Alkapuri, the upmarket suburb, was fast changing into a jungle of newly erected high-rise apartment blocks, some separated by just a few meters and this is what made the 'walled garden' so special. The space hadn't been sold to 'developers' - it's a wild place of palms and other trees and shrubs, all jumbled closely together and in the early morning, it becomes an enchanted space. A green lung exuding oxygen. Bird life seems concentrated within its borders, a chorus of bird song, a variety of sounds, as feathers are fluffed out in busy grooming. Green parakeets swoop urgently from one tree to another and back again, with a flash of their emerald wings and even butterflies, quite close by, pale in the morning light, settle for a moment and then move on. And just over the far wall, in the distance, through the dense foliage, to the street beyond, a woman in an orange sari, quietly bends....her left arm gracefully behind her back, as she sweeps up the fallen leaves with her charu.
Tuesday 27 August 2013
THE ENTREPRENEUR !
Basier drew up with a flourish, his new green and yellow rickshaw throbbing with life, a large smile on his face. Something of a change from the SUV with tinted windows which he used to drive ! We had a deal - he would be my chauffeur, tuk tuk, driver in the afternoons. As we bowled along, I asked him how he enjoyed driving a rickshaw. "It's a good business", he said "I make 500 rupees a day and I get to go home at 6 p.m. - no overtime and I'm my own boss !" He paid 50 000 rupees for the vehicle, so it'll pay for itself in about 4 months !
Friday 23 August 2013
....IN THE NEWS AGAIN !
The news was full of another gang rape, this time in Mumbai...so the litany goes on. It reminded me of the strange tale I heard some time ago sitting having coffee with someone I had just met. A hotel cleaner had followed her into her room and attempted to rape her, but she managed to throw him off and highly upset, went straight downstairs to report the incident to the hotel manager and desk staff. This was received with smirks and derision. Incensed at their indifference, she decided to take her complaint to the police. They charged and arrested the man, who was sentenced to a beating, to which the girl was invited. After they had delivered some strokes with a cane, they asked her if she felt justice had been done.....the next bit of the story was utterly astonishing....she said that she didn't think he'd been beaten enough, at which they invited her to have a go ! She accepted the challenge and finished off the beating herself ! Of course, what was most wounding to the man, was not the beating itself, but the fact that he'd been beaten by a woman !
The strange situation of independent women in India, is a sign of the times and the globalisation of cultural traditions - old habits die hard and women seen out of the context of the family, are a sticking point, for they are regarded not as people but as objects, in a patriarchal society. The emancipated woman challenges tradition and economic structure.
Walking home one evening at about 10 o'clock after having had dinner with a friend, a matter of a 10 minute distance, a young man entered the road down which I was walking, on a motor bike - the headlight blinded me and as he approached, he slowed down and then lent out and with all his force, punched me in the chest, knocking me off balance. He quickly sped off, stopping half-way down the road, to look back to see my reaction !
Most women riding on scooters cover themselves up with a scarf, so that only their eyes are revealed - this is ostensibly to protect their skin from the sun, but I think it also gives them a modicum of protection from insolent staring and harassment ! It's only through education at grass root level, that respect can be nurtured and ridicule eliminated.
The strange situation of independent women in India, is a sign of the times and the globalisation of cultural traditions - old habits die hard and women seen out of the context of the family, are a sticking point, for they are regarded not as people but as objects, in a patriarchal society. The emancipated woman challenges tradition and economic structure.
Walking home one evening at about 10 o'clock after having had dinner with a friend, a matter of a 10 minute distance, a young man entered the road down which I was walking, on a motor bike - the headlight blinded me and as he approached, he slowed down and then lent out and with all his force, punched me in the chest, knocking me off balance. He quickly sped off, stopping half-way down the road, to look back to see my reaction !
Most women riding on scooters cover themselves up with a scarf, so that only their eyes are revealed - this is ostensibly to protect their skin from the sun, but I think it also gives them a modicum of protection from insolent staring and harassment ! It's only through education at grass root level, that respect can be nurtured and ridicule eliminated.
Wednesday 21 August 2013
EVERY SQUARE INCH
Decades ago this was a very upmarket part of town. Large properties with sprawling gardens and spacious art deco houses, lined the streets, creating an air of casual grace. Shopping malls were unheard of and the streets were a lot quieter. But with the increasing value of land, property owners have been unable to resist the temptation to sell off their land to developers, who are quickly putting up one apartment block after another, creating a concrete jungle - a slum, where green spaces are a thing of the past.
The loss of this habitat must be catastrophic for bird life, not to mention the general quality of life all round. In order to regain their 'paradise lost', the wealthy have moved out and are building their new villas on the edge of town, where they can again, see nature and breathe clean air and exclusivity. And so the town is creeping forward and urbanisation is spreading. A few original properties still exist, but it's only a matter of time before they, too, succumb !
