Things that baffle me about India and possible explanations

1. Why everybody yells at you all the time – at airports, in hotels, on the street, in temples: they’re underpaid, overworked, not getting laid often enough, think you have something they want or that you’re trying to gyp them by failing to read a sign correctly

2. How even the skinniest driver/porter can lug your massive 25 kg bag up and down stairs and in and out cars/trucks/vans and not think it’s heavy: large quantities of ghee in diet

3. Why they levy a ‘luxury tax’ on your hotel stay when the paint is peeling, the shower doesn’t work, there is no heat or air, the sheets are damp, the towels are dirty and the curtains are dusty: they’re so poor that having four walls, a ceiling (albeit cracked) and a floor is considered luxury

4. Why they think it’s bizarre to find a woman travelling alone managing her own affairs: Indian wimmen are prolly only good at bargaining at shops and do not possess the brain power to actually live life or be useful at things that matter. It should be noted that I am crap at bargaining at shops, a swap I’m willing to pay extra for.

5. Why nobody has a sense of personal space: see #1 above

6. How anyone can wear Punjabi juttis: their feet have been hobbitized after years of conforming to Punjabi juttis

7. Why the entire country smells like a latrine even though there are no cows on the streets anymore: men will poop and pee anywhere. They will also, at every given opportunity grab their genitals – at airports, in hotels, on the street and in temples.

8. Why people are either too loud or too soft: loud when they’re yelling at you (see #1) or talking on the phone while pushed up against you (see #5) and soft when they’re asking you important immigration questions (see #4)

9. Why everybody on the road honks for everybody else to give way: Indian drivers have an unnatural sense of entitlement combined with absolutely no civic sense

10. Why Indian people have no civic sense, even in the holy town where the religion is based on community and goodwill toward man: see #14 below

11. Why hotels in Amritsar are obsessed with 80s English pop music: it’s still the 80s in Amritsar

12. Why it takes an Air India office manager two hours to unsuccessfully issue you a ticket when you can do it yourself in 10 minutes online: Air India office managers are all morons. Sweet and kindly. But morons.

13. Why female Air India ticketing agents can never sort out your tickets and check-in without needing help from the manager: see #4 above

14. Why people think that bad behavior is acceptable: I have no explanation for this. It baffles me.

That being said, it’s very cute when little surdi boys run up to you and say “Sat Sri Akal didi, thwade paas chingum haigi?!”

Madamji, aap Monday ko aao. Abh to kuch nahi hoga.

Foolish hopeful heart, trying to get out of India.  Simply cannot be done.  Stuck here.  Till Monday.  Misery.

This is because while the Indian Embassy in New York and the Air India office tell you one thing, the stalwart emigration officers at Amritsar airport tell you another.  With the result that you don't get to leave.  Till Monday.

Then you rant and rave.  They direct you to the Air India booking office back in the city.  Because, you know, the airport does not have a ticketing office.  You start to leave the airport to find a cab to take you there and back in 2 hours (because you smartly decided to get to the airport 3 hours in advance of your flight) but you can't get out.  You have to be escorted out by an airline employee.  Who takes multiple copies of your passport and then after having you wait for 40 minutes, runs off because his shift has ended and he couldn't be arsed.  Consequently, you have missed your flight to Delhi and will possibly not get another one till Monday.

You then demand to speak to the station manager who, a kindly person, finds you someone who will take you out the airport.  Then the nice taxi fellow waits 2 hours while the nice but utterly useless people at the Air India office try to rebook you.  They cannot.  Until Monday.

They order you a chai and a cutlet with brown chutney.  Then one nice man calls the nearest hotel to negotiate a rate for you for a room.  Till Monday.

You get to the hotel cold, wet, lungs teeming with all sorts of germs, tired, broken, hungry, dejected and in pain.  The room is freezing.  They give you a space heater.  You're thirsty.  They give you a bottle of water.  There is no internet.  You head to the lobby to find a signal.  Ironically, airindia.com will let you book a flight out to New York (thereby confirming that people are useless and all Indians should be replaced by the internet).  For Monday.

I suppose the upshot of all this is that I get one more chance to do some shopping for Black Cobra and BIL and see the Temple in the night tomorrow.

