Today I learnt something good about the previous Indian government. Our ex-Prime Minister, Atal Behari Vajpayee, had a vision about improving the infrastructure of the country. He proposed the construction of an extensive four-lane highway called the Golden Quadrilateral. It would connect the four metros, New Delhi in the North, Mumbai in the West, Chennai in the South and Kolkata in the East. Phase two would be a North-South and East-West Highway, completing the connectivity of the four metros. Phase three would connect all cities in each state to the nearest metro. Phase four would connect all rural areas to the nearest city.
It’s about time somebody had the vision of improving the country’s road system. The main issue would be funding for this project, which is touted to be the biggest in the world currently. Again, Vajpayee had a stroke of genius. He levied a tax on fuel: Re.1 per liter of petrol and diesel. This guaranteed a constant flow of income to the project. I am impressed with the foresight of this man, who I always held in low regard until now, because of all the communal violence that he appears to condone or even inculcate.
The project has brought our country’s economy to a new boom. Core industries have been given a shot in the arm. Steel, construction, road machinery and numerous other industries have been given a lease of life. Employment is on the rise; money is flowing and will continue to do so. The new highways should result in better traffic regulation, better fuel economy, higher capacity trucks and reduced travel times. The project is expected to rapidly pay off the capital investment.
Kudos to the country’s leaders who had the foresight to sanction such a project, and I hope that the project will be guided to completion by the present government as well as the next ones to come. I look forward to the day when I can drive my own car and see all that this wonderful country has to offer, instead of planning 60 days in advance for want of railway tickets. My dream of an enjoyable road trip from Manali to Trivandrum, and from the Konkan to the Sunderbans may become a reality after all!
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Religion and Violence
Ok, that last cliché was a really bad way to end the last blog. Now for some serious musings.
I’ve often wondered why there are people in this world who indulge in violence and terrorism as part of their lives. Isn’t a peaceful existence the desire of every intelligent being? If not, is the destruction of life such a head rush, that people are willing to sacrifice their own life to do it? Why do people join terrorist groups, what would be the driving force behind such a life-altering decision?
I found a very convincing explanation in an author’s writings, which I quote below, ad verbatim.
"The psyche of the broad masses is accessible only to what is strong and uncompromising. Like a woman whose inner sensibilities are not so much under the sway of abstract reasoning but are always subject to the influence of a vague emotional longing for the strength that completes her being, and who would rather bow to the strong man than dominate the weakling – in like manner the masses of the people prefer the ruler to the suppliant and are filled with a stronger sense of mental security by a teaching that brooks no rival than by a teaching which offers them a liberal choice. They have very little idea of how to make such a choice and thus they are prone to feel that they have been abandoned. They feel very little shame at being terrorized intellectually and they are scarcely conscious of the fact that their freedom as human beings is impudently abused; and thus they have not the slightest suspicion of the intrinsic fallacy of the whole doctrine. They only see the ruthless force and brutality of its determined utterances, to which they always submit."
How true! And what better doctrine to capture the ruthlessness than religion! What essentially exists as a guiding principle and philosophy for life becomes a weapon to be manipulated and twisted to suit one’s own destructive intentions. We see it everywhere: Children being recruited into Madraasas to become suicide bombers; communal riots destroying India; Israel (enough said?); hate crimes across the globe. That’s all it takes, a firm and unyielding principle. The author of the above piece was Hitler, a master of manipulation, one who recognized this and used it to his utmost advantage.
Can man’s intelligence see through any of this meaningless carnage perpetrated around the world? Someday, I hope, every individual will see the light. Until then, we wait and watch. What else can we do?
Don’t know if I offended anybody by this blog. The only reason I write this is because I believe the day will come when the world will rise above the predicament it is hurtling towards. Some revolution will break the mould, and it will be soon enough. Maybe in my lifetime, I sit and wonder…
I’ve often wondered why there are people in this world who indulge in violence and terrorism as part of their lives. Isn’t a peaceful existence the desire of every intelligent being? If not, is the destruction of life such a head rush, that people are willing to sacrifice their own life to do it? Why do people join terrorist groups, what would be the driving force behind such a life-altering decision?
