Until Next Time

As I'm sitting on my bed (yes, I'm back home in the United States, almost over my jet lag) and thinking about an adequate title for the very last post of this blog, I'm wondering how to adequately summarize my trip in India. It was busy, hectic, stressful but at the same time, it was relaxed, fun, and peaceful.

But before I go on, let me just recap what I did during the last week we were in India. My last day of work was Monday, and so the rest of the week involved getting ready for our flight on Friday. Tuesday we went shopping in Rajori Garden; after four hours of shopping, I finally bought a pair of sandals. Needless to say, my aunt never wants to go shopping with me again. Wednesday we didn't really do much, but at night we went to the Great Kebab Factory. My cousin, brother, and I all ate more than double of what we normally ate-8 kebabs, chicken biryani (which is rice), daal (lentils), okra, tandoori roti, and five desserts (I had four of the desserts, by that time, I was stuffed). Thursday we stayed close to home, visiting a relative (I found out that I was now an aunt, my mother found out she was a grandmother), and shopping. While we were shopping, we saw a little stall that was selling my favorite food-gol gappa. And so we ate four plates of them. The guy selling the gol gappe handed out a small paper bowl to all of us (my mom, brother, and I), and as he was making the gol gappa, he would dump them in our bowls. According to my mother, he went really slowly since he could tell that we were new at the art of eating gol gappe, but it was hard to keep up. The water from the gol gappa kept spilling in the bowl, filling the bowl up, and leaving less room for the actual gol gappa. But it was delicious. There are no words to describe the satisfaction I felt eating gol gappe on the streets of India. Friday was our flight, so naturally, we didn't do much. I wanted to get some mehendi (henna) done on my ankle, but unfortunately, the person close to my aunt's apartment had gone to some event. The Indian government recently build a new terminal for international flights, Terminal 3, so that's where we went. The airport was quite comparable to many other international airports of the world, but on a smaller scale, since it didn't seem as though they had finished constructing all the stores. Nonetheless, all of us bought books (generally the only thing we buy) and ate a McDonald's Chicken burger. The flight was full, and unfortunately for me, something upset my stomach, so my new best friend for the 16 hr plane ride was the air-sickness bag. Seriously folks, I now know where they keep the extra air-sickness bags. It was bad. There was a time when I was unable to drink water for fear of regurgitating it. Thankfully, the air sickness passed, and when we landed at Newark Airport at 4:30 am, I was ready to go home and eat something.

With the recap over, I have finally come to a conclusion about India: it is a jumble of contradictions. There are places like Leh, beautiful, clean, serene, and then there are places like Mumbai or Delhi, where breathing the air is almost as hazardous as smoking and honking cars are the only sound one hears. India is a land of the rich, with buisness men like the Ambanis buying their wives jets or apartment buildings for their birthdays, but also the land of the poor, where many families live on less than a dollar a day and resort to begging. It is the land of modern values and more traditional ones, with more girls going to college but fathers and brothers committing "honor killings" if a girl marries someone outside her gotra or caste. It is a land of the good and honest, with people like the man I met in South India last year, taking care of hundreds of orphans, not only feeding them and clothing them, but also teaching them. But at the same time, it is the land of the corrupt, with government officials often siphoning public money to finance their own (often home improvement related) projects, with the worst offenses coming at the time when India, a land that can compete with the rest of the world, has finally gotten the chance to do just that. With India hosting the Commonwealth Games, the entire nation should rise as one above the petty politics and create something that the whole nation can be proud of. But instead of that the workers building all the Games-related infrastructure earn only 130 Rupees for 12 hours of work, much less than what anyone can live on, while many Indian officials pay 4,000 Rupees for toilet tissue paper rolls, pay a rent of 10 lakh (1 million) rupees on treadmills that cost only 1 lakh (100,000) rupees, and siphon off an inordinate amount money on the side, losing the respect of much of the Indian population in the process. India is ready to join the rest of the developed nations of the world. But to do that will require a strong government and a reconciliation of all these conflicts.

And with that, shukriya for reading my blog.

Lack of Posts, part 2

There has been a lack of posting from my side for the past few days, mainly due to the fact that the computer I was working on crashed (well, technically, a virus infected the RAM, which didn't allow the computer to boot). As I wasn't able to connect to the internet from my laptop, posting anything on this blog became virtually (no pun intended) impossible. In fact, the only reason I am able to post this is because I am at work. This is however, my last day at work, so hopefully the computer from which I get internet at home can be fixed, so the blogging can resume!

Accidents happen

So yesterday, on the way to work, our car happened to get into an accident. It wasn't anything to serious, just a scratch on both the cars,  but what happened afterwards took 3 hours.


We had left the house at 8:15, slightly later than usual. As we reached the road that would take us out of Dwarka and lead us into Delhi, we saw that there was a huge traffic jam. Now, to get onto the road, you can either take a left turn (which is at a 90 degree angle) or you can take a softer left turn, which allows you to merge into the road. It looks something like this:

This picture was made possible by contributions from Paint

As you can see from the picture, when out car and the other car tried to merge, there was a collision. It wasn't a huge collision; our car happened to scratch the other car, while the other car's left hand side mirror scratched the side of our car. Apparently, slight scratches are daily occurrences for Indian drivers, but the driver of the car, who we later realized work for as a driver for a taxi company, wanted my uncle to come out and look at the scratch on his car. He was ready to stop at the point of the accident, but we moved slightly further down the road so that a huge traffic jam wouldn't form around us (if one thing goes wrong on the road in India, in five minutes, there is a traffic jam). 

