marriage, touches and bumps

India is a marriage-minded culture, with a great many people getting married in their early twenties. Sometimes the bride and groom pick each other, sometimes it’s arranged by the parents. Last month, a male co-worker of mine in his early thirties (and still unmarried – gasp!) wanted to take a few weeks off because he was getting married. He was asked who the bride was, to which he responded he didn’t know yet. He had to find one. But he did indeed find someone in time and he did indeed get married – just like that.

That’s not that atypical either. A few weeks ago, I read a story in the local newspaper (The Deccan Herald, of course) about a woman on her wedding day. Just as the ceremony was about to commence, it was revealed that the groom was already married to another woman. The horrors! The bride was understandably disappointed. But another young man present said he would step in and marry her instead. And she said yes. So they got married.

The personal ads (which I assure you I peruse only out of curiosity) have headings like “man seeking bride” and are separated by religion. And some ads note that they are open-minded -- they’ll accept a mate from any religion, from any caste background. How very modern.

Despite the cultural obsession with coupling people off at an early age, it’s unusual to see a man and a woman holding hands. Public displays of affection are frowned upon, especially by “old school Indians” (that’s a technical term). And apparently this extends to a man and woman holding hands, because I’ve almost never seen it. And forget about seeing a man and a woman kissing in public. Perish the thought.

Yet it’s socially acceptable for men to hold hands with other men and women to hold hands with other women. The Indian people are very touchy feely when relating to their own gender. Friends will hold hands while walking down the street or sit with their with arms around each other in a bar. But a man and a woman doing this? Never. Or, well, almost never.

Maybe I’m just overly slovenly, but Indian men have much better grooming habits than me. Many times when I enter a public bathroom, I’ll see a young Indian guy looking in the mirror, brushing his hair. I’ll use the facilities, wash my hands and be ready to step out – and the same guy will still be brushing his hair. This sort of thing takes time to do right…apparently. And I’m not even going to get into the art of the finely trimmed mustache.

And then there are bumps. What are bumps, you ask? Bumps are when a young Indian man is picked up by his arms and legs with his back to the ground. Once this is spotted, many more young Indian men will rush over and proceed to kick him repeatedly. Occasionally one person will start from a few yards (err, meters) away, so he can get a running start and more power in his kick.

I’ve only seen bumps given at the workplace, but I’d imagine they extend to other situations as well. Bumps are given to young Indian men on their birthdays or any other special occasions. But they’re not just for special occasions. It’s always a good time to give bumps. Bumps begat laughter and merriment for all. I’m just glad that when my birthday rolls around, I’ll be back in the states.

I'm not making rice anymore

Many of my microwaveable dinners go well with rice. So a couple months ago, I bought a big bag of rice. Never got around to making it until just now. So I measured the rice, measured the water and put it all in the pot. I saw a few little black things floating around. Stale rice or something? Nope, little bugs. Little dead bugs. I'm not making rice anymore.

E v. I

At this time nine years ago, I was living on Cricklewood Lane in North London, taking college theatre classes and embracing the pound coin. Ever since that most excellent semester, I’ve been fiending to travel again, to live in a foreign place. That foreign place ended up being Bangalore, India. Can’t say I saw that one coming.

Since I’m halfway through my time here, I decided to tally up some of the differences between my two international jaunts. England versus India. E v. I.
(there are differences between England and India? Who knew?)

Stated reason for going
England: school
India: work

Actual reason for going
England: travel
India: travel

Time living abroad
England: 5 months (Winter/Spring ‘98)
India: 6 months (Winter/Spring ’06-’07)

My age
England: 20
India: 29

My maturity level
England: low
India: low

My hair
England: long and blonde
India: short and blonde and slightly graying

My weight
England: gained
India: lost

Will return to
England: New York
India: Los Angeles

Left behind
England: girlfriend
India: girlfriend, cat

Daily transportation
England: bus, tube (subway), my feet
India: car with driver, my feet

Roads
England: mostly good
India: mostly bad

Street animals
England: pigeons
India: cows

Street people
England: won’t bother you much
India: will follow and tap you

Currency
England: pound
India: rupee

Cost of living
England: expensive
India: cheap

My money
England: student = broke = max out the credit cards
India: job = regular income + tax-free per diem

My debt
England: build it up
India: pay it down

Home base
England: gated dorm in Irish ghetto
India: gated service apartment (like a hotel) in decent neighborhood

Living quarters
England: a narrow shoebox, I live like a slob
India: roomy studio, cleaning staff cleans and makes my bed

Kitchen
England: share with 30 Irish nursing students
India: all mine, stocked mini-bar

Bathroom
England: share with three others
India: all mine, they change the towels daily

Phone
England: share with 30 Irish nursing students
India: Skype on my laptop, cell in my pocket

Laundry
England: shlep my clothes to basement to wash them
India: cleaning staff does the laundry (and folds!)

