Thursday, July 31, 2008

religious fanaticism

After the Bangalore and Ahmedabad serial bombings of last week, another has exploded in Jharkhand, and more and more unexploded bombs continue to be found in the world's diamond cutting capital, Surat, near Bombay. The count is currently at 23. Rajasthan and Calcutta have received their own bomb threats, while a bomb plot was recently foiled right here in Chennai, where the bombings were set for August 15, 2008; Indian Independence Day, and my own scheduled day of departure. Most signs and claims are pointing to the groups "Indian Mujahideen" and "Harkat-ul-Jihad-al-Islami". While it is important to know the context these bombings come in (Hindu persecution of Muslims followers has been more than most know; many have been slaughtered in mass riots in the last few decades while police looked the other way), this is a rash of what little would argue is extremist religious zealotry, of which I wrote on many weeks ago but did not post on here... now seems like quite an appropriate time to resurrect the subject:


CNN India and NDTV has been reporting the Taliban's resurgence in Pakistan recently, and their razing of movie houses and barber shops. Wait... not killing the Americans or demanding burqas, but bombing barber shops?! Then, hours later, I was reading Shashi Tharoor's "India: From Midnight to the Millenium and Beyond", where I learned of "expatriate Sikhs pouring money, weapons, and organizational skills into the cause of a 'pure' (tobacco-free and barber-less) 'Khalistan'." OK, what's going on here. I've heard of money prostitution, alcohol, drugs, and homosexuality having their opponents. Now barbers? Hair is more sacrosanct than freedom and life? I hope repayment of student loans is found to be an abomination in His eyes soon as well so I can dismiss that whole Cornell inconvenience.

(By the way, in case you don't know of the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre or Operation Bluestar, Sikhs have just as good a reason as Jews (continued persecution) to have a nationalist faction and deserve land, just as many other social groups in the world. I'm just saying I've seen better mission statements in my day!)

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I was checking my e-mail after writing this post, and lo and behold, none other than this article was posted on front page news... how timely. Here's an excerpt:


"Lahore, July 31 (ANI): The Pakistan unit of the Taliban - the Tehreek-e-Islami Taliban Pakistan (TIP) has reportedly threatened the owners of CD shops, Internet cafes and cable service providers to close down their activities, and warned the women to wear 'hijab' to ensure safety, else their face would be disfigured by acid."

Loose morals, Westerners, foreign intervention, I get it, I'll give you that one. But CD shops, internet cafes, hair, women's faces? Come on guys. You're stretching it. Chill out.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Temples of Mamallapuram

As the town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, I figured I may as well take photos of the actual monuments... far less interesting than the people and wildlife though.


Arjuna's Penance

Cave temple


Krishna's Butterball (doesn't move... I would know)


Varaha caves


Shore Temple

Monkeys of Mamallapuram

Very cheeky temple-monkeys.


A popsicle, snatched out of the hands of unsuspecting passersby


He opened this himself after scaring a female tourist into dropping it by baring his teeth


A slap on the wrist


Mmmm... head-lice



Orphans of Mamallapuram

... some pleaded "chocolate" afterwards, some, "biscuit"... but always "more foto!"








Indonomics II

Also interesting is what appears to be a rickshaw drivers union, run by the Communist Party here. I spent weeks trying to figure out why the kiosk where all the drivers hang out at the end of my street had a red sickle and hammer and communist paraphernalia all around, and every time I went down there I never connected the dots until I learned through my internship how unions form in India- through political parties, and rarely (although becoming more frequent) through unaffiliated means. I will write more about this later, in relation to my work experience here, but the interesting economic aspect of this is that, as with all rickshaw rides, you want to avoid these guys like the plague (they're easily identified- they have the hammer-and-sickle pinned on their chest), as any driver that is parked, or near any others, will raise his price because he isn't already on his way there or the multiple others can gang up on you and price-collude. This is evident in a recent experience I had, trying to get to Guindy (near the airport), which should cost 70-100 rupees. "250 rupees, sah," I was quoted, with heads nodding all around. Interesting, I thought, and walked down the street to catch a guy already headed my way who started the bargaining at 100. On an unrelated but similarly discouraging note, the only time (and last time) I hired a guy from this stand was with the other American living in my house. When we finished bargaining with the driver, he produced a liter of vodka from his shirt, took a finishing swig, tossed it in the bushes, and motioned for us to sit down so we could get going. Safety first!

