Drinking the Indian Way - Black Dog and Soda

Had written this Thursday, February 17, 2011 - somehow it never got published. Wonder if sampling for the blog had anything to do with it ;)

Coaster has a famous Indian movie dialog -
"Jab main black dog peeta hoon,
mere seenay me kaley kuttey bhaunkney lagte hain"
Translated -"When I drink Black Dog, Black Dogs
start to bark in my chest"

Peeyush always drank his scotch on the rocks so I was surprised when at a party he asked for coke to be mixed with it. “Black Dog” he said, referring to the scotch, “You can’t drink it without coke”. Yes, it is that bad. Most Indians here drink hard liquor (wine attributes to less than 3% of the total alcohol sales) and cheaper scotches mixed with soda seems to be the way to down it.

Maybe due to excessive hard alcohol drinking, India has been a little judgmental about people that drink. “He does not drink” is still considered a plus on your marriage biodata (more on that someday). I was reading a blog about alcohol sales in the US by a friend of mine and got thinking of how India has progressed on the drinking front. I see more people (women and girls especially) drink at bars and can firmly attest to the fact that I have seen as many girls throw up drunk here in my last six months as I had seen in the US in the last six years. The concept of drinking has made it to the youngsters, the concept of moderation and drinking to enjoy a drink and not to get drunk is still on its way.

Couple of things that have stood out negatively here are excessive drinking, hypocrisy and bringing down all scotch to the Black dog level (meaning diluting it). On the positive front social drinking is popular and there is a vast vareity at most bars to enjoy. Wine clubs are also making a foothold so the future looks more drinkable.

Few Indian drinking nuances-
1. Most people will not drink in front of their parents. It is not just about the lecture you might get, unless they drink and offer you a drink it is considered a sign of disrespect.

• My dad would hide his glass of scotch under the table if he heard my grandma come.
• My cousins have walked around with an opaque glass wrapped by a napkin at a party trying to conceal the golden liquid inside.

2. Alcohol shops are 'shady' places often with a curtain to protect the identity of the people in there. Else they have iron bars all over the facade. I have never bought a bottle of alcohol from a regular alcohol store in India. I think I’d be rather uncomfortable walking into one of these joints. I saw the sign of one at a mall but it was tucked away in some forsaken corner.

3. Drinking amongst the lower income class is still considered taboo and it often done in extreme - hard alcohol with the purpose of getting drunk. Drinking for pleasure is not the norm.

4. In general drinking amongst the younger and higher income class is not a big taboo (except for point 1 - away from the family) and people dole out US prices for drinks at a bar without much thought. Top drinks are - scotch (with soda) or beer for the guys, vodka for the ladies - though the choices are many and I have sat with indulgers of sake, brandy, gin and tonic etc.

5. Wine is … hmm… bad. India is getting into the wine scene and I have had some decent wine at not so decent prices here. There is some 300% tax on wine and due to low inventory movement the wine list is usually limited. Don't make the mistake of ordering by the glass, the bottle is the way to go.

6. When visiting India be nice and bring over a bottle of scotch (not black dog) for a friend. Alcohol is taxed very high here and a bottle of Blue label ($140 at duty free can go for around $400 in stores here). Ensure they try it soda free and you will be doing double goodness – teaching someone to drink for pleasure.

On drinking for pleasure - recently, a friend was disgusted when she saw good some really scotch being mixed with Sprite. She walked off.  I would have done that too - with the bottle in my hand. Bottle of sprite that is (in case my inlaws are reading this)

Everyone has a birthday

Everyone has a birthday but not everyone celebrates one. Growing up in India I did not know when my Indian grandmother’s birthday was. I had never heard of any of the household help have or celebrate a birthday. Many of the poorer kids I played with were clueless about this date or celebration concept – it just did not fit into the family budget, it had not for generations and never became the tradition the rest of us are so used to.

Today I was at one of my favorite haunts – the panipuri guy. I was there later than usual – around seven pm. As I walked up a little kid pushed past me and handed his money to the panipuri guy. He had four rupees in what seemed like ten coins. Here a plate of panipuri has six pieces and goes for ten rupees. So, four rupees would buy you around two and a half pieces, three on a generous day. I saw the panipuri guy give him four. The kid was happy and I was surprised – hawkers are not always generous.

Cakebox perched on top of the portable
gas burner.

My turn came and as I stood near him I noticed a group of men around. They seemed impatient. One held a portable stove and another was on the phone arranging for ‘basmati, not any other kind, rice’. There were two peeling potatoes and chopping onions – helping my panipuri guy. My curiosity – which is easy to spike anyways – had peaked. Then I saw the man with a box. It was a cake-box. They were trying to get the panipuri guy to hurry up and close shop so they could go and party. There would be cake and biryani. A group of twenty-something daily wage earners. Far away from their families from a state a thousand miles from here. They had a cake and a friend with a birthday.

I got an extra panipuri too. He did not say why and I did not wish him. But I raised it as a silent toast to him as I ate it. I know there are way more important things in life but having friends and a birthday you celebrate is something worth squeezing in.