I found a very convincing explanation in an author’s writings, which I quote below, ad verbatim.
"The psyche of the broad masses is accessible only to what is strong and uncompromising. Like a woman whose inner sensibilities are not so much under the sway of abstract reasoning but are always subject to the influence of a vague emotional longing for the strength that completes her being, and who would rather bow to the strong man than dominate the weakling – in like manner the masses of the people prefer the ruler to the suppliant and are filled with a stronger sense of mental security by a teaching that brooks no rival than by a teaching which offers them a liberal choice. They have very little idea of how to make such a choice and thus they are prone to feel that they have been abandoned. They feel very little shame at being terrorized intellectually and they are scarcely conscious of the fact that their freedom as human beings is impudently abused; and thus they have not the slightest suspicion of the intrinsic fallacy of the whole doctrine. They only see the ruthless force and brutality of its determined utterances, to which they always submit."
How true! And what better doctrine to capture the ruthlessness than religion! What essentially exists as a guiding principle and philosophy for life becomes a weapon to be manipulated and twisted to suit one’s own destructive intentions. We see it everywhere: Children being recruited into Madraasas to become suicide bombers; communal riots destroying India; Israel (enough said?); hate crimes across the globe. That’s all it takes, a firm and unyielding principle. The author of the above piece was Hitler, a master of manipulation, one who recognized this and used it to his utmost advantage.
Can man’s intelligence see through any of this meaningless carnage perpetrated around the world? Someday, I hope, every individual will see the light. Until then, we wait and watch. What else can we do?
Don’t know if I offended anybody by this blog. The only reason I write this is because I believe the day will come when the world will rise above the predicament it is hurtling towards. Some revolution will break the mould, and it will be soon enough. Maybe in my lifetime, I sit and wonder…
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Right is right, Left is wrong!
"Right Hand Drive". So you sit on the right side seat of your car and drive, instead of on the left. And you drive on the left side of the road. After a while, you’ll get used to it, big deal, right? Dead wrong! That’s just the easy part. Here’s what you encounter when you actually do it, read through carefully and try to imagine it the next time you are in your car.
The stick shift is on your left hand. The wipers go from left to right. Weird, eh! The turn indicator is on the right side of the steering wheel. The wiper controls are on the left side. So when you have to take a last minute turn, the wipers start going crazy and everyone is honking at you. Overtaking is from the right side. It gets worse…
What happens if you end up in a traffic circle? They are confusing enough to begin with. Now, you have to go clockwise around them! That kills me every time. It is like you have been left-handed all your life; and suddenly one day you are thrust into a world that is entirely right-handed.
It’s not just driving. How about walking down a corridor or an aisle? Keep to the left side because people are walking towards you on the right side! And when you get to a door, open the left half! Or you’ll end up bashing an innocent someone’s nose in when he’s on the other side of the right half. While crossing the road, the kerb drill is in reverse. "Look right, look left, look right, then cross the road". Try it in America, and you are sure to get killed.
Apparently the first line of Suzuki cars that hit the Indian market had a big problem: The keyhole to lock the door was on the passenger side! It took them a year to figure out what went wrong with the marketing forecasts. The "New and Improved" version of the cars the next year had locks on both doors instead.
"Right Hand Drive" is a lifestyle, not just a way to drive. Get right on it, or get left behind!
The stick shift is on your left hand. The wipers go from left to right. Weird, eh! The turn indicator is on the right side of the steering wheel. The wiper controls are on the left side. So when you have to take a last minute turn, the wipers start going crazy and everyone is honking at you. Overtaking is from the right side. It gets worse…
What happens if you end up in a traffic circle? They are confusing enough to begin with. Now, you have to go clockwise around them! That kills me every time. It is like you have been left-handed all your life; and suddenly one day you are thrust into a world that is entirely right-handed.