Anyway, last economic note. Essential goods are incredibly cheap here, mostly due to being grown locally or heavy government subsidization, such as with agricultural products and transportation. Rickshaws, trains, and buses are dirt cheap, as is most vegetarian Indian food, the fare at almost any "hotel" (codeword for "restaurant" here) or "dhaba" (roadside eatery). However, air travel is comparable to any Western nation, and car rental is about the same. Beer and Western restaurant fare are only slightly cheaper than in the U.S. (but comparably to alternatives, very expensive) and my digital camera actually cost more in USD than if I had bought it in the states. So in summary, anything that the average person uses or could be considered "essential" is amazingly cheap, whereas any luxury item or service that has a lesser-priced alternative ranges from relatively much higher (but not too bad) to almost absolutely higher.

(interestingly, movie tickets tend to be "essential" as well, flying in just under $2 at a big Regal Cinema-esque multiplex. Like Ganesh and the Ganges, what would India be without Bollywood?)

Monday, July 28, 2008

Indonomics

This entry's for you, Vinny: South Asian economics. First, bargaining. Regarding items on the street, there are no fixed prices. If it's not in a store, there is no "price." The more they want to get rid of it, and the less buyers they have, the cheaper it is. That should seem simple enough. But on my vacation this weekend, I learned a few other bargaining concepts.
Souvenir salesmen seem to view sales periods in days, not quarters. I came across two stalls whose objects I was not too interested in (another very important part of bargaining for items here- never show interest or you'll never get a good price) and I was dogged by the shopkeepers as I walked by, who quoted a price for a similar object that they kept lowering, and lowering.. until it was half the original price. I asked, after purchasing the item, what it was that made them lower so drastically, and was told that because they hadn't had a single sale today due to low tourist traffic, they needed to make just one sale by closing time. On a similar note, shops close at dusk, and the closer to dusk it is, the closer to the end of that "sales day" window you are, and the more hurried they are to make a sale.