Stepping through a complete health checkup at Apollo Delhi

Rs 4400 for a complete health checkup – that is the price of an executive package at the Apollo hospital in Delhi. It looked too good to be true for someone like me that had paid $125 (~Rs 6000) just for my grandma to consult with a physician in the US recently. The checkup included an ECG and TMT for the heart, and ultrasound of the abdomen, blood test galore, an x-ray, doctor consultation and wellness counseling. My mother was visiting the hospital for her one year checkup. A brain aneurysm last Feb had put a lot of fears into us and besides the scheduled angiogram we though a full body checkup would be good. So, we signed up for the executive package.

Executive Health Checkup Includes
all this minus echocardiography and SGOT
(a liver function test)

Step 1 – Call up for an appointment.

It was late in the evening, It had been a long day at the hospital I called to make an appointment. The guy on the line was a smartass – to put it politely. I went along with his first few retorts then he asked me for my mom’s patient id. “AF123…” I read out. “What kind of a number is that?” was a super-fast retort. “What do you mean I asked?” “It sounds like an old weird number, what kind of a number is it?” I had had enough. He got an earful about him working for the hospital that hands out such numbers and going and having a talk with his employers about weird old numbers they hand out. A minute later I had an appointment for the next morning.

Step 2 – Show up for the appointment

You pay when you show up. That means – stand in line at the information counter to be told to go to counter 23, to be told to go to counter 21 for billing, return to counter 23 for invoice then go to counter 25 and listen to three people argue and grumble about their bill before paying.

Step 3 – Nurses Evaluation

Smooth and easy, they take your weight and medical history and give you hope for the rest of the process.

Step 4 Realizing you are number 8 and number 18

After the nurse is done with you she write room numbers against each test you are due for and leads you to the first one – blood collection room. Here you find out you are number 8 in line and should sit till you are called. You sit and count seventeen people go into the room before you lose your patience. As you enter the room to ask it is magically your turn. It seems you were number eighteen.

Step 5 Grit and Repeat

At this point you realize a lot of people bought the executive package and the smartass appointment guy told everyone to show up at 10am. Many of the package buyers are foreigners with translator so an extra pinch of chaos is added. Most patients are hungry – empty stomact for some tests – and edgy. You learn to navigate the line and in some case even cut the line. You speak in Hindi in a demanding, assertive yet polite tone.  You do this for six tests before it is 1pm and time for lunch.

Step 6 Why oh Why?

The next test requires that the patient have eaten two hours prior so there is a two hour break after lunch. There are cafeterias and the package includes a ‘breakfast/lunch’ coupon. We kill time over cups and tea and return back to the second floor. At the first look I was scared they were done for the day. It was empty. The crowd from 10am had vanished. The rest of the tests were a breeze. Almost no waiting lines with relaxed unhurried attendants. You wonder why they called you at 10am. I suspect this being India they called people from 8am on and everyone showed up at 10am but after years of this they should know this by now. Why did they call us at 10am? Why oh why?

Step 7 – Appointment for the next day

You are to come back the next day to get your results and consult with a doctor. This time the appointment is done in person. This time you are smarter. You ask the nurses what a good time of the day is. You take a 4pm appointment.

Step 8 – Four pm means five thirty pm

We were fifteen minutes late getting to the appointment. I was hoping we would not get bumped off the list. Well the doctor was an hour and a half late so it all evened out I guess.

On the positive front all the test results were ready and he spent a great deal of time going over the results. On the very positive personal front all tests results were good and that meant my mom was healthy – this also meant not coming back to the hospital.

Step 9 – Wrapping up

Like the initial nurse station experience this was great. All notes were typed up in timely manner and given in a nice carry bag by chirpy assistants. You almost felt like the chaos and waiting never happened.

Long story short-

It is a great package for the price you pay – the tests are great and doctors good. Just be ready for an unready staff and chaos that you have to personally navigate through. Or, be smart and ask for an afternoon appointment or show up a couple of hours late.

Justifying India with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs

I met an interesting woman today. We discussed expats that hate India and those that love it here. Then she mentioned that she had a hearing aid on and has volunteered in schools for the hearing impaired. With my limited knowledge of such schools I said it is great she did that and it is great such schools were become accessible in India. She had lots of good things to say but then she mentioned something that is unthinkable for most of us parents – “They keep the hearing aids at school” she said. “The children are not allowed to take them home. “

“But, that means they can’t hear once they go home?”

“Yes” she said. “But what can the schools do? Many parents sell the hearing aids.”

It is hard to believe that you would sell off your childs ability to hear.

It got me thinking about all the other things that I have found hard to believe there. I won’t list them here but they are far worse than selling your child’s hearing aid.

It also got me thinking of all the things I can’t believe people don’t try to change - the trash thrown around, respect for public and other’s property, respect for other humans and animals.

