Manali trip: Walk to Solang valley

The initial plan was two-days trekking, but the hard reality came out shortly: three of us were not be able to afford the services of the qualified guides (1200-1500 Rs per day per person, with all the food, luggage and transportation – when applicable - arranged). So, we opted for simply doing a walk per day on our own. The major trek was that to Solang valley (14km): this one is recommended by Footprints and was offered by both guides we had a word with. Without any extra challenge for your stamina you can follow a well-developed trail that goes along the bank of Beas River and leads you through 3 villages: Goshal, Shanag and Buruwa.

The very beginning of the trek (Old Manali, right from Manulsu bridge) gives you a promising perspective on magnificent snow-covered peak, so seemingly close and so obviously remote.



By the steeps on the left you can study various rocks in their rich varieties and forms. On the right, across the river you get an overview of Vashish village. The trek is mostly flat and the sun is nicely warm, yet bright and we are not burdened with two-day provision as initially planed – what else to wish?

The first village comes soon and we climb down carefully stocked and covered with metal nets piles of stones and get right to a backyard of some house. The houses are built very close to each other and there is hardly any fences separating one from another. Mostly houses are two-storey and made of stone with wooden terrace encircling the building on the level of on the second floor.



It is very quiet around and you hardly notice any people outside. Whatever you see in the village is in the state of outstanding order and cleanness: being it a sleek cow, carefully stocked brushwood or contentiously groomed paths.



And the bushes of roses here and there just reinforce the feeling of the ultimate neat arrangement.



You get a feeling that things get done by invisible forces in this village. Unless you get quiet and watch. Then you notice women looking through wheat (picture by Roel)



Women weaving (picture by Roel)



Old women sitting and talking



It takes just a couple of minutes to cross the village and we find ourselves in a small wheat field, the smallest one ever seen by me, a Russian used to the views of endless fields of collective farms.



Further one we come across some women washing clothes in a stream (picture by Roel)



And a woman pasturing goats shows us a path through a swampy piece of land. Before we reach Shanag, the next village, we cross through numerous, but very small fields: potatoes, wheat, peas, again peas, potatoes wheat and peas again. The scarce land in the hills is carefully used for the essential food of the region – aloo, chapatti and dalh. There are many women working on the peas’ fields and while we stop for pictures they throw a couple of bean-pods for us with a laugh. That’s been a long time I haven’t had fresh green peas. After all, right before Shanag starts we come across a field with cannabis. Obviously, someone have to provide those down the hill in Manali. Believe or not, it was me pointing it out for Roel, assumingly a Dutch guy. We in Russia see in growing randomly as a weed on the streets, yet Dutch people are more familiar with its dry form.



In Shanag the major insight about the division of labor comes. After having seen armies of women working on the fields and weaving, the questions was hanging in the air. What about the men? Here we go: the men are found sitting altogether in some joint and peacefully talking. Very typical of a North-Indian village.

Shanag follows by a small bridge across the river and a very dramatic view over the mountains.





Once reached Buruwa, the last village in the program, the realization comes that village is not village. Isolated Goshal with its wooded houses hardly resembles well-connected, building up with fancy jeeps parked nearby Buruwa.

For little longer we follow dirt road until we reach a motorway. From that point we start wondering about further directions and the distance to Solang valley. During the two subsequent hours the answer we have been getting from any randomly picked up local “4 kilometers”. And when after a while we spotted the sign



We have got the point then: you do not ask about distance in this country. Similarly, as “5 minutes” comes as a standard reply to any questions regarding the time (How long does it take? When is Mr. A back?) “4 kilometers” works as a universal reply for any distance-related questions.

Little later we come across another road sign that explains a good deal of the national philosophy regarding the issue.



Yet, walking along the road has become an unforgettable experience as we really have grasped the essence of the place: snow shoes, fur coats and ski-kind of overalls are on offer for rent at the numerous joints along the way. And the newly opened for us view have suggested some clues on why.



As we are getting closer and closer the scenery becomes more and more spectacular. Slender trees aiming at the sky…. Free-standing and proud ones…. I have really got the meaning of the lines by Lermontov at that point. In the wild north a pine-tree stands lonely…….



Yet the destination appears to be more than disappointing. Overcrowded by Indian families, the area is really polluted due to immense presence of donkeys that carry people up the hill.