Bargaining with rickshaw drivers is entirely different. Especially Tamil ones. I am told in the other cities there are meters, but Chennai remains its crazy, haggle-and-argue self, with meters that are entirely un-trustable, usually are broken, and whose rates are not posted anywhere. So you always need to bargain over the fixed cost of the trip. Before I go anywhere I ask a local what the price to a location is for them, add 15-20% to their answer (the "white man's tax"), and make that my target price. I started out playing the game; for a trip that costs 55 rupees to a local (my house to my workplace), I round to 70, make that my target, and then hail a rickshaw and let the arguing and flailing limbs and exaggerated expressions begin. However, I found that I quickly got tired of playing the game of underbidding and listening to their outrageous counter-bids, even though I know that's how the game works... sorry ILR, I know you would be ashamed of me. I just find the whole thing so disingenuous and unnecessary. So now I always start with my actual target, which I refuse to go above, listen to their outrageous counter-proposal, and then when they refuse, instead of arguing, gesturing wildly, or re-offering, I shrug and give them a smile and walk down the street to catch the next one (they're as numerous as cabs in NYC). Boulwarism, baby! When they see I am not bluffing and could not care less who brings me to my destination, they run out and bring me back to the bargaining table, offering lower and lower prices until arriving at my originally quoted price or put-putting away (which starts like this, simultaneously: muttering in Tamil, frowning, Tamil-head-bobbling [a figure-eight shake], throwing their hand from their chest outwards and upwards).
If you are, at this point, feeling bad for the rickshaw driver, read on, dear reader, read on. The joke is on the rider, not the driver. They have ways to get you back, and will! First, factors that drastically increase the "actual price" (the best price you are going to get): darkness, rain, heavy traffic, and scarcity of drivers. Whenever any of these circumstances exist, they jack up their prices quite unreasonably. And, of course, they always have ways to get back at you for bargaining them too low; lately I find I keep getting brought to petrol stations (they never seem to have gas... how odd!) just as we disembark, and then asked for the money up front. First, I said no, because I smelled a tourist scam. They could drop me off before my destination and then yell in Tamil and motion me to get out (happened to me multiple times actually... so I was right). Then, I changed my tune when a co-worker explained to me that they live day-to-day and literally do not have the cash to pay for the petrol, so sometimes they actually DO need the fare up front. True to my suspicion, I was taken advantage of after heeding his advice; after paying (and therefore handing over all my power) I was brought way out of the way to what appeared to be the driver's home, and was told to wait while he ran inside. But it was not over- he then pulled over on the way back to ask where the place was I was going (they'll see "yes, yes" when asked if they know where ____ is, to get your fare, but then pull over multiple times to ask for directions later... "making that sale" is all that counts!) at which point the person he spoke to indicated that I should pay him a higher than negotiated fare because we were so far away and petrol prices were rising so fast. This was the only time I really lost it with a rickshaw driver. We ended up getting to my work 35 minutes late, had driven to the northern reaches of Chennai, and I was being asked to subsidize his own personal errands?!? After re-telling the story to my coworkers, I was told unanimously that Chennai is notorious for exceedingly cheeky rickshaw drivers, and even locals get cheated constantly. Of course... that makes the trips into adventures, no?
It's interesting to think of the two fare systems- fixed price and metered (I'll ignore the tip factor that would also normally influence behavior, as you don't tip rickshaw drivers here, whereas in America that adds an incentive for drivers to be nice/not screw you over/drive sanely). As long as you keep your money 'til the end of the trip and don't give in to the petrol-station maneuver, you really have all the leverage, and therefore they are induced to get you there as quickly and efficiently as possible so as to get another fare (and so as to have you pay the full negotiated price), whereas the meter system can be manipulated in two ways- they can either take you on a route that takes more time or mileage, increasing your fare, or sneakily change the rate to a night rate. So really, while many Chennaites (?) complain of their rickshaw drivers' schemes and temperament, and I, the foreigner, must pay higher fares by default, I think it's probably better than the metered system. The differential foreigners must pay is not much (we're talking $0.50) and the potential for trickery is totally constricted, if you know where you're going (just ask a local the price). But boy is it a hell of a ride.

Anyway, on to economics. An intriguing principle here is a seeming lack of economy of scale in retail products. In the US, you can get groceries for really cheap at a mega-mart, more expensive at the local grocery store, or at an outrageous price at a mini-mart (we're speaking price-per-unit, not overall cost, as mini-marts sell mini-things). You can get some juice for $2.00/half-gallon, or $3.00/gallon (25% cheaper per-gallon), etc... buy more, pay less per unit. Here, in at least the grocery stores I have perused, the price per unit of most items is the same regardless of size! In one case, cookies (sorry... "biscuits") cost more per unit for the bigger package. So instead I bought more of the little ones and got more variety.... I guess either they haven't caught on to the concept or I missed something really elementary in Econ 001 at UCSC (which is most likely the case... I didn't do too well that first semester). The same economy-not-of-scale seems to be with items on the street as well. I get cheaper prices at the local level which I would normally assume is being bought at those stores and then resold at places convenient for the consumer for a higher price. The only idea I have is that they are not buying from the stores, but are the ones actually supplying the stores... even though its usually a one-man and one-ox-with-a-cart operation, which would be quite impossible to cart in from the surrounding farmland.
Lastly, on a far less socially interesting scale but high on the annoyance factor, is that my ATM card doesn't work on Indian ATM machines. ICICI bank, State Bank of India, State Bank of _____ (insert any town, which there are many of!). None of them work. You have to have a card that has a partnership with an Indian Bank in order to do that. Thankfully, any European-based bank does not discriminate. CitiBank is the only one with a presence here, with a Deutsche Bank and HSBC thrown in for good measure somewhere around here, albeit as locatable as Waldo. Add to it that American credit cards are no good for buying rail tickets (government-run entity... not a surprise), and that you can't use certain Indian airfare sites without an Indian credit card, and that tourist sites all cost 10 rupees for Indians, 250 for foreigners, and you start to not feel so special with that American ID, credit or ATM card in your or wallet!