So, I read a bit and thought a bit and they only way I can try to understand it is by looking at Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs and expanding the orange part to fill most of the triangle. Most of the country is struggling to ensure they have enough food and a piece of land to call home. Those that rise above it want to leave something better for their immediate family. Respect, landscaping, wanting to do good onto others is something only a few can afford.

Once again I cannot justify selling a child’s hearing aid or sending your eight year old to be a domestic help in someones house but then I have not had to feed, clothe and manage my family for less than $2 a day.

Not being the change I want to see.

I have a panipuri guy. Amongst the many panipuri stalls that I pass on a regular basis he has become our favorite. He asks and customizes the spice level for us. He hands Ashvin as many empty panipuris as he can eat. He is our panipuriwala so when I saw a different guy at his spot I was sad. However much to our delight a few days ago we ran into him again.

He had started his own business he said so he had to find a new spot. Happy to find him we took the little bowls made of leaves and enjoyed the spicy water filled delights. When done I smiled/snickered as I noticed that his new spot was right next to a drainage ditch. The ditch had enough rubbish thrown into it that I didn’t give it a second thought and threw my ‘biodegradable’ bowl into it. Nice spot I thought, he has a trash can right behind him. And then I heard him. “ Ma'am here is the dustbin.”  He had a bucket next to him to collect the trash.

When I first came here I would have thought twice before throwing anything anywhere – regardless of the fact that others had done it. I am embarrassed to say a year and half here and I am being reprimanded by a pani-puri guy.

Go with the flow …. And you might run 5K, get two hamsters, share 25 ice cones and have a wonderful weekend

This weekend I had planned to

1.  Meet a friend for coffee
2. Volunteer at an orphanage
3. Go on a night hike
4. Clear up the huge pile of clothes that is cluttering up my room

Neighborhood kids all excited about the tiny
pets (pests??)

Out of these I only met the friend for coffee. The night hike and volunteering session were sadly cancelled - one had too many people and one too few.

But I ended up -

1. Getting two dwarf hamsters home. The naming is still in progress but Ashvin has chosen Cutie and Cutie-Cutie. Ankit (inspired by Amritansh Uncle) is looking for weightier names – Schrödinger is the latest.
2. Going for a 5K with neighbors at the Bangalore Midnight Marathon. The moon put on a beautiful eclipsys show for us. There were drummers and a band playing – moves like jagger. The kids ran faster than me and we gained all the calories back at an impromptu pizza party.
3. Visiting  a Lion’s Club fun fair with friends – enjoying the afternoon walk but really enjoying sharing shaved ice cones with twenty-five kids.
4. Finding my favorite pani-puri person who had gone missing for over two weeks now. Happy to know he has stopped working for a pani-puri chain and has started his own business. I did not know there were pani puri chains. I will interview this dude someday.

All this was unplanned and all of it wonderful. Going with the flow gets you a lot these days. It got me an awesome weekend. Now if only the clothes would clear themselves up.

Twenty-five ice cones and twenty-six smiles.

There is something about ice creams and me. A single cone will never suffice. I had a hundred when I was little (remember - One hundred Ice Creams ) and today I got twenty-five of them. I guess it is hard to see people sad with an ice cream in their hand.

Coming back to today – we had walked over to Lake View farms down the road to check out a fundraiser Lion's Club had going. It was a Christmas bazaar of sorts, with stalls of handicraft and food items for sale. Amongst attractions for the day, there was a dance, by the Siddapura school kids later in the afternoon. This was a school sponsored by the Lion’s club using funds raised by such bazaars.

I met the twenty kids that showed up for the performance when Ashvin wanted to play in the little playground where they were waiting. There was a single see-saw and a balance pole that comprised the playground and the twenty children seemed to be making full use of them. What surprised me was how welcoming they were. They helped Ashvin balance and put him on the see-saw. They shared and made him happy. They made me happy. Full of questions and smiles and dressed in their best clothes these were better sharers and happier children that I had encountered in a long time. A bit of a contrast to some I meet with their nannies in the playgrounds around here.

Long story short I bought them all shaved ice cones (due to the lack of other ice cream). It was funny when I asked the guy at the stall how much they were.

“Forty rupees” he said.

“I’ll take twenty” I said.

“No, ma’am, I can’t give for twenty, it is forty only”

“I am not asking you to give it to me for twenty, I want twenty of them” I replied laughing. “But do you offer a discount?” I added hopefully.

He didn’t give a discount and somehow I ended up buying twenty-five and not the anticipated twenty. The news of free ice cream travels fast I guess.

As I said earlier, I have never seen a sad face on anyone with an ice cream in hand and today I saw twenty (five) smiling ones.  Yes, I know it is better to give in a channeled manner but there is enough wrong in this world that sometimes making a few strangers happy is not too bad. And sorry, it was not twenty-five but twenty-six smiling faces - mine had the biggest smile.

Missing the North Indian winters

Bangalore Dec 2011. Waiting for corn to get roasted.

Bangalore does not get cold like Delhi or most of North India so I had not realized it was December and winter already. Then last night I walked back home near midnight and it was a little cold. Some darwans - security guys - had gotten a makeshift bonfire going. We had stood by a cart as corn was grilled on coals. The air was slight misty and the roads suspiciously empty.