It’s not just driving. How about walking down a corridor or an aisle? Keep to the left side because people are walking towards you on the right side! And when you get to a door, open the left half! Or you’ll end up bashing an innocent someone’s nose in when he’s on the other side of the right half. While crossing the road, the kerb drill is in reverse. "Look right, look left, look right, then cross the road". Try it in America, and you are sure to get killed.
Apparently the first line of Suzuki cars that hit the Indian market had a big problem: The keyhole to lock the door was on the passenger side! It took them a year to figure out what went wrong with the marketing forecasts. The "New and Improved" version of the cars the next year had locks on both doors instead.
"Right Hand Drive" is a lifestyle, not just a way to drive. Get right on it, or get left behind!
Monday, October 11, 2004
Food and the Atkins Diet
First day at work! It’s interesting, exciting, unnerving - even scary. Sort of like the first day at school. After getting past the usual paperwork, I get to my new desk. At 9:00 AM in the morning, I see the first of many perks of a job in India. The morning coffee dude walks past, hollering to see if anyone is interested. Of course I am! As I said, there is a guy for everything. The coffee machine is right at my desk! He usually returns at 2:30 PM for the afternoon tea session, and at 5:00 PM for the evening coffee. My colleagues usually roll in between 8:30 and 9:30 in the morning, and the morning coffee is a good way to catch up on yesterday.
Since there is also an assembly shop here, the canteen (cafeteria) is pretty big. "Wet Lunch" times are at 11:15, 12:00 and 12:45; while "Dry Lunch" is at 1:15. Now there’s an interesting concept – wet and dry lunches. Wet lunches consist of the usual South Indian grub – Rice, Sambhar or Dal (lentil soup), Rasam (mulligatawny soup), Sabzi or Palya (dry curry), papad, pickles (not the sissy American ones, it’s the real spicy Desi variety), buttermilk or yogurt and a fruit. Dry lunches, on the other hand, are composed of some interesting variations – Roti/Naan, Sabzi, Korma, Pulao, sometimes a sandwich or a "desi veggie burger". I dare you to eat the burger! – it’s an oil soaked patty on a wimpy half-bread with an onion on it – guaranteed cardiac arrest, and bad breath to go with it. All vegetarian of course.
Burgers bring me to an interesting topic. What the heck is a "veggie burger" supposed to be? A hamburger doesn’t have ham in it, but it is named so because it was first made in Hamburg. A cheeseburger does have cheese in it though. I found the concept of "imitation meat" burgers in the US to be hilarious. So, you want to be a vegetarian really bad, but love meat too much to stop eating it. Wallah! Here’s a burger that smells like meat, tastes like (crappy) meat, gives you all the heartburn that goes with it, but is completely vegetarian! On the other hand, I remember a vegetarian friend of mine ordering a Big Mac without the meat. I asked her why she paid $4.25 for it, instead of getting a 99 cent cheeseburger (or two)? She said she liked the sesame bread that came with the Big Mac, the cheeseburger bread was just ‘ordinary bread". Now I am thinking she should marry a dude on the Atkins diet, he will only be too happy to eat the meat and leave the Big Mac sesame bread for her!
Since there is also an assembly shop here, the canteen (cafeteria) is pretty big. "Wet Lunch" times are at 11:15, 12:00 and 12:45; while "Dry Lunch" is at 1:15. Now there’s an interesting concept – wet and dry lunches. Wet lunches consist of the usual South Indian grub – Rice, Sambhar or Dal (lentil soup), Rasam (mulligatawny soup), Sabzi or Palya (dry curry), papad, pickles (not the sissy American ones, it’s the real spicy Desi variety), buttermilk or yogurt and a fruit. Dry lunches, on the other hand, are composed of some interesting variations – Roti/Naan, Sabzi, Korma, Pulao, sometimes a sandwich or a "desi veggie burger". I dare you to eat the burger! – it’s an oil soaked patty on a wimpy half-bread with an onion on it – guaranteed cardiac arrest, and bad breath to go with it. All vegetarian of course.
