warning: this is rambling and dull
I don't remember the last time I felt SO bad when leaving Chennai. I began brooding a week before and on the day I cried in the bathroom, some more in the taxi and also a little on the plane. All this was done skillfully enough that nobody else noticed.
I am gripped by a fear every time I leave that one of my grandparents could die before our next trip. Being grandparents and all, they are also very upset to see us leave and their sadness redoubles my sadness. :'( Apart from all that, this particular trip was so idyllic. In comparison life in Cherrybrook... sucks. Can't wait till uni starts.
Just recollecting and typing the above has caused a lump to rise in my throat again.
After two and a half weeks in Chennai we flew to Delhi.
As we stepped out of the plane in Delhi into the spiffy airport I was completely bowled over. It was only second in my experience, to Singapore's Changi airport. I remember making some snide remark to Akshay as we waited for baggage, "now to see if they can make the rest of the country look like this." But lo and behold, outside the airport it was as pristine as (in fact maybe better than) Sydney and had the charm of a European city, even though there were a few too many New Law Building-esque monstrosities for my liking. The last time I came to Delhi I vaguely remember being irritated by the dust and muck and cold... it has definitely spruced up since then! And without losing its Indian sensibilities, not becoming too wannabe-ish. Pleased as I was, a few questions kept turning over in my mind... why should all the development be concentrated here? How much had any of this really translated into a better standard of living?
Shuttling from the airport to the hotel, I marvelled goggle-eyed at the sights outside my window (and a huge cockroach inside it), but was brought sharply back down to earth as we stepped out of the car and into our "three star" hotel in Karolbagh. After a brief inspection of the mouldy bed, rickety stairs and filthy bathroom, we decided that it was completely unlivable. Yet somehow Lady Luck was on our side because ten minutes later we discovered the hotel next door at only 200 Rupees ($4) more and fairly luxurious... with really good room service and excellent albeit expensive food. We moved in immediately and fought for a refund from the craphole next door.
We spent the next days wandering around Ajmal Khan Road markets, visiting the spectacular Rashtrapathi Bhavan (actually closed to the public but my dad has friends in high places. heh.) Dilli Haat, visiting family. We took a short trip to Haridwar and Rishikesh. Rishikesh was absolutely beautiful but I was irritated by the stupid pot-smoking hippies standing around like they were so cool because they were in India and had dreadlocks. Rishikesh is also a bit too commercialised. Haridwar was less pretty but it was much nicer in that respect, much more like a religious place ought to be. On our return to Delhi we did some more shopping and went to Chandni Chowk... which was a little tooo intense for my liking. In addition to the crazy crowds in Chandni Chowk, the two things I had looked forward to there- parathewali gali and chudiwale gali fell flat. The bangles in chudiwale gali were not pretty and the parathas in parathewale galli were fine until... I noticed a boy, barely six or so years old serving our food and being hit by his fat, mustachioed, greasy boss. The boy's small grimy face was filled with two big round eyes that made me so sad.
Next stop... Bombay.
Bombay is dirty and chaotic but I still like it. Shreya slips occasionally into an American accent but I still like her! So much fun. We talked and giggled a a lot, went street shopping in Bandra, made fun of a certain sect of silly young Indian people, ate a lot of very good food (burp), sang and danced to Kolaveri Di*, and watched Don 2. SRK is sooooo good looking. It's the first time that I've liked him in a while, which makes me so relieved, because loving SRK is one of the fundamental tenets that underpins the story of my life. I like Bombay's style. I feel it's... open. People are dressed much more casually, almost tardily in comparison to Delhi and its carefree ease is refreshing after Delhi's laborous trying-hard-to-look-good-all-the-timeishness.
Don 2 trailer... just for context
The second leg of our stay in Chennai was undoubtedly better than the first. Every day, I walked out on my own in the Adyar/ Besant Nagar/ Vanandurai area and just traipsed off wherever the wind took me. I consumed copious amounts of coconut water, ate some Frankies, street chaat, bought trashy magazines, amazing books, jewellery, some cloth ($1.50 a metre! winning) paintbrushes, etc. By this time, I was more settled and orientated in Indian-ness, so conversed and interacted with local people (cobbler, coconut lady, lady selling jewellery on the sidewalk) a lot more, particularly the ones who were used to seeing me very regularly (coconut and jewellery ladies). It's so different... conversation is so much more spontaneous and un-guarded. I miss being able to just walk out on the street and chill and talk to strangers like that. It's just not possible here! When we first returned and the house was empty I was feeling really lonely and strange so I took a walk to Castle Towers to pass the time. I succeeded only in making myself feel worse, if anything. Firstly, nobody walks anywhere, so I was stared and once honked at. Then, as it was the end of school holidays, Castle Towers was filled with skanky self-important fourteen/fifteen year olds acting like absolute idiots. The falafel I bought was so damn tasteless that I chucked it. And caught the bus home.
