November 10, 2006

Kerala

Diwali and Eid, major festivals for Hindus and Muslims respectively, occur within a week of each other and have merged into an unofficial weeklong national holiday. During DiwalEid I planned to escape the urban chaos of Bangalore for the luxurious greenery and beaches of Kerala. With catchphrases such as “On earth there is no heaven, only pieces of it…” and “God’s Own Country”, Kerala was able to live up to its boasts.

My trip began in Cochin, a collection of islands and an area on the mainland that combine to form a natural harbor. Some of its attractions are Chinese fishing nets, the oldest church in India, and a Jewish settlement (appropriately known as Jewtown). Next I went on a 22 hour backwater trip through the canals and waterways of Kerala while relaxing on a houseboat complete with cook, pilot, and a motor. I was accompanied by a German.

Following this we headed to the capital city of Kerala, Trivandrum and visited beaches such as Varkala and Kovalam. One day was spent journeying to the neighboring state of Tamil Nadu to visit the tip of India – Kanyakumari. A brief but turbulent ferry ride transported me to the Vivekananda Rock Memorial and a giant statue. Adhering to Indian subcontinental tradition, the ferry was overloaded. At this point, the Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean, and Arabian Sea converge and it is possible to see the different shades of water.

November 09, 2006

Bangalore Bound

For my transfer to Bangalore from Hyderabad, Satyam generously provided me with two weeks of hotel stay. The hotel was located in a central part of Bangalore called Austin Town. To be more precise, it was officially in Austin Town Extension, or “Echechu” as the rickshaw drivers preferred to call it. My first impressions of Bangalore were below expectations. When coming to Hyderabad I had no expectations, and they were greatly exceeded. For Bangalore, on the other hand, I was expecting a shining IT hub. What I saw resembled more of a petting zoo than the “Silicon Valley of India”. Apart from the generic cows and dogs encountered on many Indian streets, there were also chickens, goats, boars, rodents, and horses roaming around. The sewers are covered by a series of imaginatively shaped concrete slabs which combine to form the sidewalks. Frequently they are missing, leaving holes of varying sizes for the inattentive passerby to trip on or fall into. What Bangalore does have in common with North American metropolises is the congested traffic and heavy pollution, which causes me great discomfort.

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To my added disappointment, mixed accommodation, even for foreigners, (i.e. Males and females living in the same apartment) was a taboo. This was unlike Hyderabad or Chennai, two places considered to be much more conservative in their outlook. Thus my options were reduced to (1) living with non-Indian males or (2) living with Indian males. The decision between these two undesirable options came down to one thing – bathrooms. Option (1) would have involved sharing 3 bathrooms between 14 people, and option (2), 3 bathrooms between 8 people. Option (2) prevailed due to its superior 14:3 male:bathroom ratio. Incidentally, that is also the male:female coworker ratio at Satyam, which is still preferable to the 9:1 ratio encountered in the Computer Science department at university. I moved into a flat in a residential area of Bangalore called Cooke Town by some and Cox Town by others. Cockroaches have an affinity to my room in this flat, particularly to my bed sheet and towel. Being a noble and glorious soul, I bought a canister containing some form of poison gas and went on a cockroach crusade.

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ARNABombshell Update: Cold (or 25 degrees for Indians). The absence of female flatmates, an average 9pm curfew for girls staying in hostels, paying guests, or with their parents, and vegetarian dietary habits severely restricts my access to or interest in the Bangalore bombshells.

October 31, 2006

Saucy Seconds

For the second time in as many months my Arnab Sense failed me, and again I was the unknowing victim of an aerial assault. I only noticed the malodorous kernels once I had sat down and my hand had skimmed a gooey substance. I discovered a partially dry beige stain on my right pant leg. Previously, I had disregarded the stench as that of the sweaty locals, my own ArnabBO, or a potent combination thereof. It must be mentioned that ArnaBO (Body Odor) is most effective in neutralizing the raw attractive force generated by the ArnaBeard. Following the advice of my elders who had informed me that heavenly bombardment is a blessed event after the previous incident, I wore the same pants for the rest of the day.

*****

Advice on ARNABride from a concerned citizen: "You have to find the girl who you can always want to take care of her because you so so like her."

October 11, 2006

I'm Not Your Mom

Female Korean flatmate (no longer beguiled by my masculine charms): Like you know, I’m not your mom who have to do everything for you.

Maid in Hyderabad

At my Hyderabad house, not to be confused with the restaurant Hyderabad House where I partake in some delightful biryani, we employed the services of an old and rather useless maid. Her daily routine consisted of clearing out all the empty cans, glasses, and bottles she could find in the flat and then getting a refund for it. Dishes were halfheartedly washed, the floor was swept once a month, and the bathroom was ignored altogether. With heavy hearts, my roommates and I decided to terminate her employment and acquire a new maid. After heated debate, we settled on a teenager/young adult who lived in our garage. Very enthusiastic at the prospect of regular employment, the new maid regularly made us tea, folded my clothes, made my bed, etc...

As was the case with the previous one, this maid also did not speak a word of English or Hindi, knowing only Telugu. Communication occurred primarily in the form of hand gestures and facial expressions (of which I have a limited repertoire), but was largely successful. When she appeared at the doorstep decked out in her finest traditional Indian clothing on the day of the Ganesh festival and kept asking if I wanted her to sweep the floor, it was easy to determine that she was asking for a day off. The occasional misunderstanding did occur though, such as when my flatmate from Dubai could not locate his CD collection. He queried the maid for the whereabouts of his media, but the maid confused his question for an accusation of theft. For the next few days she had a sad face containing evidence of heavy tearfall. The source of her misery was deduced through masterful interpretation of linguistic nuances, and the Telugu speaking landlord was asked to speak to her and clarify the situation.