An Indian turn of phrase II

Learning curve for teacher, taught
"You cannot expect to work in comfort when you step out to help the underprivileged."

Public Notice
Public at large is hereby informed that my clients X have disowned Y, son and brother of my clients...(who are not responsible for any acts, deeds, things done by Y as he is not under their control.

Guess who Baichung's been playing with?Baichung (Indian football team captain) has come home charged with newer goals, pun intended, and plans. He had a ball, literally, at the tournament.

Reeks of successAn advertising world first has been launched in London - pitvertising. The innovative new concept uses digital TV screens built into the armpits of shirts...some were clearly impressed, but others thought it was the pits...

Subservience

I still can't get used to some aspects of life over here.

For example, if you want to get something done, even the most menial task, you can usually pay someone else to do it. In the office we have an army of men who bring us tea or coffee whenever we ask for it, and will fetch our food should we order it in. I have started buying a simple lunch from across the road, a mixture of rice, beans, curry, 15Rs (bargain!) and whenever I go to pick this up myself I am greeted with looks of astonishment!

Firstly, my fellow workers say I should just call the guys up and get them to collect it. Then, the guys themselves smile and laugh at me when they see me walking outside. And lastly, the men standing around at the corner eaterie can't take their eyes off me! It's like they are all shocked that I would make the two minute trip out of the comfort of the office when I could just send someone to do it for me! Then when I carry the plate of food back in I attract more stares and amusement!

The thing is I enjoy going out of the office, even if it is only for a minute. It's nice to take a break and see what's going on in the outside world. Sometimes it'll be pouring down with sheets of rain, others it's baking hot sunshine, either way, I enjoy it...and I feel kind of embarrassed at asking someone else to carry out such a simple task for me, you know? If you've got legs, why not use them!

An Indian guy I met over the weekend told me he was so used to a maid doing his washing, cooking, cleaning etc that when he moved to Dubai with his job within days he was at a complete loss of what to do domestically! He couldn't figure out how to wash his clothes, and so he bought just new ones. After a few weeks he realised this was proving far too costly so called up another Indian who was also working there, BUT who did know how to cook and clean, and begged this man to come and live with him for free as long as he would do the household chores! There was genuine fear on my friend's face as he told this; to him it was just a way of life that if you afford to pay someone to do something, why do it yourself?

And this, I think, is something I'll never get used to.

Can anyone tell me the worst, or most bizarre task they've ever paid someone else to do?

Delhi street-life

Weaving along the busy, thronging streets of Delhi, a sweet smell suddenly envelops your nostrils, displacing any other sensation of the body. It is the smell emanating from cobs of corn slowly being cooked over endless rows of recently created coal fires, the embers of which glow and crackle in the dark of the night. Old women; young men; boys; a disparate group, fan these coals to encourage the heat, many using the faded green leaves the cob began life within. Nimbly turning the blackened cops atop the hot coals, I wonder, who this sweet-smelling delicacy is for?

I have yet to see one being eaten, could they be purely for self-consumption? Surely not, else why set up these ingenious, makeshift stoves by the side of the main roads? My guess is they are sold to the auto-drivers; a early form of the drive-through, for the men who maintain the autonomy of Delhi through their constant ferrying of men and women to work. This allows us to achieve a progression of sorts in our jobs; we earn our monthly income which enables us in turn to pay the richshaw-wallahs. Where does their money go, I ask myself? To support families living in makeshift houses, slums or villages outside the city?

Coming home from the bar late at night last week I saw many drivers asleep in the back seat of their rickshaw, so do they serve a double purpose then as sleeping quarters also? Probably. I think they must work as often or as long as possible, only returning home for brief respite to wash and see loved ones, before once more back into the saddle. Do they own their rickshaws? Highly doubtful, they must rent these clever, little machines, whose engines are made by Harley Davidson no less, I learnt the other day, which might explain why the auto drivers work all hours of the day.