I grew up in North India with very chilly winters. When we were little there was no central heating. Winter bought little coal firepots that were placed in the bedrooms. We would warm our feet over them. Washed clothes would be hung around the fire - on chairs and clothes racks. With time the coal heaters were replaced by electric ones - the rectangle things with three angry red coils but the clothes rack stayed the same - layered with damp clothes that kept the room humid and warm.

Bangalore Dec 2011. Waiting for jalebis to get cooked.

Winter also brought the hot, calorie dense comfort foods. Suddenly all the carts in the market were fitted with coal grills, huge griddles or fryers. Many still had the signs and prices for ice cream, kulfi and fruit salads from summer but were now selling chicken rolls, roasted fresh corn, pakoras and hot jalebis. We'd huddle around the cart, our breath fogging the air as we warmed our fingers while waiting for the hot snacks.


There were huge displays outside stores showcasing yarns of wool that aunts would buy and knit into questionably fashionable sweaters. Groups of people wrapped in checkered blankets huddled around makeshift bonfires was a common sight.

So today I took another walk and found fresh hot jalebis. They were good but nothing compared to the ones you get up North. I don't think it was the taste that made them average. There is just something else about eating them when your breath fogs up the air.

Stories take work - sometimes they take two autos, two buses and a car ride.

Things don't just happen. I don't wake up in the morning and go off and something fun happens. Most of my days are pretty planned - even the ones that turn out to be fun. All in all most of what I have done in India has been very deliberate.

I had to take a train back from one of my trekking trips. It was four hours away from Bangalore. I was alone and when I reached the station I was told the train was cancelled. I asked the station incharge how to find a bus and he told me that I'd have to get to a town five kilometers away. I whipped out my phone and wrote down the name. It sounded really foreign. The way to get to that town was via shared autos - where you pay per seat.

I sat in a shared auto. One that had me alongside a group of interesting people. A woman - who folded her legs on the seat making room for a huge bundle of veggies and made herself really comfortable for the ride. A teenager in school uniform looking really depressed at having to wear school clothes on a Sunday. An old man with tobacoo stained teeth who shared the seat with the driver and talked non stop all the way. A middle aged man with a really strict face that kept sneaking shifty glances at everyone else in the auto. I really wanted someone to climb in with a goat, that would complete the picture of me backpacking through a small Indian town. The 5K trip  on this shared auto cost me Rs 5 (10cents).  It took that little to leave me with so many images and so many stories in my head.

The auto dropped me at the town's bus station. I walked around and bought two guavas for 20 cents from a guy I could not understand. Fingers and pointing helped. With fruit in hand I walked around looking for an air conditioned bus. The trip was going to be four hours long and I wanted something comfortable. It was a busy bus station but I soon realized that there were no AC buses so I got onto what is known as a local bus - with a hard wooden bench for a seat and open windows. Experienced, I placed my backpack on the seat next to me deciding to remove it only when the seat was needed. The Indian me had the whole bench to myself. I was pleased.

The bus stopped in towns I had never heard of. I ate boiled peanuts and South Indian fried fritters I had not seen before. I amused a tiny two year old that sat in the seat in front of me. I even sneaked a nap despite the hard seat and dusty wind blowing onto my face. I did cling onto my backpack as I slept but I slept.

As we approached Bangalore I pulled out my handy dandy phone with Google maps to find out that we were travling parallel to my house. Some five miles parallel but parallel enough. The bus conductor did not understand me but soon realized that I wanted to know how to get to Whitefield. Then it happened - something I have seen happen a lot in India (in a very positive way.) My business became everyone's business. Many conversed and then one man - who seemed to be the best in English and Hindi - walked over to me and told me the bus stop I should get off at. A college student was getting off at that stop and he was placed on the seat behind me to ensure I got off at the right stop. I was told what bus to take from there to cross town.

At the silk route bus stop I was seen off. The young man, whose name I never asked, walked me over two busy roads and saw me onto my bus. We did not talk but he seemed very pleased at having done a good deed for the day.

I had travelled 175km in five hours in under $10. Two autorides, two bus rides and a car ride later I was home. It would have been really easy to hire a AC chauffered car for less than a $100. I had had the money on me. I would have been home in three hours and would have had some good sleep along the way. But then I would not have a story. Stories take work.

Haircut and a story about love

Vinu was missing from work for over three weeks. When I ran into him  I jokingly chided him for being away for so long. "My uncle passed away", he said. That shut me up good and without further drama I booked my hair cut appointment.

"Dooor kay uncle thay" (The uncle that passed away was a very distant relative) - I was told with little remorse as he shampooed my hair. "I was only there for few days then I went to Ahmedabad. A friend of mine opened a new salon in a mall. I went to help him and he wants me to work there. He'll pay more than here and work is good too."

"So why don't you go for it." I asked.