When we got down from the car, we all saw the scratch on his car. In all honesty, it wasn't that big of a scratch. And it wasn't like our car didn't have a scratch; it did, almost from the front of the car to the back. My uncle pulled out the insurance papers and was willing to pay for any damage, but the driver refused. He was adamant on the fact that the police should be called to assess the damage and the payment. I later learned that it was because the scratch was so minor that the insurance company would not pay anything to him, so in hopes of earning some money, he called the PCR (Police Control Room). In the mean time, he had called some of his friends who were also taxi drivers. One came and tried to act as the mediator between the two sides, telling my uncle that if he just gave 1000 rupees to the driver, the problem would be resolved. A thousand rupees is a lot of money in India, and the damage done did not amount to that amount, so my uncle promptly told him that the police was coming and that they would decide (he realized that both drivers just wanted to earn some money, so they asked for 1000 rupees when 200 would have sufficed).

Now, in the US, when someone dials 911, the police usually respond within 5 minutes. In India, it took one and a half hours for the police to come, after both him and my uncle had dialed 100 (the 911 of India) multiple times. This is a major problem. If the police can't come within 5 minutes, then how can anyone expect the ambulances or fire brigades to come within 5 minutes? It would probably be quicker for someone who is having a heart attack to be driven to the hospital than to wait for an ambulance to come. No wonder that some places have taken to nickname the PCR "Police Cannot Reach". 

Anyway, after the police came, they assessed the damage on both cars. The police in India look something like this. Personally, I would be more afraid of American police than Indian police, but according to my mother, in the long run, you should be more afraid of Indian police (perhaps because for many the police have become synonymous with corruption). After looking at the damage on both cars, they stated that they couldn't tell how much the compensation should be (for both parties) and so decided to take us to the police station in Dwarka. At this point of time, I was dropped off at home, so the next part of the story was told to me by my aunt and uncle.

When they reached the police office, they were taken to the desk of the inspector. According to my aunt, many times one of the police officers told her that she could sit in the car, but she refused, wanting to hear the inspector's judgement. According to my uncle, this helped their case. After hearing both sides of the story, the inspector promptly scolded the taxi driver for wasting the PCR's time with such a minor accident. The taxi driver then proclaimed that my aunt and uncle looked like the type of people who would run. The inspector scoffed, saying something like my aunt and uncle gave up going to office to come to the police station. Did they really look like they were going to run? He made the taxi driver write in a book that the scratch on his car was the same as the scratch on our car, and that he expected no compensation. He told my uncle that if he wanted to pay something. Although the driver had lowered his initial amount to 500 rupees, my uncle eventually paid him 200 rupees. This all ended at about 11: 30, taking a total of 3 hours. My uncle went to work afterwards, but for my aunt (who works in the Reserve Bank of India), it didn't make sense to go back to work. 

By accident (no pun intended), both my aunt and I got a break from work. 

When it rains on Saturday, it rains for the entire week

Or at least, that's what my aunt believes. It poured on Saturday and Sunday, and it looks like it will rain today as well.

The problem with rain however, is that there is not an efficient sewer system in place in Delhi. So when it rains, the streets get filled with water, making transportation a nightmare. On Saturday, we went to watch Inception (it was a great movie; for everyone who hasn't watched it, your life is incomplete). When we started, it was only drizzling. By the time we got into the city, it was pouring. Every time a metro station loomed overhead, there was a traffic jam. Why? Because everyone riding a bicycle or a motorcycle would haphazardly park their bikes underneath the station, hoping that the rain would stop within the next 15 minutes. It didn't. It rained continuously for almost 4 hours. The continuous rain caused the roads to become super muddy (a lot of the roads aren't paved in India) and dirty. I like rain, but not like this.

We reached the mall which housed the movie theater without any major incident. In India, before you can enter any mall, you have to go through a metal detector, and then you are patted down by an attendant (for women, it's done in an enclosed space the size of a large closet). I was patiently waiting for the attendant to finish frisking the woman in front of me. As soon as she motioned for the next person to come in, this girl in her early 20s pushed past me (literally, pushed past me) and entered. That's one of the biggest problems (I think) in India: no one is willing to wait. Everyone's time is ultra-important, at least, more important than the next guy's, so they have to be first. It leads to traffic jams and problems like this, and more than that, it gives an impression of rudeness. Is it really too hard to wait an extra 30 seconds? Is it? And if it is, then you should have planned for that, giving yourself extra time in case something like this happened.

Thankfully, we reached the movie in time. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie (my Facebook status since then has been a quote from the movie). In the theater, however, I noticed that there were many couples. Now, most Indian parents are anti-relationship, especially during the high school/college years. All the couples seemed to be in that age group. Parents could be becoming more liberal. I don't think so though. I think the Indian teens are trying to emulate the culture of the West. Is that a good thing? Most definitely not. I think that the Indian teens see the West through such distorted glasses, through movies like Mean Girls and MTV shows (like Jersey Shore), which don't depict reality AT ALL. Note to all Indian teens: No, even though I'm a teenager, I do not have a night life. I do not go clubbing. I do not drink or do drugs. I don't talk like Snookie from Jersey Shore. I haven't had 30 relationships in high school. I don't party all the time. In fact, in the last year, I can count the number of parties I've been to on my hands, maybe even one hand. Now that could be because of my Indian heritage and the focus on education, but I'm pretty sure that most teens in the US would say that these last few statements are true. These statements may seem outrageous, but I have had Indian girls (teens) ask me if I have a night life in the US. I live in a place where the mall closes at 9:30...on weekends.


So, I have two requests. One, to American producers: Please try and make more realistic shows. You're ruining the reputation of all the Indians who go abroad and live in a foreign country. Not to mention that you're leading minors to drink, smoke and do drugs. Second, to Indian teens: Don't believe everything you see or hear.