Aren't you modest!
Me: Oh yes, add humility to my list of strengths.
HR: ...

*****

"In reality there is perhaps not one of our natural passions so hard to subdue as pride. Disguise it, struggle with it, beat it down, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, and will every now and then peep out and show itself...For even if I could conceive that I had completely overcome it, I should probably be proud of my humility." - Benjamin Franklin

My Name is Arnab

When an exiled hero returned home after many years having vanquished a demon king, his countrymen laid out rows and rows of lighted lamps ("deepavali") to welcome him back. Nowadays Deepavali, or Diwali in condensed form, marks the triumph of good over evil. Observed by many people in different parts of the world, the festival of light has transcended religious and national boundaries. Every year the Indian Embassy in China hosts a cultural event to celebrate Diwali.

This was my second Diwali in Beijing. I had met my good friend Swathish during the previous year's jamboree, so we commemorated our one year anniversary in style. After a brief speech by the Indian ambassador which I missed, Indian and Chinese performers sang and danced to both traditional and modern tunes. This was followed by a fireworks extravaganza and then dinner, which was the primary motivation for attendance for a large segment of the audience. Accompanied by an ARNABombshell and several other ARNABuddies, Swathish and I retraced our steps from the previous year. We concluded the evening with a nightcap at a lake side bar cosily located within nearby Ritan Park, the beats of Bollywood music still resonating in the background.

As I was leaving the embassy premises, I heard someone calling my name. "Arnab! Arnab! Arnab!". I saw an Indian lady I did not recognize rush towards me. I was unperturbed. A man of my immense dignity is accustomed to receiving outpourings of affection from random females. "Arnab! Arnab!". The woman continued past me to a child who had wandered on to the street. Now I was intrigued. She picked up the infant and let out a sigh of relief. "Arnaaaab". I was no longer the only Arnab in town! I looked at her and said "My name is Arnab". She gave me a look of disdain before walking back into the embassy with her son in tow.

*****

"Happy Diwali!"

Coorg

Coorg is a scenic locality in Karnataka filled with rolling green hills under clear blue skies. I went with a group of friends and friends of friends to the "Scotland of India" during a weekend escape from Bangalore. Most of the time was spent relaxing in a secluded cabin set amidst a verdant valley.

We took an elephant ride around a park, climbing onto the pachyderm by means of a stairwell that ended where the the giant beast's backside began. Bylakuppe, the second largest Tibetan settlement in India, was located nearby. We had lunch at the local monk hangout. The monks at Namdroling Monastery were quite modern, shelling out rupees at the corner store for such earthly delights as toilet paper and India’s favorite soft drink Thums Up.

*****

"Mark how fleeting and paltry is the estate of man: yesterday in embryo, tomorrow a mummy or ashes. So for the hair's breadth of time assigned to thee live rationally, and part with life cheerfully, as drops the ripe olive, extolling the season that bore it and the tree that matured it." ~ Marcus Aurelius

Uttara Kannada

Uttara Kannada is a region within the Indian state of Karnataka. Bordering Goa, quieter versions of its famed beaches dot the coastline of Uttara Kannada. Some of my relatives were living in the seaside town of Karwar, the administrative headquearters of the district. I went to visit as I was working nearby in Bangalore. On the coast of the Arabian Sea, Karwar's natural harbour made it an historically important port. Arab, Dutch, Portuguese, French, and British seafarers all anchored here in the past.

Apart from Karwar, other popular attractions we visited in the area were Gokarna and Jog Falls. An important temple town for Hindus, Gokarna is also a popular hangout for dreadlocked hippies. Some temples did not allow foreigners to enter, incurring my wrath and upsetting my stomach. The road to Jog Falls was long and winding, further burdening my intestines. The multiple streams of Jog Falls plunge directly downwards for over 250 meters, making it the highest untiered waterfall in India. I had recovered from my stomach ache but Jog Falls was not yet at full strength, awaiting the heavy rains of the monsoon season to increase its flow of water.

*****

Famed Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore visited Karwar when he was 22 years old, the same age I was when I set foot on its sandy shores:

"The sea beach of Karwar is certainly a fit place in which to realize that the beauty of nature is not a mirage of the imagination, but reflects the joy of the infinite and thus draws us to lose ourselves in it. Where the universe is expressing itself in the magic of its laws it may not be strange if we miss its infinitude; but where the heart gets into immediate touch with immensity in the beauty of the meanest of things, is any room left for argument?"

Damsel Drop Off

When working late in Indian cities, women are often concerned about making their way home safely at night. There is a chance that they will be harassed by men with ill intentions if they are alone. Companies in the booming IT industry did not take this matter lightly. To reduce the chance of any untoward incidents that could potentially occur when darkness strikes, Satyam provided a late night taxi service for all employees.

The taxi would drop ladies off at their doorsteps in case they had to do overtime work. A precautionary measure was also taken so that the taxi driver and a female employee were not the last two people remaining in the vehicle, as he could also pose a threat. A male employee would be dropped off last, even if it meant taking a more roundabout route. This ensured that at no point would a lady be alone with a predatory man - two or more perhaps, but never just one.