In-home entertainment
England: CD player/radio
India: high speed internet with spotty connection, satellite TV (¾ of stations only play Hindi music videos)

Fun weekend trip
England: farmhouse in Wales with my comedy class. Play comedy games, sleep in a barn. Everyone gets drunk, then performs stand-up comedy
India: Jungle resort in Wayanad. Hike in the jungle, relax in a hammock, bathe elephants in a lake on the way back.

Other weekend trips
England: Amsterdam, Edinburgh
India: Mysore, Ooty

Fun local slang
England: “cheers” (thanks)
India: “do the needful” (do what is necessary)

Civil disobedience spotted
England: Marijuana legalization rally
India: Looting overturned soda truck, state-wide strike

Logging supplies
England: notebooks, sketchbook, art supplies, film camera
India: notebooks, laptop, digital camera, digital camcorder

Typical meal
England: beans on toast
India: chicken biryani (chicken and rice)

Typical local weekend
England: see West End musical
India: Champagne brunch

Local pub
England: low key and mellow, shoot pool
India: crowded and loud, have to say “what?” a lot

Beer enjoyed
England: Grolsch
India: Kingfisher

Can’t drink
England: in bars after 11pm
India: the water

good day for a bundh

I didn't mean to sleep until 4:30 in the afternoon. But seeing a late movie last night combined with my regular vampire work hours prevented me from awakening when my alarm clock went off at 11am.

I wanted to be awake today because there was a bundh scheduled, a strike. Apparently, for the last hundred years, there has been fighting between the states of Karnataka (which includes Bangalore) and Tamil Nadu over how much water each would receive from the Cauvery River. Last Monday, the government decided that Tamil Nadu should get much more of the water. Predictably, Karnataka was not pleased. They scheduled a bundh for today from 6am to 6pm, a shutdown of pretty much all services, shops and such. From what I read in the paper, they do this fairly often. Last time was in October.

When a similar decision regarding the river was made fifteen years ago, there were riots and fires and stone throwing and deaths. This year, rowdies were locked up beforehand and policeman filled the streets. Businesses and taxis hung Karnataka flags to let people know they supported the cause, and therefore should not be hassled. The upscale Forum mall was covered with a huge safety net to prevent flying rocks from smashing its windows. TV stations from Tamil Nadu were blocked and their films were no longer shown. I'm not sure how not showing Tamil Nadu films in Bangalore would help bring more water, but then, nobody asked me.

Everyone said to stay indoors, that it could get dangelous outside. But it ended up being a whole lot of nothing. After arising from my into-the-afternoon slumber, I turned on the TV to find out what was going on. Turned out, not very much. The bundh wasn't even the main story on the news channels. After all, there were important happenings in the world of cricket. This was in stark contrast to last Monday, when the water decision first came down. On that day, when I was also told to not go to work, the news stations ran non-stop Cauvery coverage with sensationalistic headlines superimposed over video of fast flowing water: "River of Heartache," "Wet Outrage," "Trouble Waters." The lack of substantial news coverage today was surprising.

I left my apartment at six, not because I was waiting for the bundh to end, but because I was just lazy in getting ready. There wasn't much to see outside. A bunch of closed shops, guards chatting with each other, Karnataka flags. As I walked to Brigade Road (the local shopping area) there was an eerie calm vibe, but only a bit.

I know riots are terrible and dangerous, that people get hurt or even killed. And I know that an out-of-towner like myself probably shouldn't be close enough to witness such a thing, that I'd likely even be a target. But at the same time, it would be kind of cool to see a riot. Simply because I've never seen one before. I have to admit I was a little disappointed.

Free Soda!