Saturday, August 07, 2004
Back to India...
At last the monsoon is there, the low level of rain was almost alarming before I left for some days in Europe, now it is too much.
95% of humidity and 28deg C in Bombay. 2/3 of Bengladesh under water and big parts of indian states like Gujarat in serious trouble...
During the flight (placed in front of emergency exit so with not-movable seat) I met Abhay from Bombay, nothing difficult he was my neighbour. He was on his way back from Austin, Texas, after one year of study there, for one month of holiday in his home town. He knew surprisingly a lot about Europe, cinema, politics, indian touristic places (even about Saint-Gobain - not as touristic place - that he used to rate for a previous company). Discussions made the journey much more pleasant & will go on. His challenge is now to find (for me) a cello-maker in Bombay...
Arriving in the office this afternoon, I frightened the secretary as I told her that I spent some holidays in Poland. The country became extremely unsafe for Indians since a recent kidnapping of a 37-y.o. indian businessman (probably as dangereous as Irak if not more...). She was horrifyed as she mentionned the cut-off fingers reappearing one-by-one in bottles in every corner of Warsaw to urge the family for money. I hope that foreign residents in India are not concerned...
As I told to some of you I had the pleasure to meet in the last days, India requires a lot of energy and is quite exciting-tiring. If you add the climatic conditions with the various pollutions (noises, dirt, smokes,...), the attention you have to pay to prevent potential dangers (no, I am not paranoid android...) and events & pictures you gather from your close environment that are as many challenges when you try to build-up a intelligible world around you (not an absolute need, but comfortable from time to time). I miss sometimes pedestrian areas like market places. Here there are no streets forbidden to 2, 3 and 4 wheelers. As long as they are not too wide, vehicles just go. Finally "your" appropriated space is very much reduced (even more at the beginning), almost only your home. Sometimes in the city I feel like in a golden prison, fortunatly not impossible to escape...soon time to go to country-side, I heared there are a lot of military forts (17th cent.) & hill stations all around...to come.
How to illustrate how easy the contacts with all kinds of people are here : one day in a Barista coffee shop (best indian expresso so far), I read in the magasin "Outlook" some ranking of good restaurants and pubs in the 10 biggest cities of India. Absolutly to have at home in a discovery period! I was very pleased to see that Pune belonged that top 10 (even at the end of the list...). Some unknown names were mentionned there so I had to get that magasin. I jumped in a rickshaw, asked for a shop and landed on the square in front of the railway station. No "Outlook" there. They had only the new edition even if dated with the following day. I didn't gave up and went to the next shop. Nothing...but a nice shopkeeper who proposed me to come on the next day, same time/same place. One day later I came back, full of confidence. As I saw him I understood that he had forgoten. He looked really confused and asked me to wait 10 more minutes (short before 9p.m., he was just about to close his shop).
-during this time I could study the entire list of small packages available in thousands of tiny shops you can get for 1Rs (2 eurocents) : supari (small pieces of wood with chemical impregnation - tastes like some toilet-products smell - "injurious for health", bad for teeth, etc, but extremly popular), coconut oil for your hair (shine + "parachute" effect), washing powder, shampoo, sweets, mouth-tobacco (you will see what I mean, what's the right word for it?) and the list is not complete. Those 1Rs products are absolutly necessary in a country where the population earn today what will make them not starvate tomorrow-
10 minutes later the guy closed his shop, and invited me to follow him. He went to his scooter in a court behind and we rode to his home. Magic drive, I could experiment the nice feeling of (moderate) speed without helmet through the indian night...surrounded by heavy traffic. (I want my Enfield*!...). We stopped in a narrow street and entered in a small 2 room flat on ground floor. I was introduced to the son & the wife, sat on the sofa and the discussion started about forecast for european football championship, mathematics & son's computer-engineering study. I had unfortunatly to refuse politely the non-filtered water that was kindly offered. After a while the son brought from another room the magazine I was looking for (the family had an abonnement), offered to pay for it but the father refused, saying that once read it had no more value. I could have stayed much longer but left after 30 minutes of intense exchange, not without having given my e-mail to the son, in case he would require some help. Wait & see...