I'm going to take my pills and go to bed.  I expect to be back home by Tuesday.  If the wahey guru sees fit.

Auto mein gayi, taxi mein wapas aayi

Moosladhar baarish in Amritsar since predawn. Lots of lightning but strangely no thunder. Electricity in and out. Attempted to go out to find a place to buy things and ended up soaking wet at Alpha One mall. Bad idea. Managed to make it back to the hotel 2 hours later, somehow wetter. Here's a tip, don't take an auto when it's raining.

The television choices, true to being all things India either lewd or pious, are thus:
Religious programming in Punjabi
Religious programming in Hindi
Tamil movies about Devi Maa
Hindi movies about Devi Maa
15 channels of Bollywood music all showing Chikni Chameli in synchronicity
4 channels of cartoons in Hindi or dubbed in Hindi
One shopping channel showcasing blenders that can crush ice
The 59th National Kabbaddi Championships live from Mumbai with young fit men in shiny shorts grabbing each other

I think the choice is obvious.

The wonderful thing about watching Tamil movies is that you don't have to know the language to get it

All heros transcend time. 50 year old uncles can be college students and can squash 20 men and slice a bullet (or a cucumber) with a blade. During every song sequence, the hero will put his hands together for a namaste with a wink. The sidekick will always try his luck with the hottest girl in college and be rejected with multiple slaps. The gang of villains travels in a well-stocked SUV with readily available cycle chains, knives and glass bottles. When it's time for good-guy-bad-guy face-off, the hero will yell "DAI!" and point a finger at the bad man with a frowning brow and eyes all popping out. This is a cue for his shirt buttons to mysteriously open. After eventually emerging victorious, the girl will kiss him chastely on the cheek and fans will blow his his face to have his hair indicate joy.

Also, Rajnikant will never age.

Now I know you're going to like this

I highly recommend you listen to Daaku Daddy. While the song makes me want to throw something heavy at the tele, I'm sure you'll get a kick outta Shakti Kapoor being a Daaku Daddy.

More from the same artiste who is clearly a musical genius:
Chap in bathtub getting his hair washed by girl in tight t-shirt and bindi and I hope to god some pants but you really can't tell. Girl says:
"Aye heep hopper mujhe pyaar to aye heep hopper
Meri pyaar ki duniya mein, meri love ki duniya mein, ek pappi do na sir"

Then the hip hopper goes:
"Kya tu pak rahi hai
Kaise tap rahi hai
Khopdi pak rahi hai
Ruk ruk ruk
Baksheesh bhi diya hai
Bonus bhi diya hai
chahiye tujhko kya hai
Phut phut phut"

Then the girl says something about "tere ghar mein bartan shartan maanjti hu barabar". So, evidently, she's the bai types.

Further confirmed by the Heep Hopper who sings to himself:
"Maybe but she's hot like Rekha..
But she ain't gonna find my favour...
How can I'm a star hip hopper..
She's my bai, just a part time naukar"

Ishq Bector is his name, would you believe.

NetSuck Gala and other things

Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you, I went to the Annual NetSAP Gala thingy at the Omni Parker House. Now the Omni Parker House is supposed to be this wonderful historic place but in the mad rush to get there and endlessly circling around and around the damn place, we forgot to notice. See wot happened was that Em was busy working and didn't finish until late and I was lifting weights and wasn't really that keen on going so we ended up leaving late and then went to his place so he could get into his shiny kurta and got lost a few times and by the time we got there it was past 9 and the comedy show was over. On the bright side, the speeches and prize-givings was also over so it sort of worked out in the end.

There were an inordinate number of shiny women there.

All the smart women were busy dancing in a circle to make conversation (their mustaches were intimidating anyway) and all the twits were too shiny and giggly to make conversation with which meant that Em and Champion spend most of the time stupidly grinning at me. Most of the men were too short and by default don't speak to heavyset wimmen especially when they're busy being ADD-ed with all the shiny women around so while I tried to speak to random chaps and make friends, I spent most of the time glaring at Em and Champion. That combined with the fact that I was driving meant no booze and definitely no fun for Wolfie. Then they all pottered off to some bar and I inisited on going home. Which was a good move on my part because I got a lot of work done. I cleaned up and put the laundry away and ironed clothes and wotnot. Em staggered back home at 3 am and I was all set to take him to Ihop but he looked too grumpy.