After a while I have become sick of haggling with them over 10, 20 rupees. Although I understand they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with ripping off a foreigner, I do respect that they will try to raise it but at the end of the day what is 15 pence really worth to me? Certainly a lot less than it means to them, that’s not being arrogant but just simple fact.

So the street sellers supply the rickshaw drivers who rely on us fro service as much as we rely on them to get around. Thus mouths are fed, lives are led and the wheels of this wonderful city, like my rickshaw, keep on turning.

A farangi in Delhi

To be engulfed by the incredible scenes of Delhi by rickshaw is an exhilarating experience; a sensory overload bursting forth, giving the city a vibrant, organic feel. The air, heavy with water, becomes an extension of the ground, so you feel you are pushing through some mass all the time; it’s hot, it’s humid and it’s sticky.

I managed to lose myself down some dark streets deep within the underbelly of Delhi yesterday, see what I did there? Stubbornly refusing to admit I was lost, or going in the wrong direction, I continued, the light abating with every step. But the people were happy, negating the shadows; smiling, shouting at me, ‘Good morning sir!’ ‘Gora, come here!’, going about their daily lives, with no sense of struggle or hardship, no, these Indians were a joy to behold, especially the children. Playing in the water, barefoot, oblivious to the harsh reality (as it appeared to me) around them. Inventing games using only tiny stones on the side of the road; theirs was carefree, uplifting existence.

All kinds of inanimate objects- girders, fresh fruit, wicker baskets, clay pots, loaded onto every mode of transport you could possibly imagine, before setting off, through the mud and puddles, with seemingly no hope of reaching their destination, either the rickety contraptions falling apart entirely or being knocked off them, but I bet those people do make it you know… no pavements, so people walk on the roads, oblivious to the trucks, carts, bikes that go flying by…rickshaws competing for the smallest possible gaps, dusty old buses, crammed full, with no windows or doors, moving at full speed as passengers jump on and off. A cacophony of horns beeping CONSTANTLY. The transport system shouldn’t work, but it does, somehow…

Cows everywhere! Wandering, free, all powerful! Groups of cows simply standing in the streets, it’s an incredible, wonderful sight, it certainly makes me think about how the cows are perceived here, revered. What is the significance of the cow?

It’s been a fascinating, eye-opening first week in Delhi to say the least. The disparity of Delhi to London is far greater than I imagined, I think it’s because the divide between rich and poor is greatly accentuated here, and that only a very small minority of people here are well off, but to the extent of such immense wealth that allows them to live like royalty, not that I’ve found any of these socia-elite Delhiites yet!

I have however, engaged, at least on some level, with a multitude of the Delhi population, of which there are probably 15 million. In my nightmare quest to register as a foreigner living here I also met other similarly unhinged people who have chosen Delhi as their home. An eclectic mix of races, nationalities, colours- Buddhist monks, a Chinese girl (I kept the peace), a student from the Congo, a girl from Tuzbekestan, a highly amusing American guy. I only got to know them due to the 6 hours we spent queuing in the cramped, stale office, watching helplessly as the power cut out maybe at least 10 times, disabling lights, computers, fans-not ideal.

The beauty of Delhi is you learn something new every day…I’m busy observing the head-wiggle at the moment; the Indian sign for agreement, acknowledgement, happiness, just about any positive expression combined into one, continuous, emphatic movement!

An Indian turn of phrase

A selection of phrases that appeared in the Indian newspapers over the weekend:

Blame $146 oil on speculators, US house told
'The US has been burning the midnight oil trying to find...'

Schoolboys shoot at man, loot Rs 6 Lakh
'...the bag contained a list of phone numbers. This helped us identify the students, whom we shall soon nab.'

Man who fired in Priya complex after row held
'He is allegedly of bad character of Bhajanpura.'

Six injured in clash at Vikaspuri
'Police attributed the violence to an attempt to settle old scores...'

Penguin's falling victim to showers
'It's not just melting ice. It's actually killing these cute little birds that are so popular in the movies.'

A life lost and found
'At a time, he even slept with a dead body and ran wild to catch a running train. But he fought and survived.'