Phew... all that... if it wasn't for the fact that you get over 42 rupees to the dollar... I'd be sunk! In the meantime, I'm enjoying tipping 30% (rarely more than $1.50... the expected tip rate is 10%, if anything) at restaurants and feeling like a rock star. Back to NYC soon, where a 15% is met with disgusted glances and will break your bank... sigh. The Astoria Michaelangelo's II large cheese pizza will make up for it, though, so Vinny, order now, I want it at the baggage claim.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

more bomb blasts

Getting back from my vacation this weekend, I hear there were more severe bombings in Ahmedabad just after I left, near Bombay, and then just now, an Istanbul bombing (linked? no clue). India, and Chennai, is now on "high alert," which I first learned through typical Indian social channels: SMSs (cell phone texts) and Bollywood (trying to buy movie tickets). I wanted to see a movie tomorrow, but knew tickets were sold out days in advance, so I texted a friend here to see if he had them... he replied that you don't even need to pre-order tickets this week, all movies are available, apparently because the police are ordering people to stay out of public meeting places in the city.

In a semi-related note, the police are really beefing up their presence, as I noted on my bus ride to work this morning, during which I witnessed several bus-riders next to me hanging out of the doorway get beaten by policemen with long canes as punishment for breaking the normally unenforced rule. I managed to avoid the swift kneecappings being delivered to the people next to me by untactfully shoving my way to the back of the bus, but I hope the police's search for bombers diverts to weapons suppliers, secret meeting places and e-mail records soon, and away from businessmen holding on to bus railings on their way to work.

OK, now this is getting a little too close to home- just found this as I was signing off. I think I'll be watching awesome early-90s B-movie reruns on cable TV for the next few weeks in my room, and cutting down on the public transportation/cinemas.

Friday, July 25, 2008

taking a hint...

...from the most recent news reports and canceling my Bangalore vacation plans for next weekend.

where I work

view from the office: Bay of Bengal, Chennai seaport, Chennai Beach railway station, and the coastal road below

the Indo-Saracenic-styled Madras High Court, from our rooftop. random fact: it was bombarded in 1914 by German warships in the Bay of Bengal during the outbreak of World War I. what interests did Germany have in the Indian Ocean in 1914?!


roadside bazaars, from our rooftop


roadside fruit vendors

mythical sea-cows of the Bay of Bengal. alright, so this has absolutely nothing to do with my workplace... but I took it on the same day, so, too bad

Thursday, July 24, 2008

hair-pulling Indian cell phone service

Among the many things that continue to confound me here, one of the most constant has been the cellular phone service. Let's begin with my purchase of a pre-paid plan and a cheap temporary cell phone. I went to the local equivalent of Radio Shack, "Subhiksha." There, I purchased the cheapest possible, bare-bones phone, a Nokia with Vodafone service (most phones purchased here are Nokia, as iPhones, LGs and Motorolas seem to have completely missed out on this market). After waiting around for half an hour in a mostly-empty store, I noticed that you have to assert yourself and demand service as opposed to waiting for eager customer service representative to come rushing to your assistance as you would have in a Verizon store of the same (OK, this doesn't relate to my cell phone confusion, just my trouble getting used to Indian consumer etiquette in general). After explaining my specifications, I am told that this transaction is not possible to complete. Why? I must fill out the application sheet, which is not complete without a passport photo. What?! I tell him I have a photocopy of my passport. No, that is not good enough. You must staple a passport-sized profile photo of yourself on to the front. "And you need to know what I look like for purchasing a phone and service from you, because....?" "You need it." "So, facial recognition is needed in order to....?" "Must get photo." Ahh... that makes sense. NOW I see things your way!
So, after that debacle, and learning that when you recharge pre-paid minutes with 500 rupees and get 410 rupees, you shouldn't get upset (because that's just a "service charge" that they forget to mention when you ask to purchase 500 rupees-worth), I have since been plagued with SMS-spam (texts are called SMSs here) not from outside agencies, but from Vodafone themselves!!! Totally shamelessly, and without an option to opt-out or block them, I'll receive 3-6 spams a day from them, with some days being worse than others. However, I wish to share my two favorites with you, received recently (completely unabridged!)
Romance@
Dial *123*85# to make your love interesting. Get daily quotes, grooming
tips, love compatibility tests. Chrgs Rs30.month.
Vodafone message centre +91988600542
Sent 5-July-2008
I KNEW there was something I wasn't doing! All I had to do was pick up a phone. And my absolute favorite, received this morning:
Pope Alerts
Make a holy beginning everyday. Dial *123*111# to get daily alerts on
teachings from the Pope. Charges Rs30/month.
Sender: Pope Alerts.
Vodafone message centre +919886005452
Sent 25-July-2008
I also send texts often (because seemingly no one here checks nor has voicemail, I have ascertained after a thoroughly unscientific poll of coworkers, my host, and Indian friends) and about 25% of them are never received by the recipients. I brought it back to Subhiksha. The answer? Turn the phone off, then on. If it doesn't work, do it lots of times. That sure gives me assurance. Sort of like my similarly acting camera and its instant-battery-draining-abilities. Losing faith in Indian-assembled electronics...