On of my favorite place to have diner here is located 200m from my home & called "Teri Rajput" (probably the name of the owner). It looks like (and it is) a very popular & cheap place, but with a large range of customers, some coming to get some sauce in a small bag for a few rupees, others sitting and spending up to 50Rs for a complete diner. It is open to the street (kind of "street canteen"), with some tables & a lot of agitation. An old crazy guy sometimes is "controlling" the traffic in front of the house, trying in vain to prevent the bikes & cars to park directly in front of the open-air canteen (no idea whether he is appointed by "Teri Rajput" to do that, I guess not...) In fact the food preparation takes place along the street, in the middle of the customers tables. In the very middle, 4 containers with various sauces, one with rice. On the right side the pancake workshop (I am not yet comfortable with the various names used for it : paneer, chapati, roti, paapat, etc), 4 men working with a rare intensity (yesterday I discovered the simplest way to make potato-puree : take a boiled potato in your hand and squeeze it!). They make cheese pancake, potato pancake, califlor (nie pamietam, is that "choux-fleur" in english or in polish?) pancake...When you have one, you tear it (only with your right hand of course!) put it in the sauce cup and enjoy it! The service & cleaning of the tables is done by children runing in all directions. One of them looks to be over 18 : Shina gets the orders and is a key person in the business. He has an incredible memory (as I came back after some weeks on august 8th, he told me : "you sayed august 5th", what is really the rough date I told him before leaving), says everytime with a big smile "why you didn't come yesterday?" (it's true I was coming almost every day at the beginning so he took the habit...) when I arrive, and "you will come tomorrow?" when I leave (I probably give relatively high tips, but I believe that it doesn't explain everything...). At his level, this guy is very strong. When I come, I just sit, most of the time he brings mechanicaly the same drink like last time and proposes a main course. For the dessert (I acknowledge there are delicious bengali sweets, made with milk, sugar, almonds, pistache, sometimes covered by an eatable silver sheet / the fresh mango cake is simply excellent) he tries to push as much as possible in my plate. I often have to refuse some in spite of an unavoidable gourmandise. And it works, my bill is growing & a I always comeback, like fascinated by the way this house is working...
Oh, I forgot : the quiet one behind the cash-machine is... a Sikh. It seems to be a tradition from top (Manmohan Singh, premier ministre, ex-finance minister) to bottom.
One more use here. Burping is accepted at any time (not only after eating like in arabic countries). So never be surprised! I was twice, now no more (doesn't mean I took the habit) : once in a plane, sitting beside a respectable 55 y.o. man wearing a traditional & elegant kurta. Hudge & deep burp... He didn't even move the head. Second time during a meeting with the plant manager & his team (about 10 people). As someone else was giving an explaination, the boss burped. Nothing happened then. Life went on...
India is really great!
*see www.royalenfield.com
95% of humidity and 28deg C in Bombay. 2/3 of Bengladesh under water and big parts of indian states like Gujarat in serious trouble...
During the flight (placed in front of emergency exit so with not-movable seat) I met Abhay from Bombay, nothing difficult he was my neighbour. He was on his way back from Austin, Texas, after one year of study there, for one month of holiday in his home town. He knew surprisingly a lot about Europe, cinema, politics, indian touristic places (even about Saint-Gobain - not as touristic place - that he used to rate for a previous company). Discussions made the journey much more pleasant & will go on. His challenge is now to find (for me) a cello-maker in Bombay...
Arriving in the office this afternoon, I frightened the secretary as I told her that I spent some holidays in Poland. The country became extremely unsafe for Indians since a recent kidnapping of a 37-y.o. indian businessman (probably as dangereous as Irak if not more...). She was horrifyed as she mentionned the cut-off fingers reappearing one-by-one in bottles in every corner of Warsaw to urge the family for money. I hope that foreign residents in India are not concerned...
As I told to some of you I had the pleasure to meet in the last days, India requires a lot of energy and is quite exciting-tiring. If you add the climatic conditions with the various pollutions (noises, dirt, smokes,...), the attention you have to pay to prevent potential dangers (no, I am not paranoid android...) and events & pictures you gather from your close environment that are as many challenges when you try to build-up a intelligible world around you (not an absolute need, but comfortable from time to time). I miss sometimes pedestrian areas like market places. Here there are no streets forbidden to 2, 3 and 4 wheelers. As long as they are not too wide, vehicles just go. Finally "your" appropriated space is very much reduced (even more at the beginning), almost only your home. Sometimes in the city I feel like in a golden prison, fortunatly not impossible to escape...soon time to go to country-side, I heared there are a lot of military forts (17th cent.) & hill stations all around...to come.
