"You are Very White"

I am? No!

That comment was made to me in Kolkata by a drunk, middle aged Indian businessman who was gorging on the hotel buffet with his fat friend.

Giggling like little school girls, they were downing beer after beer and chain smoking. The skinnier (relative term here) one started to chat with me, asked me what I thought of India, etc. Then he made the "you're very white" comment! I just looked at him and said that my people had come from a place where people were, well, very WHITE and that I didn't tan very well. I always considered myself more of a pinkish color, but whatever. I was so tempted to say something along the lines of "You are very fat" or "You smell like you ate a nicotine bush," but I really didn't take his comment as offensive.

Just stupid.

Mother Teresa

Some people are selfless. Some are selfish. Most of us probably fall somewhere along the line between the two.

While I was in Kolkata, I had the chance to visit the Missionaries of Charity facility. It is where Mother Teresa lived, served and offered love to people who had nothing. Nothing. Not "I don't have an iPod/color tv/filet mignon." Nothing. Maybe a set of clothing. Maybe not. Maybe teeth. Maybe not. Maybe the ability to speak. Maybe not. Maybe the ability to read. Most likely not. You get my point.

To see poverty in the way that it's thrown in front of you here can be a shock. I sat in front of her tomb and read the inscription "Love one another as I have loved you" and thought, wow, here lies the remains of someone who will likely become a saint, who lived in a room smaller than most of our closets.

Not to be overly preachy, but I would hope that more people would be thankful for what they have, and not upset over what they don't have. If you need a lesson in this, come visit the sisters who run this place.

One last thing. As I've visited temples around India, I've usually been confronted with the demand to pay for everything. Check your shoes? Money. Enter the temple? Money. I was ready to start handing out notes as soon as I walked in the door here. But you know what? Not one single request. Not a sign, not a hand thrust in my face, nada. It was refreshing. Of course I made a donation as I left, and I'm sure they end up collecting far more from people because they don't ask.

Oh! Calcutta!

Since I've never seen the movie or Broadway show "Oh! Calcutta!" I'd always assumed it was in some how connected with the city and/or India. Turns out I was wrong.

Also finally learned what the "Black Hole of Calcutta" was. You'll have to go look it up, as it's way too long to describe here. Only thing you need to know: it's not here anymore.

I spent this past weekend in this former British colonial capitol. When I told people where I was going, they all, I mean all, looked at me like I was some kind of a freak. “Kalkota? Do you know anyone there?” or “Kolkata? It is the dirtiest city in India.” I insisted that my goal was to see as much of India as I could, and that Kolkata was on the list.

I arrived a little late – hey, it’s India – and headed to my hotel. The airport is located in Dum Dum. Great name huh? Dates back to the fact the British invented the “dum dum” bullet here or something. I noticed the huge numbers of cows as soon as we left the driveway of the airport. I’ve seen cows all over India, but they were everywhere here. I later found out that the area around the airport, although developing quickly, is mostly comprised of agricultural villages.

We drove thru Salt Lake City on the way. Yes, they have a SLC here too. It is home to many software and tech companies, and there were lots of people on bikes. However, I didn’t see any Mormons and the only temples were Hindu. When I told my driver we too had a Salt Lake City, he seemed surprised.
I took a blitz tour with my driver of the sites of the city. Victoria Memorial, some bridges, the Ghats, lunch at a hotel, a very ill conceived walk thru the New Market where I was joined by my very own “coolie” who insisted that I need not buy anything, but I had to look. Only problem is if you make any eye contact with a shop owner, it’s nearly impossible to get away from their grip. So throwing manners aside, I simply ignored everyone, including the man who tried to use the age-old “I know you” line. I said “You do? What’s my name?” Much like my friend in Phuket who I threw off with my “I’m from India” line, this poor sap just looked at me and smirked. Phew, dodged another store full of crap I will never put in my house, but some of you may get as Christmas gifts!

After I escaped the market, my little helper, Afjal (Badge #64), insisted that I put his name and id number into my cell phone, in the event I come back to shop. I did just that, and now I’m putting Afjal's name out on the web for the entire world to see. So if any of you ever find yourself in Kolkata and in need of a dose of shopping, please look out for Afjal. And to steal a line from Dave Chappelle, “Afjal, your famous, biotch!”

One aspect of Kolkata that just punches you in the face is the poverty. I had one woman, holding a small baby, follow me through the entire market saying “I’m poor, no husband, baby food.” She wouldn’t take the “no, sorry” from me and kept following until she finally realized I wasn’t going to give her anything. It’s not that I didn’t feel bad, it’s just that as soon as you give anything to anyone here, there will be 50 more right behind them. I did give a donation at the Missionaries of Charity though, so stop muttering those anti-Republican, heartless bastard comments about me. I'm a big believer in charitable causes, I just know I can only do so much when confronted by such a big need.

The area around the New Market is the ground zero of the tourist trade. And it’s also one of the last cities in the world with human pulled rickshaws. There are about 18,000 of them employed around the city, most earning less than 50 INR a day. Most of the pullers I saw were barefoot, and walking around barefoot here is a dangerous proposition. I tried to get a good picture of one, but this is all you’ll get.