Ah, for christ's (wait... Ratzinger's) sake. I miss my crummy old LG.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

marketplaces

My dessert eating habits have changed from cookies, ice cream, cake, pie, etc. in America, to fresh tropical fruits here. The produce store down the street always has interesting looking items and thankfully mangoes are in season during the summer. Additionally, papayas, coconuts, pomegranates, mini-bananas (very sweet), lychees and mangosteen are all available- and never for more than 20-30 cents each. I tried opening a coconut myself, and, one hour later, I had finally gotten through the husk, cracked open the shell (after uselessly hacking at it with a stone machete, I just smashed it against a stone bench)... and then spent another hour trying to dig out the nutmeat with what silverware I could scrounge up. Lesson learned: pay the roadside vendors with the giant machetes a few extra cents and have them do it for you. But its the journey, not the destination, right? Anyway, whilst I am busy avoiding the local badly imitated western desserts (ice cream = frozen bland foam, cake = NYC chinatown cheesecake imitations... Vinny and Josh, you know what I'm talking about) I am enjoying the excellent local produce before my return home in a few weeks...



Ubiquitous roadside coconut vendors


There are over 50 varieties of mangoes, and I think most can be found here... they're everywhere you look


The bizarre mangosteen (no familial relation to mango as far as I know, maybe the stepchild or brother-in-law?). Sort of like the lychee... more fun to eat than actually tasty

I found the big city market around here, replete with jewelry inlaid with Indian gems, Kashmiri direct importers selling pashmina and silk textiles (hand-sewn silk rugs in traditional Kashmiri designs that take two years to complete by the hands of two weavers... and only cost a few thousand USD... that means you're paying one weaver $1,600/year for his labor), marble-carved objects, batik cloths, teas (Sikkim, Assam, Darjeeling, and Nilgiri), even bottled saffron. Any takers?

Monday, July 21, 2008

union demands

To add to my previous list of collective bargaining agreements provisions fought for by the unions at the manufacturing plants I've been visiting, I got my grubby hands on an even cooler list- "details of welfare items and other benefits eligible for employees." Among the exhaustive list, some strange ones:

[item: amount, frequency]

  • socks: 2 pairs, yearly
  • towels: 3, yearly
  • ball point pens: 1 , yearly (a little stingy, no? come on guys... let's work on this one)
  • rain coat (duck-back): 1, 3 years
  • bedsheet: 1, yearly
  • coconut oil: 2 liters, bi-monthly
  • Hamam soap: depends on who you are. Ranges from 10, bimonthly, to 2, "as and when." "Security dog squard" [sic] and "Refrigiration [sic] Chiller Leak-Test Maintenance" get the least; full-timers and "probatioers" [sic] get the most.
  • Horlicks (basically, little cookies): 1 kg, 3 months

Then, regarding guaranteed allowances:

(part of the benevolent fund:) 25,000 rupees for "dying in harness," "22 carrot [sic] gold coin" for retiring after 10 years, and for "retirement memento," a "bi-cycle" and "one (1) wall clock."