The next weekend we then proceeded to have a fight over silly things which led to lots of crying and shouting followed by some sort of psychological breakthrough on my part and swollen eyes the next morning. All in all, a regular day's work.

And now again Thanksgiving is upon us. I shall try not to think about all the work I have to do this weekend and instead get a pedicure (and a manicure), go get fitted for shoe inserts at the doctors', buy new running sneakers, run, meet Shah for dinner and watch Darjeeling Ltd.

The fun is upon us! I can smell it!

Bollywood mash-ups

Of course, there's always this to cheer you up

Mad props.

Oh please lord, make it go away

Advantage Mid-caps

They didn't want to go out when they woke so I popped off to Tamba to get a box full of desi food while they sat at the table gazing out at the dancing fountains all ruffled in their pjs and robes. Of course, that meant that at 3:30 am we were all wide awake. Well they were awake, I was sleepy but that means diddly squat with you're with the Family. So off we went to explore the Blackjack tables (the Baccarat Bar was closed and we bored of Roulette). Did some shopping the day after. Saw the Steve Wyrick magic show where I put a knitting needle through a pane of glass - very exciting. Pops had his picture taken with the magician which I'm pretty sure was the highlight of his trip. Left Vegas on Saturday for NYC.

Sadly Pops has been tired and sleepy most of the day so we haven't done much (other than clean the kitchen, go out to get groceries, make shawarmas for lunch and watch Kal Ho Na Ho three times - once regular, once with the director's commentary and once again in scenes and pieces. I'd have called the Somster but he's in India trying to hide the fact that he's screamingly gay and living with a man (hai! hai!) in Manhattan. I told him he could marry me and that would take care of both our problems but he is skeptical.

Maybe I'll call the Tran-o-tron and go visit her cats. Or maybe I'll go back to the couch and watch the poker tournament with Pops. I could clean Black Cobra's sty but I'm afraid of wot I'll find under piles of things. Poker is best, methinks.

Lord I need to get back to work. I'm tired of vacationing and I've got more than an entire month left. Ugh, ennui.

Back to Boston on Wednesday with a stop in New Haven.

Shameless groupies

Listen all you hussies. Stop spamming me with Abhiwarya wedding pictures. Three separate individuals have sent me massive email attachments in the last 3 hours alone.

But you would think she would look a little happier at her own wedding and he would deign to shave.

Maybe it was all that excitement with black cat commandos. Dude! I want black cat commandos at my wedding! Screw that, I want them to bodyguard me in general. Hey, I could be very important one day.

"Adopt. You will receive more than you can ever give."

For the Indian Association for Promotion of Adoption and Child Welfare from the brillant people at Ogilvy.

Don't worry, I'm fine

I'm just... I don't know. Unsettled. That's all. I didn't sleep much and my head hurts and I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. I missed sailing class today but seeing as the Nor'eastern is still upon us, I don't think anybody went out on the river this morning. I may have missed my rigging test but I'm sure I can take that another time. This weekend maybe, when the sun is out and the winds aren't 17 mph.

I did get out of bed eventually. I'm showered and dressed now and looking quite nice in a pair of lovely brown pants with a lovely (but slightly itchy) red sweater and homemade earrings and me brown boots. I have a presentation to give for my Branding class and after that I shall go wander around Downtown Crossing to cheer myself up. After that I get to speak to a bunch of prospective BU MBA students to tell them how wonderful this place is and how they should definitely pick us over the competition. Considering that the competition is usually BC or Babson it's not too hard to convince them (oh no she didn't!).