"My parents wont let me - they have said not till I get married. This place looks better on my marriage bio data. "

This reminded me of the time at Microsoft when a bride was being looked for for a program manager friend of mine - @microsoft.com is a very valuable address he told me and having 'manager' in your title helps too. I mean a year out of grad school and manager already and that too at Microsoft. That was your weight in gold in the Indian marriage market.

Back to Vinu- he told me how much he wants the job in Ahmedhabad- how his whole family (four older siblings, their spouses and his parents) were working hard on finding a girl. They have seen two already but they were not good enough. It seems two van full of people went to see the second one - his parents, siblings, spouses and kids of siblings. She had looked promising on paper but was short in person. Literally not tall enough to be a suitable bride for him.

"It will take a long time at this rate" I said. "Especially if the girl has to be approved by at least ten people.:

 "Yes" he said "but I don't mind."

Then he confided in me - "There is a problem, like a love problem. I like this girl but she is from the Northeast of India. She is Christian. I am Hindu and if we have to get married I have to change my religion. I don't want to besides my family will kill me"

That was a tough one. "Where is she now?" I asked. "
"In Udaipur. We worked together"

 Must be the reason behind the fried hair incident I thought.

" I don't know what to do, I don't want to change my religion and my parents will kill me." He continued.

"Aren't they looking for a girl for you ?" I exclaimed.

 Unfazed  he said "Oh, first they have to all agree on her, then her family will see me, then we will see each other, then there will an engagement, that is a long long time away. I wish I could just take the Ahmedabad job"

"Job? Don't you have a bigger issue to solve?"

"Yes, but Ahmedabad is just four hours from Udaipur." He said with a smile.

Now , the three weeks away made more sense. If they are anything to go by then I foresee a Christian wedding in the future where Vinu is repeatedly slapped by the ten elders in the family as he walks to the altar.

I don't know (not very light reading)

I am on a train to Hampi. On the way to the station I passed an Indian bakery. The cookies on display looked so good but so calorie ladened. I wanted to buy just two pieces but they wouldn't sell less than 250 grams. Greed won and I bought the minimum  250 grams required.

The cookies were warm, smelt good and I was enjoying the anticipation of eating them when I saw an old invalid woman- the skinniest most unfortunate person I had seen in a long time. Bangalore has it's share of beggars but none i have seen have come close to her.

She was dragging herself across the platform with her one good arm and leg. Her thighs were skinner than my arms. She was pushing a plastic bag in front of her but she was not begging.

The 250gm minimum seemed so appropriate as I took out my two cookies and gave her the rest. She did not look at me as she put it in the bag in front of her. Feeling happier I crossed over to my platform.

Ten minutes later - after I had looked at all the charts and people on my platform- I looked across and saw her again. She had moved some ten feet. She had neared a family of three sitting on a bench. The parents stood up and walked away. Their little boy stopped looked and was pulled along by his mom.

My train's arrival was announced and I felt helpless. I quickly walked over to the refreshment stand a bought a bottle of juice. Knowing I had but a few minutes I ran up the stairs and to the platform she was on. I handed her the juice and a hundred rupees. She put the juice in her bag and started at the note. Feeling conscious and worried about time I crossed over back to my platform. I saw her give her bag another push before I boarded my train.

I had wanted to see her eat and drink. I don't know what lies outside the station for her - a home or a slumdog millionaire gang. I don't know if she will drink the juice, don't know if the money will be robbed off her. I don't know.

Logically I should have not given her money but donated to an NGO that helps many such people. It is hard though to be logical when you feel helpless and guilty.

I think I tried to do something so I could sleep easy. It is 1 am and sleep isn't coming. Must be the noise of the train. I really don't know.

Why I am internally happier in India

I am happier here. I miss Seattle and friends and my home there but internally I am happier in India. A blog by a friend - Watching a blind man  and my recent visit to Seattle made me realize why.

In Seattle I want. In India I have.

In Seattle I was driving out of our community –

• past a beautifully landscaped garden – I made a mental note of the fertilizer and weed killer I had NOT bought. I would also get a few more shrubs for the backyard.
• past a house with the man on the roof, cleaning it – Peeyush would NOT do that. Got me thinking of all the Indian guys I knew and who would get on and clean the roof, put up Christmas lights and paint the deck. None was the answer.
• past a skinny fit woman in Lululemon joggers running uphill faster than I run downhill. NOT something I could do.
• past a hot air balloon in the sky. I looked longingly at it. I had NOT done that before. I wanted to.

In a five minute drive I had seen a lot I wanted and did not have.

In India, I don’t drive but when I am driven out

• past the crowd waiting at the bus stop at the end of a long day I feel thankful of the car I have.
•  past the shack that is a store during the day and a home at night I can’t but reflect on the beautiful spacious home I have.
• past the vendors selling cheap fried food to people that will never see a gym I think of my personal trainer, the food cooked at home and the fact that I have the time and means to exercise.
•  past the liquor store and see the line of men getting their supply for the night, I am glad I have a husband who wants to come home and loves his family.
• past the beggars and the panipuri wala with a plastic bag on his head ready for the rain as I walk into pub for drinks with friends. I feel lucky about the opportunities I have and the people I know.