As this is part of a collective bargaining agreement that wasn't supposed to leave the plant, I'll just keep the company name and specifics anonymous, but the ridiculous product demands were so great I had to publish it for all to see... perhaps unions in America will soon be inspired to demand rubber duckie raincoats and chocolate cookies as well!

Sunday, July 20, 2008

pith helmet/monocle rental wanted, inquire within

My rentor slipped a note under my door last night. His family wishes me to accompany them to none other than the Madras Club (yes... the one written about in one of my first entries) tonight for dinner. His next note slipped under the door outlined the dress code (before I accepted, I guess this means no is not taken for an answer!). Time will tell if this or Pondicherry marks my most colonial experience thus far.
If Indian AA alkaline batteries lasted more than one lousy digital camera shot ("Eveready" has proven itself to be "Neveready," as I have been throwing them away after literally one or two shots, and local brands only seem to fare worse... I'm fairly certain onions, soaked in Gatorade, produce more electricity than these "batteries") I would be able to photograph the occasion... maybe I'll just buy a whole pack and throw them away for every shot, like used bullet cartidges, spent canisters littering the ground around me. In addition to the bubble-pack-like mini-packs of water (available for one rupee each) thrown away at news stands city-wide, I'm starting to locate the sources of the piles of trash on the side of the road.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Pondicherry Pt. II

Note: click on any photo posted in this blog to see the full-size version.

Artifacts at a French colonial antique shop / garden


Tamil fisherman coming in with his catch



Typical Pondicherry street


Typical roadside Tamil temple


Beach slums. This is what the slums on the coast of Chennai and on the railway and highway roadsides of Delhi and Chennai look like as well. Living conditions like these (exposure to elements, proximity to ocean) are the reason so many people died in the 2004 tsunami in India (a result of which the rock barrier was likely built).

Pondicherry Pt. I

That is one awesome handlebar!


Gang of goats patrolling the seashore


Fishermen underneath the pier


Pondicherry bazaar


I bought hand-made leather sandals, custom built to my "giant American feet" (direct quote from this guy) from the man pictured. I was laughed at upon returning to my guest house; I paid $12, but locals pay $7. I'm such a chump.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Faux Pas Infraction List

Ugly-Americanisms committed thus far:



  • Offered rickshaw fare with my left hand. Driver shook his head "no" when offered the money.... free fare day, perhaps? No. Left hand is considered unclean... he made me shift my rupees to my right hand before handing to him. Woops.

  • Wore a polo shirt to work (with slacks, dress shoes, etc). A summer Friday in the corporate office in America is not the same here- business casual is for SATURDAY. Polos referred to as t-shirts here (glad I didn't wear an actual t-shirt... what's that downgraded to, a rag?).

  • Wore shoes (in: power plant control room, chemical laboratory, temples of any sort, houses...). For housekeeping issues and out of respect, feet and shoes are viewed as dirty and should be kept away from others as such. You are not to step over any part of someone either, even bums blocking your path on the street or someone's outstretched feet at a restaurants.

  • Wore shorts. Well, this one isn't such a faux pas, but it is certainly not in line with local custom. but it looks quite bizarre to locals. May as well put a "tourist" clapboard on your body. Even though it's the Bay of Bengal, summer, and near the equator, the dress code is either tight, tight 70's retro pants, business slacks, or the local dhoti. No shorts.

  • Invited our two housemaids out to a local fruit drink shop while the house was empty. Apparently, they are not allowed to leave the house, even while the owners are gone.

Additions to this list surely to come soon! And just think of the ones that haven't been pointed OUT to me...