On the few occasions when all the other menfolk had already left the office, I would sacrifice my personal hours to ensure the safety of any damsels who had to work late. My warm heart and strong body provided them with a sense of security during the taxi ride. I would gallantly escort them to their doors, and they would give me a shy smile before going inside. Once at home, the lady could call a company switchboard operator to give notice that they were safe and sound.

*****

"True manhood doesn't seek to compromise a woman's purity. True manhood stands up to heroically protect it." ~ Unknown

People's Liberation

About to head off from Bangalore to Mahabalipuram for a beach weekend, a Korean and I made our way to the Majestic bus station. A bus heading to our destination arrived punctually at our scheduled departure time of 9:30 pm. We got on, only to be informed that this was actually the 8:30 pm bus. We got off and waited. In due time I headed off to the washroom. The dutiful Koreanette remained at the bus stop to watch over my travel gear.

I entered the public bathroom and found all the water closets occupied. Several uncomfortable minutes passed and the situation remained the same. I discovered that all the stalls were locked from the inside except for one. I could still hear noises coming from inside this one though. The stench was most foul. A poor soul seemed to be trapped inside, seeking deliverance at the hands of a fellow potty patron. I unlocked the door, and out popped a beleaguered looking fellow who quickly ran outside. I do not know how long he had been dwelling in the commode.

******************

"A hero is someone who understands the responsibility that comes with his freedom." - Bob Dylan

Roaches

Apart from mosquitoes and birds, my third main nemesis in India was the cockroach. No matter how many I disposed of, dozens would spring up to replace their fallen brethren. Many came into direct contact with the soles of my sandals. Others were coated with toxic subtances emitted by cans of bug spray. Some were flushed down the drain, swirling into oblivion. The objectionable creatures were resilient, surviving even after taking considerable punishment. They hid in my cabinet and under my bed, in the shower and under my bedsheets. They lived in my room and in my nightmares. Being an amicable fellow, I never deliberately hunted them down. Our coexistence was peaceful until they disturbed my serenity. They would rear their ugly heads when I least expected it, forcing me into taking defensive measures for the protection of my sanity.

Studies have shown that the antibodies needed to fight of cocroach allergens makes people more susceptible to asthma and other allergies. They are the ultimate survivors, having randomized escape patterns so that their enemies cannot predict their trajectories. Most horrific of all were the cockroaches that could fly. Combining their powers of indestructibiliy with airborne capabilities, they made for a very formidable foe. The epic struggle escalated. Usually every room in an India room has at least one resident gecko responsible for insect control. I enlisted the aid of these little lizards called 'tik-tikis'. They thoroughly enjoyed munching on the disgusting critters. 

Incredible !ndia

While crossing the street in front of my office building in Vancouver, I noticed an interesting message plastered on a public bus passing by. "Not all Indians are polite, hospitable and vegeterian" it boldly stated.

 

Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/eyalnow/ 

The punchline was the picture of a Bengal tiger underneath staring right back. The Government of India's Ministry of Tourism promotes the nation through the Incredible !ndia campaign. This eye catching advertisement was a step in the right direction for marketing one of the world's premier tourist destinations.

The Wagah Border

In 1947 India was partitioned into two sovereign nations by the British. India and Pakistan were born amidst much bloodshed and suffering, and a rivalry has existed ever since. Lahore, the capital of Pakistan, is only around 50 kilometers from Amritsar. The only road border between these two is located near the village of Wagah at the Attari-Wagah joint check post. The border crossing hosts a daily flag lowering ceremony at sundown. Soldiers from both countries shout patriotic slogans, march, and simultaneously lower the flags as onlookers cheer on from both sides.

Following a quick meal in Amritsar, we caught a local bus heading in the general direction of Pakistan. After taking the public bus as far as it would go, Stein and I hopped onto a cycle rickshaw, before walking the final few hundred metres to the border region. There was a festival atmosphere complete with spontaneous outbursts of dancing, tasty treats being sold by vendors, and lots of families with children present. As the time for the ceremony drew near, the soldiers wisely divided the crowd based on gender. A limited amount of stadium seating is available to watch the ceremony, and it is subdivided into sections for men and women. The unruly male segment of the crowd started pushing and climbing over each other in order to get a prime viewing position. It was reminiscent of the grape crushing portion of the wine making process. As the ceremony came to an end, everyone spilled on to the street to take photos with the soldiers, the large gate separating the two countries visible in the background.

*****

"Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny, and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance."

- Jawaharlal Nehru, India's first Prime Minister on the eve of independence

Shatabdi Express to Amritsar

After a few days wandering around Delhi and a day trip to the Taj in Agra, it was time for Stein and I to head of to the Punjab. We had an early morning train to catch. Homeless people were still asleep on the floors of the train platform as we boarded the Shatabdi Express to Amritsar. The Shatabdi trains are the fastest in the Indian Railways fleet, equipped with such luxuries as air conditioning, a one litre bottle of packaged drinking water, and newspapers. Meals are also served on board. A little before lunchtime we arrived in Amritsar. A friend of a friend picked us up from the station and took us to the Golden Temple, the holiest site for followers of the Sikh faith.

After purchasing a pair of orange coloured bandanas to cover our heads we entered the place of worship. Guests are welcome to stay within the complex. Accommodation and food is provided to all. We were given a room in one of the niwases ("houses"). After making sure we were comfortable, the friend of a friend suggested we visit the Pakistani border and bid us farewell.