I know you could look at a lot of this in India and be saddened by it. But internally I cannot be sad. I am just too lucky, too privileged; I have so much that it would be an insult to luck/fate/God to be sad. I don’t deserve to be sad. I just can’t be sad. 



PS:  When I was going to move here in a discussion with someone who had moved I said that I was scared as I'd be saddened by seeing some of the things here. He said a very nice thing - you can be sad or do something about it.
I volunteer full time and try to ensure that I do the best i can for people that I come in contact with. That does help me sleep better that night.
This post is about being grateful. Really now I am less wanting and way more grateful and satisfied with what I have.

Familiarity - Hey the car wash guy said Hi

We visited Seattle this summer after a year of being in Bangalore. First day there I took the kids for lunch to Red Robin and ran into Sue – Ankit’s old Tae Kwon Do master’s wife. I was at Mayuri later that evening and ran into a few folks from my Microsoft days. The next day few days I kept bumping into people around every corner - Costco, Whole Foods and the Kirkland waterfront. These were accidental meetups, running into familiar people without any plans. When I visited my old workplace I felt like I had never left it. The last straw was when I went to get the car washed at my favorite place (Flamingo car wash before Costco is awesome) the guy there asked me where I had gone, had I left Seattle? The car wash guy!!!  I mean if he remembers you then at some point you belonged there.

During my trip to Seattle I realized that this is something I really missed. Belonging and knowing, being familiar.

Then a few days ago we went to the mall here. We stopped to eat pani puris on the way, the pani puri guy knows us now and even tries to give us extra free pani puris. Then we met the woman who runs the music school Ankit learns piano at. A little chat ensued. At the mall we ran into Ashvin’s friends and his parents. We had a lovely unplanned walk around the mall with them before they dropped us home. Today the pani puri guy was as nice and then at the mall while getting Ashvin’s hair cut the hairdresser asked “Peeyush sir has not been here recently”.

Not quite close to Seattle but we are getting there. I mean one pani puri dude plus a hair dresser is pretty close to a car wash guy.

Adventures on an auto - dropped my iphone 4 in one.

Ankit and I came back from a hike today. The bus dropped us at Wind Tunnel Road and our plan was to get an auto home from there. I called home to confirm our plans and we picked up a little snack - roasted corn on the cob - before getting an auto. The fare was negotiated to a meter plus twenty but I am past that at the moment.

We ate our corn and some twenty minutes later were home. Some twenty minutes after that I realized that my phone was missing. My phone with all my contacts, with photos from the trip today, my iphone that would be hard to replace was nowhere to be found.

We searched high and low for it and then I succumbed to the realization that I dropped it in or out of the auto. "Now that it is in an auto then it is gone, there is no way to get it" Lalita - our housekeeper - sadly told me. I picked up the home phone and called my number. No reply. Peeyush called it. No reply. In my head I wishfully could imagine an autowala wondering how to answer the call. I also hoped that the ease of use of an iphone might help him answer it.

When I had called home my phone was at 5% charge so I was scared of ringing it too many times but that is all I could do - call it. And call it again. On the fifth try the autowalla picked up. Excited but scared of the battery dying I hurriedly asked him to bring it to our place.

For the next five minutes I could hardly contain my excitement and nervousness. What if he got distracted by another fare? What if he realized how much the phone was actually worth?

The autowala showed up and gave me the phone. He seemed to be as excited about returning it to me as I was to get it. I tipped him generously.  He told me I was lucky as two other passengers got in after me and noone saw the phone. I was so caught up in the emotions that I did not ask his name. I did not get the auto number. He might not have realized what he had - I do have a cute but kiddish hello kitty cover on my phone :) but he bought it back to me. For this evening he is my hero and I am glad that an iphone is as intuitive as it is.

Wonder La - where else...

Where else do you have a water park but no swimsuits? No, I do not mean naked people and I do consider the top-to-toe leotards seen in the Atlantis at Dubai a form of swimsuit. At Wonder La, Bangalore where else ?? J

Plenty of women in salwar kameej, saris and capris. Most men were in tank tops and shorts, or TShirts ( one said “Killer Girl” on it – which is different from “Girl Killer”) and shorts but I did see two in their boxers – like underwear boxer shorts – and I did wish they were in some shorts.

 Where else do you have a wave pool with a divider in it? One side for women and children and another for men. Women were allowed in the ‘men’ side but there was no vice versa reciprocal allowed. In my attempt to go see what Ankit was upto in the far far end of the men side I quickly realized the reason for the division.

Where else is Ashvin asked his name and says “It is Ashvin only” as this is the twentieth time someone had asked him that and then pinched his cheeks.

It was interesting to see a water park very different from the ones I have been to in the US and other places. The place was clean and had really good well maintained rides. The food and drinks were cheap and plenty. The clothes threw me off for a bit but to each their own - you don't need a swimsuit to have fun :). The 'bad' parts were where people cut in line in front of you and poked their head in the changing locker to ask if you were done but you learn to deal with that really fast - don't leave space in front of you and keep a hand on the changing room curtain. Adaptability I call it.