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Photos

Happy birthday, Terra! Hope you all have a good time in Portland. I have been bugged by mom enough to post some photos so I will just post these with minimal explanation, I gotta get out of this office before 8 p.m. More soon. Enjoy-



One of the few and far between garbage cans; a monkey on this side, an ecstatic buddha on the other



This seemingly unremarkable, poorly shot photo is significant because it captures the three most commonly seen bizarre (to Westerners) occurrences of the Indian roadway:

- the omnipresent Ambassador car (described by one author as "clunky, a revamped 1948 Morris Oxford, which has a steering mechanism with the subtlety of an oxcart, guzzles gas like a sheik, and shakes like a guzzler)
- a group of cows hanging out on a highway
- the fact that our car is in the middle of the road (most of our time traveling on this trip was spent in the right, or wrong, lane, as you go into whichever lane has less cars in it, not which one was designated for your use)



The East India Distilleries sugar refinery in Pondicherry- you are looking at their state-of-the-art, brand new loading dock vehicles

My hosts in Pondicherry

Getting blessed by Lakshmi, the resident Ganesh-embodier, at Pondicherry's Ganesha temple
Tamil Nadu has four seasons: winter, spring, summer, and "monsoon." Accordingly, my web browser has just provided me with fashion tips, via the fashion section of a Indian news agency:

Look bright this monsoon
Reds, oranges, greens and yellows are 'in' colours for girls, this season. Denims are a total no-no. Capris, short skirts, knee length bermudas is what you want to get caught with.

Yeah... jeans were always so 20th century.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Factory Tours

As many of my site visits have gone, my interviews and various interactions with employees regarding non-professional subject matters have been far more interesting than the differences in human resources and industrial relations practices I oberved between India and the U.S. However, I would like to start out with an excellent HR/IR related excerpt I scribbled down from their collective bargaining agreement:

"Terms of Settlement: Section 15.1.2
It is agreed that the distribution pattern of biscuits will be as follows in the table below:

Day Biscuit Grams
M Britannia Milk Bikis 100
T Parle Krackjack 75
W Duke's Marie Break 100
R Britannia 50:50 75
F Parle Krackjack 75
S Britannia Milk Bikis 100
Su Britannia 50:50 75 "

(What?! The same ol' crap Monday and Saturday! Wildcat striiike!!!)

even better:

"Section 15.1.5
It is agreed that for the 9:30 a.m. tea distribution and 2:30 a.m. tea distribution, milk will be supplied to workmen at shop-floor level. The quantity of the milk shall not exceed 125 ml."

Ah, good. 125 mls ought to keep the labor unrest down a bit. Anyway, we had an interesting conversation in the safety and health assurance meeting room, where conversation regarding demographics and records quickly spiraled into accounts of what American university which manager had a child currently attending. They then proceeded to detail their recent company trip to France, their only foray into the West, wherein I was quite surprised to hear the panel recount their encounter with Parisian "negroes" whereupon they were forced to "cling to their passports and wallets" in fear as they walked to the Eiffel Tower (this came up after my wallet-losing story). They all seemed to nod in unison at their concern for their passports, and asked if I had similar problems in NYC. I also was surprised they would have this stereotype as I have not seen, to date, a single sub-Saharan African-Indian in India- not even a tourist. Where besides the media would they even attain such a stereotype if there aren't any here?

My next strange conversation came in the human resource manager's office, where I was saying my goodbyes at the day's end. The manager had just remembered to call in the union officials for me to speak with them, so I sat back down for what I thought would be a quick discussion. However, six men poured in and we didn't leave for the next hour and a half- they asked nonstop questions about everything you could imagine. It started, as usual, with their fascination of the "love" marriage vs. "arranged" marriage differences, and the idea that you have a choice of who to be with, parents are not involved to an extent, independence is gained at age 18, etc. "90% of teenagers live with girlfriends or boyfriends... yes?" was the first one I got. I asked what reputable source this came from, turns out it was a local Tamil gossip paper, surprise. Next was our presidential race- "Who better, Obama, or... other guy?" This is indicative of current news coverage in India of the campaigning in the U.S.- every day there is a story on Obama's stance on "the N-Deal," his defense of comments on Spanish education in schools, his pledge to visit India upon gaining office... but not a single mention of McCain in newspaper or cable news networks. I was then asked about school shootings, just as in New Zealand ten years ago, as they think the schools are battlegrounds and wondered if I carried a weapon. Then, gas prices ("petrols per liter, how much?") and since I don't know conversion from liters to gallons, dollars to rupees, or if petrol is even the same chemical composition as gasoline and if they differ in the refining process, I answered "a whole bunch"). My favorite unsolicited comment came at the end, when questions appeared to be over and the HR manager made a pronouncement, emphasized with the stroke of his formidable moustache and a pound of his fist at the end of his opinion: "Mr. Greg (pronounced "Grikk"), one thing I do not like, unisex marriages, how you say, it is an abomination. Your nation are being disgraced and you must stop it." After assuring him I will surely put an end to this outrage upon my triumphant return to the states (I think the humor was lost on them?), my hand was shaken by all and I was invited to bring "my wife and all my children" to visit many years from now.