So to just discover an unspectacular open space (a valley?) where some funny people do what they call paragliding and the rest are socializing at one of a few plastic dhabas.



Seriously, if not a great walk, - NEVER!

On the way back to Manali we take bus (10 Rs) and find ourselves in may-voiced crowd of pupils (13-16 y.o.) from Gujrat coming back from a school trip. Roel gets immediately booked by the teen girls whereas I am getting boys’ attention. With laughter and jokes in the bus waddling on the meandering road within some 15-20 minutes we reach back.

Manali trip: accomodation

The place we stayed at during these three blessed days in Manali deserves a hymn.

Charmed by the laziness of summer-resort-looking Old Manali; inspired by the rumbling, yet somehow pacifying river; inhaling fresh mountain-bread, richly warned up by the sun, but not boiling – air; fulfilled with a yummy brunch eaten at River Music café gorgeously located nearby the river (right next to Manulsu bridge)… we headed to find an accommodation. Invariably relying on Lonely Planet and Footprints we picked up a couple of names from the lowest price range – and armed with no expectations – walked to those. Despite the high season has started it did not take us long to find a free room. The one happened to be in Apple View, a small two-storey house located little up the hill and well hidden in the apple orchards.




The room appeared to be just perfect – fairly spacious with a 2-peson bed and a small appendix with another bed – which suited us, 2 girls and 1 guy traveling together. Yet, soon we realized that we have got way more than just a nice room.

Now and then those found accommodation in one of the 9 rooms at Apple View come out for a chat to engage in, for a book to read, for view to the mountain peaks in the distance to admire.



The two shady terraces and beautiful garden with apple trees and rose bushes make you forget any other destinations in town you have been planning to visit…




Pop in Apple View in the morning – and you would be charmed by the relaxed spirit the place is filled in with: a few guests are still indulging breakfast, a girl is taking pictures of the beautiful roses in the garden,



a lucky one is lying down in the hammock with a book,



the host and his family once having made sure all the guests are give food and directions for a new adventures day…are relaxing over a cup of tea and cookies…



The person who keeps the guesthouse is one of the most hospitable, yet, not intrusive hoteliers I saw in India. He is there for you to give a cup of hot chai before you go to bed, to serve you a freshly made pancakes and omelet for breakfast and to provide you with a very simple, yet tasty veg lunch – in both Indian (chapatti, dalh, rice, vegetables) and Western (pasta, soup) fashion. He is there to tell you about worthwhile places to go, best ways to get there, good prices to pay. Very humble, yet open and willing to meet people.

And, at last, one may wonder how on earth such a fairytale comes almost for free – in terms of both hassle and money. For the two comfortable nights along with two yummy breakfasts and one lunch each of us paid 300 Rs (6.5 USD). Highly recommend to all.

Manali – first impressions and the truth

The bus brings you to the very heart of New Manali, or Model Town. The area around the government buss stand is stuffed with cafes and namkeen shops with appetizing samosas for 10 Rs and warm gulab jamun reveling in sweet syrup (20 Rs in the places facing the main road and 12 Rs in the places in the neighbor quiet street); with pretentious hotels and simple-minded guesthouses; with shops selling Kullu hats and Kullu shawls – echos of the very market that is located a bit further; with tourist agencies whose offers ranges from one day treks nearby Manali to three-week routs to Lekh; with walking to and fro vendors of basically useless, but nice things such a stapler sold under the name “Madam, look, sewing machine”; with huge and small private and public vehicles arriving and departing and competing for the space on the road; and with people – masses of people – selling, buying, coming, leaving, wandering, walking…

A brief consultation with Lonely Planet and Footprints beforehand gave us idea that by all the means we should get out of New Manali, this expensive, soul-less McDonalds-for-tourists. The guidebooks and the guts did not let us down: Old Manali we headed to right upon arrival (10 minutes by auto rickshaw, 30 Rs) appeared to be a piece of heaven.