Last comment – for some reason, as we drove down Sudder Street, some insane man decided I’d offended him. I hadn’t done anything, was merely looking out the window of my car. He had long, scraggly hair, and I swear I saw him in Berkeley about 15 years ago. He just started screaming “F you! F you!” and staring insanely at me. I did what came instinctively to me – I smiled and flipped him off.

A few more pictures for you. Random heard of goats walking around the market area. And a picture of some men bathing at the Hooghly Ghats.

Chilly Powder And Other Stuff To Leave At Home

I took another side trip this weekend up to Kolkata. I got to the airport a little too early and had loads of time to read the paper and people watch. I noticed a very large digital scrolling sign above the Indian Airlines x-ray machine that was listing the things allowed/not allowed on planes. It was pretty funny. I would have taken a picture, but it's illegal to take photos inside of some Indian airports. I didn't want to test the system to see if Hyderabad was one of them.

I wrote this down exactly as it appeared:

Welcomes. Indian airlines limited x-ray scanning of registered baggage.
Banned items – Guns/revolvers/pistols of any types and replicas items these ammunition/bullets of any kinds, knives of any size or type except kripan with 6 inch blade and 3 inch handle, brass knuckles/explosives of any type/disabling chemicals or gases/large heavy tools (wrenches/pliers/crow bar/axes/ice pick/power drill/saws/fire extinguishers/box cutters/screw drivers/darts/bows and arrows/mace/martial arts devices/pool cues/hockey sticks, baseball bats, golf clubs, cricket bats, ski poles, gas lighters, cork screws, razor blades, straight razors, scissors exceeding 5 inch lengths, chilly powder, household cutlery, knitting needles.

Permitted items – passengers are permitted to carry cash. Jewelry/Gold. Valuable documents etc in their handbaggage only. Permitted items in the handbag: walking sticks, umbrellas (folding type). Feeding bottles. Shaving kits excluding razor blades and straight razors. Medicine required during flight like asthma inhaler etc. Laptop. Cell phones one piece of cabin baggage.

Oh, I better go retrieve the bag I just checked! I left 2 gold bars, my passport and 50,000 rupees in it!

I was surprised to see the ban on baseball bats, as no one I’ve met here knows anything about the sport. And I find it very amusing that a religious dagger (kripan) is ok to bring aboard, as are 4 inch scissors. Getting stabbed by 4 inch blades feels so much less deadly than those 5 inch bastards.

And they made me check my contact lense solution! Watch out, I might spray you with some saline if you piss me off!

Good to see common sense is dead over here too.

Public Peeing

One of the first things you'll notice around India, is that some men will simply take a piss wherever they are. Driving down the road on my first day here, I looked out the window and saw a guy pissing on a wall. Painted on the wall was a painted sign that said "No Urinanting" in English and Telagu. He apparently only read French.

I was beginning to think no one cared, until I picked up today's paper. On page 5 was a story detailing how the Municipal Corporation of Hyderabad had conducted a series of inspections and slapped 150 people with fines for urinating in public. The best (worst?) part is they simply went to areas with public restrooms and nabbed people who were too lazy to walk inside. The fines were Rs 50 (a little over a dollar) or Rs 15 for those unable to pay the full amount. The funniest part of the article has got to be the accompanying picture showing an inspector standing behind a man pissing on a wall and pointing at him. I'm sure the man was startled and turned around and pissed on the inspectors leg.

The Elections: An Indian Perspective

The way the Indian press has covered the mid-term elections in the US, you'd think Bush was President of India. The headline shown here is just one of many that blanketed the various newspapers across India following our elections.

The average Indian businessman/student is much more aware of our poltics than many of our own countrymen. They may not understand it well, but they're paying attention. And for some reason they all think the Democrats are more friendly towards India Inc. than the Republicans. I don't think they understand the protectionist wing of the Democratic Party.

Do any of you remember seeing much press on the last Indian elections? I doubt it. Our newspapers seem to only pay scant attention to world politics - even to an emerging ally and stable democracy. That's why I subscribe to the Economist. At least they give in depth coverage to real news. And if you aren't paying attention, the Prime Minister of India Dr. Manmohan Singh.

And since you all know my political leanings, I do want to point out something that seems to be missing from the international coverage: The Dem's didn't blowout anyone. Yes, the House is theirs and they did surprise me and take the Senate. Was it because they offered a vision for anything? No. Was it because many of us were fed up with Iraq and the general sleaze of Washington? Yes. Are there many of my kind of Republicans left? Sadly, no.

And I won't bore you with the sixth year averages for a sitting president, but even with his low approval ratings, Bush still, some how, managed to suffer a little less than his predecessors.

And aren't you glad we got about a 5 minute break before the press started talking about whether the D's could keep their majority in 2008? Or who would prevail in the presidential bloodbath?

Good god, go on a freaking vacation Wolf Blitzer!

Mom Always Said Don't Play Ball in the House..

Or to light fireworks off indoors!