Burgers bring me to an interesting topic. What the heck is a "veggie burger" supposed to be? A hamburger doesn’t have ham in it, but it is named so because it was first made in Hamburg. A cheeseburger does have cheese in it though. I found the concept of "imitation meat" burgers in the US to be hilarious. So, you want to be a vegetarian really bad, but love meat too much to stop eating it. Wallah! Here’s a burger that smells like meat, tastes like (crappy) meat, gives you all the heartburn that goes with it, but is completely vegetarian! On the other hand, I remember a vegetarian friend of mine ordering a Big Mac without the meat. I asked her why she paid $4.25 for it, instead of getting a 99 cent cheeseburger (or two)? She said she liked the sesame bread that came with the Big Mac, the cheeseburger bread was just ‘ordinary bread". Now I am thinking she should marry a dude on the Atkins diet, he will only be too happy to eat the meat and leave the Big Mac sesame bread for her!
Saturday, October 09, 2004
Tuesday's Gone With the Wind
It was an eventful Tuesday in Bangalore. I found a nice apartment complex with all amenities in the locality I wanted to be in and signed the lease. Here’s the catch: besides the rent being astronomical, the security deposit is 10 months’ rent. Remember the times when we used to bitch about the one month deposit in the US? How the heck am I supposed to shell out a 10 month deposit upfront? Apparently, everyone else does.
The company helped me out a lot with the initial setup concerns. They put me up in a Guest House until I found a place to live. Amenities included free food and laundry. They set me up with a company car until I bought one. They even signed the apartment lease in their name and paid the security deposit.
On the same Tuesday, I also put down the deposit on my used car. I’ll pick it up on Tuesday. It was about 7:00 PM when I got done with everything. Mom and I were driving back home from somewhere in the outskirts of the city. At a traffic light, I noticed that the bus in front of me was spewing smoke on to the front of my car. I mentioned this to Mom, so we both were cursing pollution in the city. Then we found that everyone else around was looking at us with stupid expressions. So I took a closer look and found out why. The smoke was emanating from under the hood of MY car! The engine temperature gauge had gone bonkers, reading somewhere above the "Very Hot" mark. I pulled over to the curb, opened up the hood and found to my dismay that all the radiator coolant was boiling over. All I could think of was the AAA. Since they weren’t around to offer me a tow halfway across the world, I had to call the local service guys to take the car away. The response time was great; they were at the site within 20 minutes of my distress call. In the meantime I had to deal with wannabe mechanics in the form of auto rickshaw drivers, random bikers and truck drivers, all of whom wanted to help me out in different ways.
Well, at least I take solace in the fact that it was my company car, not my own.
The company helped me out a lot with the initial setup concerns. They put me up in a Guest House until I found a place to live. Amenities included free food and laundry. They set me up with a company car until I bought one. They even signed the apartment lease in their name and paid the security deposit.
On the same Tuesday, I also put down the deposit on my used car. I’ll pick it up on Tuesday. It was about 7:00 PM when I got done with everything. Mom and I were driving back home from somewhere in the outskirts of the city. At a traffic light, I noticed that the bus in front of me was spewing smoke on to the front of my car. I mentioned this to Mom, so we both were cursing pollution in the city. Then we found that everyone else around was looking at us with stupid expressions. So I took a closer look and found out why. The smoke was emanating from under the hood of MY car! The engine temperature gauge had gone bonkers, reading somewhere above the "Very Hot" mark. I pulled over to the curb, opened up the hood and found to my dismay that all the radiator coolant was boiling over. All I could think of was the AAA. Since they weren’t around to offer me a tow halfway across the world, I had to call the local service guys to take the car away. The response time was great; they were at the site within 20 minutes of my distress call. In the meantime I had to deal with wannabe mechanics in the form of auto rickshaw drivers, random bikers and truck drivers, all of whom wanted to help me out in different ways.
Well, at least I take solace in the fact that it was my company car, not my own.
Friday, October 08, 2004
"So, what car do you drive?"