Anyway, back to Chennai. Sooo... my aunt mentioned to us the month-long Mylapore Festival, where, after a series of foiled attempts, she insisted we'd be able to catch a bharatanatyam performance. We just casually wandered in at around 5:30 in the evening and Mylapore was packed (even more) with people. It was amazing. The atmosphere was electric! There were stalls along the sidewalk and pretty lights hanging all around the streets. In front of the awesome Kapaleeshwar Temple (which dates back to at least the 7th century) they'd set up an open-air stage for classical dances. We also went to a Hindustani music concert which was divine. The streets had been closed off for a kolam (like rangoli) competition: rows and rows of intricate, beautiful white patterns lined the roads. There were men wandering around (this part warms the cockles of my heart) handing out free cloth bags to people and taking their plastic ones and telling them how it was important for the environment.
Of course, there are frustrations too. I found out why Chennai was so trashed this time; the local government fought and ended a contract with one company for rubbish collection, but it was taking its owwwwn sweeeeet time to sign on another. Describing how inconveniencing it was, some relatives (not likely to read :p) also mentioned the "irritating ragpickers" that they attracted "adding to the eyesore"! I was speechless for a few moments at their insensitivity. So their problem with the existence of dismally poor people in their area is that they're... ugly?
If I asked a man on the street to describe India they'd probably talk about something very Slumdog Millionaire-esque, maybe throw some Taj Mahal in. The fact is, however, that there is no one homogenous India. It's a phrase oft-repeated that "there are many Indias in India". If it's true that there are many poor people, it is also true that three of the top ten richest in the world are Indian. If it's true that some women are suppressed, it's also true that a large proportion of the highest posts are held by women, a fact which does not hold true in the West. There is immense cultural, ethnic diversity between each state.
You can't say that any one of these pictures is any more "relevant" to India than the other. They are all as real and pervasive as the other, and they each exist in their own bubble. This is the problem.
Most of my upper middle-class relatives that self-importantly proffer their opinions completely disregard the existence of rural India, or even of the urban poor that clean their houses, iron their clothes and drive them to work. "This country's going to the dogs if they don't invest more in communications..." blah blah. Any mention of the underprivileged is mostly to make a jibe: "These damned Biharis coming in...". I wanted to scream out, OMG PEOPLE DON'T HAVE FOOD AND WATER AND YOU'RE ANNOYED THEY AREN'T IMPROVING YOUR INTERNET CONNECTION!? (which isn't that bad imo) or other bourgeois facilities basically aimed at attracting/maintaining interest from multinational rapist corporations (wow I sound so Marxist... but it's true). A big favourite is criticising the "bastard politicians" that don't have their own brilliant foresight in these matters. I'm sorry to say, even my parents are guilty of all the above- especially dad. He was arguing the same to one of his cousins, who sat quietly and listened for a bit... then totally smashed him down! He highlighted that there's so much more that needs to be done, that the rural poor need security. I stared wide-eyed with delight as finally somebody spoke some sense... my new favourite relative ;)
But then speaking of education, I think the Indian understanding of it is mainly as a form of vocational training, over all its loftier purposes. That's bad. And on a side note, I am also a little confused how useful it really is when a barely literate taxi driver can speak on local and international affairs with so much acuteness and be so rational and balanced, other people in a land blessed with first-rate institutions can actually believe that a carbon tax will remove all the CO2 in the air and kill us (No. I will never let that go...)
That said, I am grateful to come back to Australia for one reason: my friends :) We meet two or three times a week and if anything's guaranteed to put a smile on my face for a while, it's them.*hugs*
* Reeeaaally off tangent- but apparently the song is hot property in nightclubs and discos throughout... Japan, of all the places! So much so that visiting PM Yoshihiko Noda had Dhanush (the writer, singer) as a special guest at formal dinner with PM Singh.LOL
I don't remember the last time I felt SO bad when leaving Chennai. I began brooding a week before and on the day I cried in the bathroom, some more in the taxi and also a little on the plane. All this was done skillfully enough that nobody else noticed.