I did speak to a lovely man named Keith from Macy's outsourced call center who was in New Delhi and I wanted to tell him about Boston and the weather and that I used to go to that Wimpy's near Jangpura Extension and troll the used book stalls on the footpath and that I have a friend who's office is on Barakhamba Road and that my Pa is from Delhi and I watched that outsourcing video and did he hear about the shootings in Virginia and how hard it can be sometimes for brown kids here and that I'm lonely and homesick and want to cry every time I think about being lonely and homesick and that he didn't have to put on an American accent for me because I would understand if he spoke like he normally does and tell him that I really desperately want to travel because sometimes I think that if I lose myself in a crowd of strange people speaking in strange tongues where I don't understand the signs then maybe I'll find myself and ask him questions about his life and his challenges and that I still don't know so many things that I wish I did and it's funny how some days you feel like you're the bees knees and some days you feel so utterly inadequate and if he ever bought anything from Macy's and if maybe they get a discount or something and tell him about all the things that make me want to scream and rant and cry and lots of other meaningless important things but I kinda got the feeling that he wasn't the chatty kind.

Besides, I'm pretty sure Macy's doesn't pay him THAT much.

I'm going to school now.

वाह!

Dude! Blogger goes desi! They even have word correction!

I am so buying stock in Google.

Of course now i can't think of anything to say in हिन्दी.

Your mission

should you choose to accept it, is to rent this movie and watch it.



Oh come on, you know you want to!

Josh naal pau bhangra

So on Friday last we (Dixon, D'va, Rani and meself) went to Basant Mela 2007, a grand production put together by the Paki Students of BU at Metcalf Hall. The acoustics in that place are horrible by the way. Lots of pretty little (and I do mean little) undergrad desi girls running around in impossibly high heels and mesmerizing salwar kameezes. Lady in the pink hypnotizing number, can I just say this one thing, WEAR A BRA! You're not 10 and this is not the playground, when you walk, you jiggle, and not in a good way either. After an entire hour of sound checks (the show started 90 minutes late), the BU Bhangra team came up and strutted their stuff. I have to say they were pretty damn good. All those youngsters leaping about with zest and vim. Even the one Chinese chick. Made my heart warm up to the snot-nosed freaks. Good job BU Bhangra. I'd dance with you any day.

Then Josh came on. That was nice. They sang a few songs. There were some technical difficulties (yes, even after the one hour sound check) but they were nice about it. All in all, a good time was had.

Then Rani, in a fit of utter madness, decided to accost the DJ backstage to invite the Josh boys out for a drink. Crazy idea, you say. Won't ever happen, you say. They're not going to go out for drinks with you, you say. Well, next thing I knew we were in a cab speeding over to Rumor to get our pretty lil' fannies into the VIP area to party it up with the Josh boys. Yes, that's right. You heard me. We partied with Josh. Resh, I can almost hear your groaning.


So anyway, the evening wasn't as magical as we thought it would be - and not because of the gorgeous bouncers (yo, Jimmy-boy, call me sometime) or the very nice Boston Police Officer we had the good fortune to meet (Kevin, how's it goin', where can I get a hat like that?!). It started with Josh (Rup, Q and DJ Pavan) having trouble getting into the club. They were standing in line. It was funny. Rani and I had to get them into the place. Then apparently their promoter was too busy doing the lambada with some chickie-poos so their champagne was not sorted so Rani (bless her) fought her way to the bar to get us drinks. She was pretty pipped about buying Josh drinks. An hour of pretty insipid conversation later (Pavan was spastic, Q was snotty but Rup was such a darling) and its closing time. So we troop our sassy asses out onto the street and yours truly spends the next 40 minutes hailing cabs and letting them go. One after the other. I would hail them because Pavan would decided to leave. Then I had to let them go because Pavan would decide not to leave. It was so VERY annoying. Rani finally got fed up and went home. I was told to hang around and then promptly ignored at which point, I went home. But before I got into that cab, Rup came up to me and gave me a very nice hug. That made it all better.

Here's the kicker - DJ P decides to message me at 3:30 am wanting to know where the party was at. Correct me if I'm mistaken, boy, but aren't YOU supposed to be the party?

Lame. Very lame.

Thank you Rani for a wonderfully groupie evening. I did have fun. You rock, babe. So do you, Rup. I'd farh kay your baah anytime ;)

Sade naal pau bhangra.. nach le o mitra..

Chiranjeevi at his best

I swear you are going to keel over laughing.