The loss of this habitat must be catastrophic for bird life, not to mention the general quality of life all round. In order to regain their 'paradise lost', the wealthy have moved out and are building their new villas on the edge of town, where they can again, see nature and breathe clean air and exclusivity. And so the town is creeping forward and urbanisation is spreading. A few original properties still exist, but it's only a matter of time before they, too, succumb !
ADAPTING TO CHANGE
It's much easier to calibrate upwards and enjoy the refinement of Western goods and much more difficult to do the opposite and get used to the lack of quality in a third world culture. Butterfly tin openers are unavailable, but a pretty kurta in purple with hand embroidery and bits of bling, is very easy to find. It's interesting to see how the down turn in the economy effects everything so quickly. The response to economic woe, is like watching the water go out of a lock and the subsequent descent of the boat to a lower level.
Shopping malls are empty, as are the shops - bulk buying of cheap goods, piled high on the shop floor, instantly lowers the tone of the shop. Bacon, which was readily available 4 months ago, is no longer to be found, but instead plenty of cheap chicken and cheese sausages. The emphasis is more on staple food, rather than luxury items, which might not sell quickly.
As I alighted from the tuk tuk, he came running up to me, a broad smile on his face, The last time I'd seen him, he was employed as my friend's trusted driver and majordomo, ferrying her and members of her family, hither and thither in the large air conditioned 4 x 4 with darkened windows.
"How is the madam?" I asked....."no, no, I resigned" he said "that young son of their's made me let him drive the car, even though he was under age and I got into trouble - I couldn't take that stress - he was too much to handle". My face fell, wondering how he was managing.
"I've bought a rickshaw for 50 000 rupees and this is my business now" !!
Shopping malls are empty, as are the shops - bulk buying of cheap goods, piled high on the shop floor, instantly lowers the tone of the shop. Bacon, which was readily available 4 months ago, is no longer to be found, but instead plenty of cheap chicken and cheese sausages. The emphasis is more on staple food, rather than luxury items, which might not sell quickly.
As I alighted from the tuk tuk, he came running up to me, a broad smile on his face, The last time I'd seen him, he was employed as my friend's trusted driver and majordomo, ferrying her and members of her family, hither and thither in the large air conditioned 4 x 4 with darkened windows.
"How is the madam?" I asked....."no, no, I resigned" he said "that young son of their's made me let him drive the car, even though he was under age and I got into trouble - I couldn't take that stress - he was too much to handle". My face fell, wondering how he was managing.
"I've bought a rickshaw for 50 000 rupees and this is my business now" !!
Monday 19 August 2013
AUGUST
After 4 months away, arriving in Mumbai between Monsoon showers, was like stepping into a warm, damp, wooly, sock. Everywhere there is interaction between people and indifference and isolation have no place. Five people will collaborate to get the job done, in a collective responsibility. The individualism under which one operates in the West, has no place in India's group thinking.
Moonsoon showers have left large puddles of stagnant water along the roads and the lack of pavements makes walking difficult. Two dogs, alert and aggressive, threaten a monkey perched on a gate post - it bares its teeth and I wonder how it will escape from its predicament. The noise of the street takes getting used to again and it's necessary to recalibrate time, as arrangements are shifted and appointments become random acts of fate. People smile, laugh and stare and every move is discussed and debated - the scrutiny and curiosity never cease.
The apartment which was smart 2 years ago, is showing signs of wear and tear. Water has seeped through the kitchen ceiling in places, the paint is bubbling and peeling and mould creates abstract patterns on the walls. The bungalow next door has been painted bright pink, all three floors - it looks like a large gaudy blancmange. They are fitting a new pipe in the upstairs flat and the sound of banging and drilling mesh with the humidity - a background to the exhaustion and alienation of a long flight and the feeling of dislocation, being separated from one culture and not yet part of another.
Moonsoon showers have left large puddles of stagnant water along the roads and the lack of pavements makes walking difficult. Two dogs, alert and aggressive, threaten a monkey perched on a gate post - it bares its teeth and I wonder how it will escape from its predicament. The noise of the street takes getting used to again and it's necessary to recalibrate time, as arrangements are shifted and appointments become random acts of fate. People smile, laugh and stare and every move is discussed and debated - the scrutiny and curiosity never cease.
The apartment which was smart 2 years ago, is showing signs of wear and tear. Water has seeped through the kitchen ceiling in places, the paint is bubbling and peeling and mould creates abstract patterns on the walls. The bungalow next door has been painted bright pink, all three floors - it looks like a large gaudy blancmange. They are fitting a new pipe in the upstairs flat and the sound of banging and drilling mesh with the humidity - a background to the exhaustion and alienation of a long flight and the feeling of dislocation, being separated from one culture and not yet part of another.
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