I am gripped by a fear every time I leave that one of my grandparents could die before our next trip. Being grandparents and all, they are also very upset to see us leave and their sadness redoubles my sadness. :'( Apart from all that, this particular trip was so idyllic. In comparison life in Cherrybrook... sucks. Can't wait till uni starts.
Just recollecting and typing the above has caused a lump to rise in my throat again.
After two and a half weeks in Chennai we flew to Delhi.
As we stepped out of the plane in Delhi into the spiffy airport I was completely bowled over. It was only second in my experience, to Singapore's Changi airport. I remember making some snide remark to Akshay as we waited for baggage, "now to see if they can make the rest of the country look like this." But lo and behold, outside the airport it was as pristine as (in fact maybe better than) Sydney and had the charm of a European city, even though there were a few too many New Law Building-esque monstrosities for my liking. The last time I came to Delhi I vaguely remember being irritated by the dust and muck and cold... it has definitely spruced up since then! And without losing its Indian sensibilities, not becoming too wannabe-ish. Pleased as I was, a few questions kept turning over in my mind... why should all the development be concentrated here? How much had any of this really translated into a better standard of living?
Shuttling from the airport to the hotel, I marvelled goggle-eyed at the sights outside my window (and a huge cockroach inside it), but was brought sharply back down to earth as we stepped out of the car and into our "three star" hotel in Karolbagh. After a brief inspection of the mouldy bed, rickety stairs and filthy bathroom, we decided that it was completely unlivable. Yet somehow Lady Luck was on our side because ten minutes later we discovered the hotel next door at only 200 Rupees ($4) more and fairly luxurious... with really good room service and excellent albeit expensive food. We moved in immediately and fought for a refund from the craphole next door.
We spent the next days wandering around Ajmal Khan Road markets, visiting the spectacular Rashtrapathi Bhavan (actually closed to the public but my dad has friends in high places. heh.) Dilli Haat, visiting family. We took a short trip to Haridwar and Rishikesh. Rishikesh was absolutely beautiful but I was irritated by the stupid pot-smoking hippies standing around like they were so cool because they were in India and had dreadlocks. Rishikesh is also a bit too commercialised. Haridwar was less pretty but it was much nicer in that respect, much more like a religious place ought to be. On our return to Delhi we did some more shopping and went to Chandni Chowk... which was a little tooo intense for my liking. In addition to the crazy crowds in Chandni Chowk, the two things I had looked forward to there- parathewali gali and chudiwale gali fell flat. The bangles in chudiwale gali were not pretty and the parathas in parathewale galli were fine until... I noticed a boy, barely six or so years old serving our food and being hit by his fat, mustachioed, greasy boss. The boy's small grimy face was filled with two big round eyes that made me so sad.
Next stop... Bombay.
Bombay is dirty and chaotic but I still like it. Shreya slips occasionally into an American accent but I still like her! So much fun. We talked and giggled a a lot, went street shopping in Bandra, made fun of a certain sect of silly young Indian people, ate a lot of very good food (burp), sang and danced to Kolaveri Di*, and watched Don 2. SRK is sooooo good looking. It's the first time that I've liked him in a while, which makes me so relieved, because loving SRK is one of the fundamental tenets that underpins the story of my life. I like Bombay's style. I feel it's... open. People are dressed much more casually, almost tardily in comparison to Delhi and its carefree ease is refreshing after Delhi's laborous trying-hard-to-look-good-all-the-timeishness.
Don 2 trailer... just for context
Finally, Pune. Very restful, we just walked around and ate lots of food. Pune is surprisingly a really nice city! I wasn't expecting it to be so clean, green and pleasant. I just found it a bit strange that so many people on the road tie scarves around their heads... the pollution isn't even bad. Such over-preciousness sort of irritates me. But the vada pav was exceptionally good (AND ONLY Rs. 8!!! about 16 cents) so that made up for it. The plane ride from Pune back to Chennai was eventful... in my head teehee
The second leg of our stay in Chennai was undoubtedly better than the first. Every day, I walked out on my own in the Adyar/ Besant Nagar/ Vanandurai area and just traipsed off wherever the wind took me. I consumed copious amounts of coconut water, ate some Frankies, street chaat, bought trashy magazines, amazing books, jewellery, some cloth ($1.50 a metre! winning) paintbrushes, etc. By this time, I was more settled and orientated in Indian-ness, so conversed and interacted with local people (cobbler, coconut lady, lady selling jewellery on the sidewalk) a lot more, particularly the ones who were used to seeing me very regularly (coconut and jewellery ladies). It's so different... conversation is so much more spontaneous and un-guarded. I miss being able to just walk out on the street and chill and talk to strangers like that. It's just not possible here! When we first returned and the house was empty I was feeling really lonely and strange so I took a walk to Castle Towers to pass the time. I succeeded only in making myself feel worse, if anything. Firstly, nobody walks anywhere, so I was stared and once honked at. Then, as it was the end of school holidays, Castle Towers was filled with skanky self-important fourteen/fifteen year olds acting like absolute idiots. The falafel I bought was so damn tasteless that I chucked it. And caught the bus home.