So I was at an early Thanksgiving dinner hosted by someone from my firm. Nice group of people, lovely house, lots of good food and plenty of libations.

Everything was great. Until the not-so-smart guy showed up. He's actually very smart, but apparently not in possession of much common sense. He was showing off what appeared to be large firecrackers, and proclaiming he was going to light them off during the party. I said something like "Be careful, you can't trust the quality control of an Indian fireworks factory." He just laughed and said "Sure, sure. I know."

So about five minutes later, as I was having a nice conversation with a fellow Angeleno about the merits of Tommy's chili cheeseburgers, the room exploded in a bright light and very LOUD bang. Greg Brady had lit a firecracker with the intent to throw it out the open door. Unfortunately for all of us, the fuse burned really fast and it exploded in his hand. It also managed to burn three other people and cause some hearing loss, at least temporarily, in a few of us.

The reaction was swift and angry. Two guys, who didn't know the culprit, ripped into him. One was yelling about suing him (and I was trying to convince Mr. Litigation to relax) and getting him fired. The other called him all sorts of names and and was acting like a silly school girl. The whole scene was absurd.

After my hearing returned and I'd check on the burn victims, we all returned to good conversation and some Indian margaritas. Mr. Firecracker was hiding out in the corner and belatedly apologizing to everyone.

Moral of the story? Don't invite morons to your party - either the one who blows up stuff, or the ones who react like hysterical schoolgirls.

And did I mention the prior Friday was Safety Day at our office here?

Do You Speak Any Indian?

During my last trip here, I was watching some television show called "The Great Indian Wedding" (yes, I was watching it because a) it was in English and b) I was tired of watching the same loop of news on CNN International) when the ignorance of my fellow Americans jumped out at me. The show focuses on some obscenely rich Indian and their wedding festivities. This particular episode featured a wealthy Sikh who lived in Delhi and New York, and was supposedly an actor. He invited all of his 1,000 friends to the 7 day party. One friend was an older American socialite who proclaimed at the end of the ceremony: "It was beautiful, I just wish I spoke Indian so I could have understood what they were saying." Duh!

The second moment occurred back in DC, when I was asked the "Do you speak Indian?" question at a bar. The person asking assumed everyone spoke Indian and wasn't aware that there is no such language. Double duh!!

So the purpose of this lesson is to educate the six of you reading it about the complexities of language here in India.

First off, not everyone speaks Hindi or English. As a matter of fact, only a minority of Indians speak Hindi. 337 million to be specific, out of a population of about 1.1 billion. Did you know more Indians speak English than Hindi? 350 million can speak English (keep in mind bilingual/multilingual skills are far better here than in the US). The way I figure, the largest English speaking country isn't the US - it's India.

There are many "official" languages here. Many of the boundaries of Indian states were actually layed out because of language. The list is long: Hindi (337 million), Telugu (80 million), Tamil (74 million), Bengali (70 million), Marathi (60 million), Urdu (43 million), Gujarati (41 million), Kannada (44 million), Malayalam (30 million), Oriya (28 million), Maithili (25 million), Punjabi (23 million), Bhojpuri (23 million), Assamese (13 million), Gondi (2.1 Million), Sindhi (2.1 Million), Konkani (1.7 Million), Meitei (1.2 Million), Nepali (1 Million), Kashmiri (0.5 million), and Sanskrit (<0.1 million). I didn't even know anyone spoke Sanskirt anymore.

Other significant languages found here include: Angika (0.7 million), Kokborok (1.3 million), Wagdi, Halbi, Marwari (12 million), Chhattisgarhi (11 million), Magahi (11 million), Awadhi (0.5 million), Tulu (2 million), Kodava, Dogri, Persian, French, Portuguese, Bodo, Santhali, Sikkimese, Dzongkha, and Dakkhini aka Deccani (11 million).

Is your head spinning? Mine is.

Another Name Bites the Dust

Greetings. I'm back in India after a brief stay back in the States. Can't you just feel my excitement?

The trip over was uneventful, with the exception of the clutz sitting across from me on the Frankfurt to Hyderabad flight. Not once, but twice, he managed to trip over the guy sitting across from him and send glasses and papers all over the floor. He either was wearing clown shoes or was drunk. Either way he woke me up both times. Moron.

Ok, so some of you may be familiar with the city name changes that have taken place here in India over the last ten years. In an effort to shed the last remnants of colonialism (and drum up political support for local politicos looking for a wedge issue), Bombay became Mumbai, Calcutta became Kolkuta, and Madras became Chennai (side note, has anyone seen my Chennai shorts?).
The name changers struck again yesterday. This time their target was Bangalore. Yes, perhaps you've heard of it? It's the center of the IT job boom that has pulled the Indian economy roaring into the 21st century. So it's a billion dollar brand name. The new name? Bengalooru! Loosely translated, it means "City of cooked beans" in the local Kannada language. Pretty catchy, huh?

My guess is the name will only be used in official circles and by localists intent on preserving whatever it is they're preserving. The rest of us will still call it Bangalore or maybe I'll just call it Beanbai.