Besides the modesty in clothes and some un-modesty in the men's side of the wave pool Wonder La was extremely fun. The six of us enjoyed it and made multiple plans for returning.









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Coming soon - a review with more pictures and details about the park,

Adventures on an auto - I am a meter plus twenty

I got in an auto and the driver - henceforth autowala - asked me "How much will you pay?" "Meter plus twenty" I confidently replied. He said it sounded good to him and off we went.

Auto fares - like most cab fares - are supposed to be determined by a meter hooked up inside the auto. However, it is hard to find autowalas that go by the meter alone.  The price ultimately depends a lot on what you look like and how you talk. How meaning how foreign or gullible.

I know my price - meter plus twenty. Sharon- blonde and very white - is meter plus fifty on a good day and meter into two on any other given day. My purebred Bangalore friends would balk at paying anything but what the meter reads till 11pm ( after which your looks don't matter anymore. Everyone looks the same - needy)

Outside a mall in Whitefield there is an auto stand - a place where you will find a group of autorikshaws at almost any time of the day. Whitefield is also home to quite a few expat communities which in turn means home to a lot of foreigners. Thus this particular autostand is home to some rather ridiculous fare quotes and bargaining. The fare to our community is Rs 17 and it is fun to see what you are going to be quoted.

I have had Rs 100 thrown at me a couple of times and barring a day where I had Ashvin sleeping in my arms I have bargained it down to Rs 30. Peeyush on the other hand does look more Indian than I do so I was rather surprised when he was quoted Rs 100. Shorts and slippers - the recently american returned look - did it we inferred. The fact that he agreed to Rs 50 has doomed all the guys in similar attire I am sure.

So back to me being a meter + twenty. Over my multiple trips that is what I have inferred my fare ends up being. This ensures I am taken home using the fast and short route with minimum haggling. And what do I do when I meet the rare honest guy who does not haggle and goes only by the meter? I give him meter + twenty at the end. You got to be fair right?

Living in a country far away from your family – not light reading

As I type this I am on a flight to pick up my grandma. She was visiting friends in Ranchi when she fell breaking her wrist and injuring her back. This made it hard for her to walk. If I were in Seattle I would have heard about this over the phone sometime later this week. Here I am able to fly over and see to her - right now. I know things would have gone on and she would have been well taken care by others that love her. My Nani was always there for me growing up, she was there when I had my first baby. Many people love her and would have taken care of her but today I can. I am happy I can.

This is not a guilt inducer - it is about how life is. Many of us might not have been able to help our parents/relatives if it were not for the jobs that took us far away from them. Then when the roots set in it is hard to move back.

This is about realizing that things happen here that you don't realize the gravity of or derive the full joy from. Things that involve your family. It is not just about flying in for a surgery, it is about being there all the time. Once you are here people tell you more. It is not just that calls are cheap but the closeness makes them less apprehensive about worrying you.

My mother was sick a few times when I lived in the US and she got better. It was not serious enough for me to fly in and I called and checked on her. My father had his gall bladder stones removed - not a big enough issue for me to come. My cousins got married and I did come for their wedding nor see their spouses for years. I did not give this much thought while I was not here but now that I am it is hitting me really hard.

If a psychic told you –  that a child that would fall into a river at noon today, you could save the child but would sprain your arm in doing so. There were two scenarios this could happen in -

1. You were the only one that could save the child
2. There were many that would save the child if you were not there.

We'd all show up for 1 but for 2 – well that is like being here and not being here. If you are here you end up doing more but if you are not then things go on. You are just not part of it.

Finding an expat house in Whitefield – the criteria

A grown up pool and club house at Epsilon

We visited Bangalore last March to look for a place to stay for the next two years. We had a relocation specialist to help us. We looked at houses in Whitefield and Indranagar then at some flats around Taj Westend before we settled on Palm Meadows. (Click here for a breakdown on some communities we visited)



Our children factored a lot in our criteria for choosing a place to stay. Listed below are our criteria for choosing a community and a house.

A very kid friendly pool at Palm Meadows.
Grown up pools are also there but kids go crazy on this.

Our criteria in choosing a community:

1. Safety: We have two young kids and we wanted a place where they could play on the street without us worrying. A walk to and from the bus stop was not something that caused white hairs.
   
2. Location: Close to the kids school ( with transport access) and close enough to work. We initially wanted to live in the middle of town but staying closer to the children's school is wise with Bangalore traffic.
   
3. Friends: Not necessarily a place where our friends lived but a place with the potential to make friends. We had to find a community with like minded people – people with similar interests and children in the same age group.
   
4. Convenience: It should be walking distance to places and within reasonable walk able distance to public transport. This allows you to get help from other parts of town and also enables you and your visitors to get an auto etc when and if needed. Having shops – grocery and medicine – around makes life easier. Having a mall or movie theater at a walking distance makes for good evening walks with a destination.
   