My host had a few other things to say as well, being able to laugh at his own culture. When I asked about vacation and holiday time, he explained that the factory works Mondays-Saturdays, but operating engineers and maintenance work Sundays as well. In general, it was hard to please everyone, because of the religious diversity in India and the differences in days of rest, summed up in his description of the nations rest schedule: "Christians... Sunday, day rest. Jews, Friday night, Saturday... Muslims, Friday. Hindus... every day."

Monday, July 14, 2008

"Where from, my friend?"

Beyond just random encounters with bands of beach roamers at Marina Beach and shopkeepers, I think this is always the question I am asked first (and I am always someone's "friend," before we have introduced ourselves, of course), in various forms of grammatical usage and intelligiblity. Depending on the familiarity with America (usually immediately identifiable by the accent and if they can complete the sentence or not) I have noticed that I am always changing my answer around: I am from USA to some, west coast to others, Oregon, even Portland, and to a few Americans I just met last weekend, I even specified my neighborhood IN Portland (who knew someone from a few houses down the block).
Even more confusing is that I have lived in many other areas since childhood- when first asked this by rickshaw drivers I thought they were asking where I was coming from just now (work?). I then wondered if they wanted to know where I flew in from (since I must be a tourist to be seen in this town!), where I have lived most recently, where my family is currently, etc. Although I usually just answer "New York City" even though I only lived there for 18 months, but I get a big smile, thumbs up, and instant name recognition. It's a hell of a lot easier than trying to explain where Portland is on a map.

I've been noticing a lot of these on, well, everything lately. The swastika is considered very auspicious by Hindus. "Throughout India, it can be seen on the sides of temples, religious scriptures, gift items, and letterheads. Even the Hindu god Ganesh is often shown sitting on a lotus flower on a bed of swastikas." Depict a bed of swastikas in modern-day Germany and you'll soon be sitting your ass in court (or jail, if the oft-attempted E.U. legislation passes through), not on a flower. I have observed this symbol daily for a month now, and as its regularity changes from eye-catchingly racy to everyday adornment in my eyes, it made me think about perceptions of symbols across cultures. In the West it is taboo, but here people have the welded into their wrought iron gates, painted on the backs of their trucks, and displayed on the fronts of their shops. Similarly (also relating to Judaism and symbology in India), another interesting usage is of the hexagonal Star of David. Used in various Mughal (a post-Khanate Islamic Asian empire) architectural feats I observed in Delhi, such as mosques and palaces, I thought it was an interesting choice in symbology (viewed both then and now) considering the early Mughal Empire's history of religious tolerance (read: total lack thereof) and mainstream Islam's current view of Judaism (read: pretty dim).

I am trying to figure out a good name for the new resident gecko in my room. I usually am not too accepting of uninvited occupants on four (or more) feet, but given the trails of ants that like to colonize any food item I bring into my room and the nightly mosquito invasion, I would gladly accept a breeding program of these dudes, or even an incentivized immigration scheme with high-priority visa-rushing privileges afforded to them into my American-controlled sector. I have even started noticing bats swooping around at dusk outside my door, and gained a newfound appreciation for them as well. Basically, anything that kills mosquitoes can gain my respect at this point in my stay here. I found myself actually missing spiders a few days ago (there are none to be found... what's going on???).
Anyway... now accepting gecko suggestions.