Anyway, back to Chennai. Sooo... my aunt mentioned to us the month-long Mylapore Festival, where, after a series of foiled attempts, she insisted we'd be able to catch a bharatanatyam performance. We just casually wandered in at around 5:30 in the evening and Mylapore was packed (even more) with people. It was amazing. The atmosphere was electric! There were stalls along the sidewalk and pretty lights hanging all around the streets. In front of the awesome Kapaleeshwar Temple (which dates back to at least the 7th century) they'd set up an open-air stage for classical dances. We also went to a Hindustani music concert which was divine. The streets had been closed off for a kolam (like rangoli) competition: rows and rows of intricate, beautiful white patterns lined the roads. There were men wandering around (this part warms the cockles of my heart) handing out free cloth bags to people and taking their plastic ones and telling them how it was important for the environment.
Of course, there are frustrations too. I found out why Chennai was so trashed this time; the local government fought and ended a contract with one company for rubbish collection, but it was taking its owwwwn sweeeeet time to sign on another. Describing how inconveniencing it was, some relatives (not likely to read :p) also mentioned the "irritating ragpickers" that they attracted "adding to the eyesore"! I was speechless for a few moments at their insensitivity. So their problem with the existence of dismally poor people in their area is that they're... ugly?
If I asked a man on the street to describe India they'd probably talk about something very Slumdog Millionaire-esque, maybe throw some Taj Mahal in. The fact is, however, that there is no one homogenous India. It's a phrase oft-repeated that "there are many Indias in India". If it's true that there are many poor people, it is also true that three of the top ten richest in the world are Indian. If it's true that some women are suppressed, it's also true that a large proportion of the highest posts are held by women, a fact which does not hold true in the West. There is immense cultural, ethnic diversity between each state.
You can't say that any one of these pictures is any more "relevant" to India than the other. They are all as real and pervasive as the other, and they each exist in their own bubble. This is the problem.
Most of my upper middle-class relatives that self-importantly proffer their opinions completely disregard the existence of rural India, or even of the urban poor that clean their houses, iron their clothes and drive them to work. "This country's going to the dogs if they don't invest more in communications..." blah blah. Any mention of the underprivileged is mostly to make a jibe: "These damned Biharis coming in...". I wanted to scream out, OMG PEOPLE DON'T HAVE FOOD AND WATER AND YOU'RE ANNOYED THEY AREN'T IMPROVING YOUR INTERNET CONNECTION!? (which isn't that bad imo) or other bourgeois facilities basically aimed at attracting/maintaining interest from multinational rapist corporations (wow I sound so Marxist... but it's true). A big favourite is criticising the "bastard politicians" that don't have their own brilliant foresight in these matters. I'm sorry to say, even my parents are guilty of all the above- especially dad. He was arguing the same to one of his cousins, who sat quietly and listened for a bit... then totally smashed him down! He highlighted that there's so much more that needs to be done, that the rural poor need security. I stared wide-eyed with delight as finally somebody spoke some sense... my new favourite relative ;)
But then speaking of education, I think the Indian understanding of it is mainly as a form of vocational training, over all its loftier purposes. That's bad. And on a side note, I am also a little confused how useful it really is when a barely literate taxi driver can speak on local and international affairs with so much acuteness and be so rational and balanced, other people in a land blessed with first-rate institutions can actually believe that a carbon tax will remove all the CO2 in the air and kill us (No. I will never let that go...)
That said, I am grateful to come back to Australia for one reason: my friends :) We meet two or three times a week and if anything's guaranteed to put a smile on my face for a while, it's them.*hugs*
* Reeeaaally off tangent- but apparently the song is hot property in nightclubs and discos throughout... Japan, of all the places! So much so that visiting PM Yoshihiko Noda had Dhanush (the writer, singer) as a special guest at formal dinner with PM Singh.LOL