5. Age: Age of the community was something we kept in mind. Too old meant houses that needed lots of work, too young meant construction going on. Ongoing construction was a no go for us. A well aged community also meant help that had engrained themselves there and a network of handymen and delivery services.
   

Our criteria for choosing a house:

View from an Epsilon house. Pretty but has potential for
being noisy and dusty.

Backyard in a Palm Meadows house.

1. Budget: Houses in Bangalore can literally cause your jaw to drop. This is also one of the few cities that require an 11 month (not a typo -eleven month) rent deposit upfront. So, it is pertinent you know your budget before you start looking.
   
2. Number of rooms: Our minimum was four bedrooms. It is unusual for houses to have more than four bedrooms in many communities for rent. We also wanted a puja room and an office. It is worthwhile to look at a few houses and then come up with your layout criteria.
   
3. Garden/patio/terrace: We wanted some open space and there are houses with more sit outs and water features but less garden. We wanted a garden for the kids to play in and were clear about that.
   
4. Beyond the wall: After looking at some houses I was carefull in what I saw beyond the wall of the house we were looking at. A temple, a field, a construction ground – these all meant strangers loitering around and impacted the safety criteria.
   
5. View: view in Bangalore is not a view per say but I did not want to look at three houses our of every window and have people looking right back at me. Some houses had neighboring windows looking straight into each other.
   
6. Bathrooms: Older communities tend to have bathrooms that are horrible, showers you cannot spread your hands in and tiles that look like they are weeping dirty tears. There was a time in India ( and is still in some places) where palatial houses had tiny kitchens and bathrooms – some rental houses have carried that tradition along.
   

When I was a little…

Ashvin washing up in a pond.

The fifth time I uttered these words in two days I realized that I was happy but more importantly - I was growing old. This is something sure to happen to you if you take your kids someplace time slowed down at and retrace a few steps of your childhood. We went to a village a few days back.

On the train ride there I told Ankit how at his age I loved getting up on the top berth and reading books all night long.

Hours later, as we boarded the local bus, there was the story of me rushing to the back seats of  buses with my friends. Those seats threw you high up when the bus went over potholes. It was like a rollercoaster.

I think I held back my excitement and did not utter ‘when I was little’ till we reached our bed and breakfast and stood near a mango tree. The little raw mangoes bought back too many memories and another story of how we stole them. About how un-ladylike I was as I lifted up my skirt to carry as many as I could back home (I was five).



Walking along some fields.

 The next day we walked through paddy fields and had to cross a few irrigation trenches. I had spent many days in fields behind my grandmother’s house creating little dams and watching our slippers float down the tiny canals. My kids got to hear all about it.

Then sugarcane sticks showed up and another story followed as I demonstrated the steps - peel, gnaw, spit – to eating a fresh piece of sugarcane.

There were many more moments like that and when I finally got time to reflect I realized somewhere in all of this, I felt happy, I felt like a kid and then I felt really old.

Disparity - dealing with the maid's child (not so light reading)

We live amongst a few rather affluent people. The kids here all visit the US or UK or some similar place every year. They go to high end schools, are well versed with the Wii and latest gadgets, and all have good manners. They are rich kids. In a house down the road there are three children. These are the children of the cook and maid of the house. They live in two rooms attached to the house. The oldest amongst them is Sapna, one of Ashvin's best friends. Sapna is not a rich kid. In India there is a huge difference between rich and not rich.
As she sometimes does, Sapna joined us for a walk today. We went to the mall and had an ice cream each. We walked around a bit and then Ashvin had to use the restroom. As wanting to use the loo seems to be contagious amongst kids we all queued up at the family restroom. When Sapna was done I asked her if she had washed her hands. She said no, she did not know how the get the tap to work. I showed her how to move her hands so the motion detector would kick in. Then I asked her to use the soap pump and hand washing was done. From the corner of my eye I saw Ankit watching all this – very attentively. I had seen the same look when I had taught her to use a fork on a visit to pizza hut.
Ankit had only seen equals amongst kids before he came to India. In Sammamish there was little discrepancy in social or financial standing amongst kids. How strict your parents were was the biggest delimiting factor. Here I have watched him sometimes watch attentively and at other times look away when he encounters children financially different from him. He has mentioned he is more grateful for what he has and once even chided Peeyush for grumbling about having a lousy day. On his way to school, Ankit had seen a little girl – barely six he said – trying to chop wood. For a few days he allowed no grumbling in the house. We had no right to grumble he said.
Sapna is well fed and clothed; she goes to school and speaks English really well. She is a happy child. I am not sure what the implications of my taking her to restaurants and teaching her about things alien to her are going to be. Will it embed in her a want to achieve all that or will she be dissatisfied with the life she has. I am not sure if I should do something more, something less. For now, I try to see her just as Ashvin's friend and I try to treat her as I would another friend of his.
And from the corner of my eye I watch Ankit, attentively, to ensure he stays sensitive and does not let the frequency and commonality of the Sapna's around him numb him.