How to illustrate how easy the contacts with all kinds of people are here : one day in a Barista coffee shop (best indian expresso so far), I read in the magasin "Outlook" some ranking of good restaurants and pubs in the 10 biggest cities of India. Absolutly to have at home in a discovery period! I was very pleased to see that Pune belonged that top 10 (even at the end of the list...). Some unknown names were mentionned there so I had to get that magasin. I jumped in a rickshaw, asked for a shop and landed on the square in front of the railway station. No "Outlook" there. They had only the new edition even if dated with the following day. I didn't gave up and went to the next shop. Nothing...but a nice shopkeeper who proposed me to come on the next day, same time/same place. One day later I came back, full of confidence. As I saw him I understood that he had forgoten. He looked really confused and asked me to wait 10 more minutes (short before 9p.m., he was just about to close his shop).
-during this time I could study the entire list of small packages available in thousands of tiny shops you can get for 1Rs (2 eurocents) : supari (small pieces of wood with chemical impregnation - tastes like some toilet-products smell - "injurious for health", bad for teeth, etc, but extremly popular), coconut oil for your hair (shine + "parachute" effect), washing powder, shampoo, sweets, mouth-tobacco (you will see what I mean, what's the right word for it?) and the list is not complete. Those 1Rs products are absolutly necessary in a country where the population earn today what will make them not starvate tomorrow-
10 minutes later the guy closed his shop, and invited me to follow him. He went to his scooter in a court behind and we rode to his home. Magic drive, I could experiment the nice feeling of (moderate) speed without helmet through the indian night...surrounded by heavy traffic. (I want my Enfield*!...). We stopped in a narrow street and entered in a small 2 room flat on ground floor. I was introduced to the son & the wife, sat on the sofa and the discussion started about forecast for european football championship, mathematics & son's computer-engineering study. I had unfortunatly to refuse politely the non-filtered water that was kindly offered. After a while the son brought from another room the magazine I was looking for (the family had an abonnement), offered to pay for it but the father refused, saying that once read it had no more value. I could have stayed much longer but left after 30 minutes of intense exchange, not without having given my e-mail to the son, in case he would require some help. Wait & see...
On of my favorite place to have diner here is located 200m from my home & called "Teri Rajput" (probably the name of the owner). It looks like (and it is) a very popular & cheap place, but with a large range of customers, some coming to get some sauce in a small bag for a few rupees, others sitting and spending up to 50Rs for a complete diner. It is open to the street (kind of "street canteen"), with some tables & a lot of agitation. An old crazy guy sometimes is "controlling" the traffic in front of the house, trying in vain to prevent the bikes & cars to park directly in front of the open-air canteen (no idea whether he is appointed by "Teri Rajput" to do that, I guess not...) In fact the food preparation takes place along the street, in the middle of the customers tables. In the very middle, 4 containers with various sauces, one with rice. On the right side the pancake workshop (I am not yet comfortable with the various names used for it : paneer, chapati, roti, paapat, etc), 4 men working with a rare intensity (yesterday I discovered the simplest way to make potato-puree : take a boiled potato in your hand and squeeze it!). They make cheese pancake, potato pancake, califlor (nie pamietam, is that "choux-fleur" in english or in polish?) pancake...When you have one, you tear it (only with your right hand of course!) put it in the sauce cup and enjoy it! The service & cleaning of the tables is done by children runing in all directions. One of them looks to be over 18 : Shina gets the orders and is a key person in the business. He has an incredible memory (as I came back after some weeks on august 8th, he told me : "you sayed august 5th", what is really the rough date I told him before leaving), says everytime with a big smile "why you didn't come yesterday?" (it's true I was coming almost every day at the beginning so he took the habit...) when I arrive, and "you will come tomorrow?" when I leave (I probably give relatively high tips, but I believe that it doesn't explain everything...). At his level, this guy is very strong. When I come, I just sit, most of the time he brings mechanicaly the same drink like last time and proposes a main course. For the dessert (I acknowledge there are delicious bengali sweets, made with milk, sugar, almonds, pistache, sometimes covered by an eatable silver sheet / the fresh mango cake is simply excellent) he tries to push as much as possible in my plate. I often have to refuse some in spite of an unavoidable gourmandise. And it works, my bill is growing & a I always comeback, like fascinated by the way this house is working...
Oh, I forgot : the quiet one behind the cash-machine is... a Sikh. It seems to be a tradition from top (Manmohan Singh, premier ministre, ex-finance minister) to bottom.
One more use here. Burping is accepted at any time (not only after eating like in arabic countries). So never be surprised! I was twice, now no more (doesn't mean I took the habit) : once in a plane, sitting beside a respectable 55 y.o. man wearing a traditional & elegant kurta. Hudge & deep burp... He didn't even move the head. Second time during a meeting with the plant manager & his team (about 10 people). As someone else was giving an explaination, the boss burped. Nothing happened then. Life went on...
India is really great!
*see www.royalenfield.com