People often say that if you learn to drive in India, you can drive anywhere in the world. You have to do it yourself to know how true that statement is. Navigating through the city of Bangalore is an experience in itself. All road signs are in Kannada, the local language. And the local people give directions in the local language too! It’s like Micah (a Chinese colleague) on his first day in the USA, or like Josh (an American colleague) on his first day in China. Except that this is like stepping into a foreign country when I drive from New Jersey to Pennsylvania! But I digress; let me get back to the point.
Driving here is like a game of chess. The rickshaws are the black (and yellow) knights, moving in random directions and creating havoc. Bikes and scooters, sometimes even bicycles, are the bishops, since they always move diagonally in traffic. The buses are like maverick queens, running amok in the playground without turn signals or horns. Traffic cops are the rooks, simply standing there in their castle-like booths, watching the game unfold before them. And we are the poor little pawns in this dangerous sport, waiting for impending doom. They are all out to kill us, and there’s nowhere to run. Throw in some interesting diversions like fruit and vegetable carts on the streets, trucks standing in the middle of the highway, red signals and "Do Not Enter" signs that don’t mean anything to anybody between 8:00 PM and 8:00 AM, and you’ve got yourself a near-death experience every time you venture outside the comfort of your home.
So I decided to buy the cheapest, smallest used car until I get used to the chaos, or end up wrecking it really bad, and then venture a little more boldly into buying a new one. My initial thoughts of buying a bike vanished as soon as I took a whiff of the fresh morning air, full of acrid exhaust smoke and dust kicked up by the bus in front of me. Nothing but a 1999 Maruti-800 (a Geo Metro, only smaller and without power steering, is the closest resemblance) will do for me, and I will drive it to its limit of 60 km/h.
Looking at the sprawling city that is Bangalore and realizing that it is impossible to navigate through it without some guidelines; I went and bought a city map. So if you see a lost guy in the middle of a busy traffic intersection fumbling with a map trying to figure out which direction is north, think of me and have some pity on him. I feel like a lost bee in the middle of a beehive, looking at a gazillion honeycombs at once and trying to find his home in the maze. One good thing here is that you can make a U-turn pretty much anywhere you wish, so getting back on track is easy. Travel times are horrendous because of the traffic. It’s like a perpetual rush hour in the city. It takes me 45 minutes to travel 15 kilometers to work everyday.
Driving here is like a game of chess. The rickshaws are the black (and yellow) knights, moving in random directions and creating havoc. Bikes and scooters, sometimes even bicycles, are the bishops, since they always move diagonally in traffic. The buses are like maverick queens, running amok in the playground without turn signals or horns. Traffic cops are the rooks, simply standing there in their castle-like booths, watching the game unfold before them. And we are the poor little pawns in this dangerous sport, waiting for impending doom. They are all out to kill us, and there’s nowhere to run. Throw in some interesting diversions like fruit and vegetable carts on the streets, trucks standing in the middle of the highway, red signals and "Do Not Enter" signs that don’t mean anything to anybody between 8:00 PM and 8:00 AM, and you’ve got yourself a near-death experience every time you venture outside the comfort of your home.
So I decided to buy the cheapest, smallest used car until I get used to the chaos, or end up wrecking it really bad, and then venture a little more boldly into buying a new one. My initial thoughts of buying a bike vanished as soon as I took a whiff of the fresh morning air, full of acrid exhaust smoke and dust kicked up by the bus in front of me. Nothing but a 1999 Maruti-800 (a Geo Metro, only smaller and without power steering, is the closest resemblance) will do for me, and I will drive it to its limit of 60 km/h.
Looking at the sprawling city that is Bangalore and realizing that it is impossible to navigate through it without some guidelines; I went and bought a city map. So if you see a lost guy in the middle of a busy traffic intersection fumbling with a map trying to figure out which direction is north, think of me and have some pity on him. I feel like a lost bee in the middle of a beehive, looking at a gazillion honeycombs at once and trying to find his home in the maze. One good thing here is that you can make a U-turn pretty much anywhere you wish, so getting back on track is easy. Travel times are horrendous because of the traffic. It’s like a perpetual rush hour in the city. It takes me 45 minutes to travel 15 kilometers to work everyday.
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Background Noise
Mom was there to receive me; she had just come in 5 minutes ago. I guess she didn’t expect me to be out that fast. As soon as I got out of the airport on to the streets, the overwhelming noise engulfed me. I guess the guys against noise pollution know what they are talking about. Incessant honking in traffic, auto rickshaw drivers shouting at each other, cell phones ringing at top volume, loudspeakers blasting movie songs and hawkers selling their wares above the din. It will take me a while to adjust to the higher decibel level prevalent here. I never valued silence so much before. I attributed my lack of sleep over the next few days to jet-lag, but I guess it was more because of the noise. These days, I just shut my car windows and listen to the cassette player instead.
The first item of shopping was a 250 gram bar of detergent cake. I have to wash my own undies from now on! No Laundromats! Ah, the tragedy! Never thought of that before I moved back! Guess I’ll have to invest in a washing machine sooner than I thought…
One thing that you have to realize here, there is a person for everything that you need to do. And it’s all door-to-door service too!
At home: Need your clothes washed? Ask the dhobi, he’ll pick it up and drop it off 2 days later. Need your house cleaned? Your dishes washed? Ask the maid-servant – a vacuum-cum-mop-cum-dishwasher Super Lady, she’ll drop by thrice a week and do it, all for a nominal fee of course.
At work: Need stationery? Don’t look in the cabinet; ask Madam Surekha instead, she’s got it all. Need a photocopy? Ask Mr. Gopal, he’ll do it, not the copier.
The first item of shopping was a 250 gram bar of detergent cake. I have to wash my own undies from now on! No Laundromats! Ah, the tragedy! Never thought of that before I moved back! Guess I’ll have to invest in a washing machine sooner than I thought…
One thing that you have to realize here, there is a person for everything that you need to do. And it’s all door-to-door service too!
At home: Need your clothes washed? Ask the dhobi, he’ll pick it up and drop it off 2 days later. Need your house cleaned? Your dishes washed? Ask the maid-servant – a vacuum-cum-mop-cum-dishwasher Super Lady, she’ll drop by thrice a week and do it, all for a nominal fee of course.
At work: Need stationery? Don’t look in the cabinet; ask Madam Surekha instead, she’s got it all. Need a photocopy? Ask Mr. Gopal, he’ll do it, not the copier.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Intro - The Landing
Most articles you read are written about desi FOBs in the USA. All of you might have laughed at, and secretly related to, incidents like ordering the first sandwich from Subway, mistaking the pepperoni on a pizza for a slice of tomato, listening patiently to a telemarketer on the phone for half an hour - only to subscribe to "Home Improvement and Gardening Techniques" for two years.
Here’s an interesting twist to the saga. How about writing as a non-desi in Apna Desh? Most things we take for granted in India are easily forgotten once you step into the Americas. Here’s my perspective of what a non-desi will find a novelty when he steps into the wonderland that is India.
The first thing I noticed when I got off the plane is that airport services have come a long way since the past 5-6 years. I don’t know what people keep complaining about regarding inordinate delays in customs and immigration. I was out of Chennai Airport within 15-20 minutes of getting off an international flight, inspite of having a laptop, 2 cameras and 3 swords in my possession. In fact, it took me 3 hours to get out of Bangkok Airport because of visa processing delays. Boy, am I glad to be back home again!
Here’s an interesting twist to the saga. How about writing as a non-desi in Apna Desh? Most things we take for granted in India are easily forgotten once you step into the Americas. Here’s my perspective of what a non-desi will find a novelty when he steps into the wonderland that is India.
The first thing I noticed when I got off the plane is that airport services have come a long way since the past 5-6 years. I don’t know what people keep complaining about regarding inordinate delays in customs and immigration. I was out of Chennai Airport within 15-20 minutes of getting off an international flight, inspite of having a laptop, 2 cameras and 3 swords in my possession. In fact, it took me 3 hours to get out of Bangkok Airport because of visa processing delays. Boy, am I glad to be back home again!
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