Old Manali is located up the hill and also has a clearly touristic character. Yet, the sort of tourists is different there. New Manali appears as a destination for Indian families who get out of the heat for a weekend and therefore are really under time pressure to enjoy what the hills of Manali (altitude 1, 926 m) have got to offer. Yet, Old Manali is a definite destination for laid-back Westerns looking for the religious enlightment, mental balance, or thrill. Loose cotton clothes, shabby bags, wooden beads, dreads, a freshly rolled joint to share – this is how one identifies those in the search. Internet cafes, Tibetan eateries showing movies with Johnny Depp, tourist shops with Indian souvenirs and clothes – those are the places where much of the happening comes into life with the blessings of Bob Marley. And the very fact those places are mushrooming indicates that the locals know their customer. It is for the sake of her, for the customer, Old Manali appears as a place of budget quite and isolated bungalows and guesthouses where Westerners eagerly stay and easier find the divine so sought after. Rough, yet plunging you to peace Beas River also contributes to the very tranquil spirit of Old Manali.



One of the town’s landmarks is the Tibetan Quarter and Buddhist Monastery built by Tibetan refugees. Without extensive experience with Buddist temples I can still claim they are very inviting and not-obliging, to put it this way. One can just walk in and feel free to pray, bow (as traditional Buddhists do) or simply wander around. In the center of the temple one finds a statue of Buddha with half-shut eyes.



The paintings on the walls picture the motives similar to those of Christianity – crucifixion, fight between good and evil)…yet the impression this cartoon-style paintings (as opposed to naturalistic once in Christian churches) is so different.

Picture by Roel

The colorful attire of the temple makes it impossible to engage in any painful thoughts.





After all, I think of Buddism as a light-hearted religion of happiness. What else but that one can read from the smiles through the narrow lids of Tibetans.


Picture by Roel

There are a few villages nearby Manali very worth a visit. Dhungri village is famous for its 16-century Hindu temple (Hadimba Devi Temple) that resembles nothing but a typical Scandinavian stave kirke. Its decorations with horns of animals and wooden carvings of plants and animals just reinforce its Viking-style look.



The place is a major point for the pilgrimage of Indian families. This fact seems to be well commercialized by the entrepreneur-minded locals. Right beside the temple it one can take pictures on a yak, a typical inhabitant of hill stations (yak agrees to pose for 10 Rs). Tender-hearted grannies also come up with white and fluffy rabbits to supplement the picture.



The image of a guy proudly sitting on a yak is obviously a wanna-do thing that is much on demand. Yet, how cool is that to supplement the image with a tender rabbit in the masculine arms of the rider?!



I do not know why Roel zaprotestovat to the grannies with the rabbits….



Another village nearby Manali is Vashisht, a growing destination for budget tourists as you can see by the amount of the latter and the expanding infrastructure of the village.







Also, Vashish hosts hot springs of mysterious origin, serving as a magnet for those believing in the healing qualities of the springs or just willing to bath in hot water.



A beautiful waterfall is in the walking distance from Vashisht village: 40 minutes walk through the village, graceful coniferous forest and some climbing up the green grass covered hill at the end lead you to a very rewarding destination.

Manali trip: traveling by a government bus

Snow-peak views and apple orchards of Manali are fourteen-bus-hours away from soaked in dust and fried by heat Delhi. How you will manage those fourteen hours does not really matter – Manali is worth it anyway. Yet, some reckon government busses are too high price to pay for it. Let’s see.

I should confess, it was me insisting on a government bus. 350 Rs (what it costs) seemed much a more attractive offer than 550 Rs (minimum price for a private bus, non a/c one). Roel demonstrated outstanding tolerance and agreed: later on I felt really sorry for this long-leg one – the seats were obviously meant for somewhat more compact creatures.

A great thing about a government bus is that you do not need to book it in advance. All you have to do is to show up at ISBT with your backpack and get a ticket. Yet, finding the respective ticket counter and the platform the bus leaves from is quite a task in itself: I remember the first time I was orientating at ISBT with Kanak and it took us a while to reach Himachal Pradesh ticket counter: as often in India everyone you ask about directions would immediately form an opinion about one without much clue. This way you find yourself at a crossroad with 15 guide signs “right direction” pointing every way.

But even when you find the counter you are still to figure out how you get your ticket. Because…. there are might be different counters for the state buses and Delhi buses….and each of them would be directing you to another….. or there would be a long mess-like queue and your bus, as you got to know just now, would be leaving in half a minute… Proactive approach is a key to success here even if it has to realize in addressing the same person with the same question a number of times, jumping the queue and resorting to some elbowing: means would totally justify the end.

Once weaponed with the ticket you enter a government bus - be prepared to be the focal point of attention as you (and your co-journeys) are most likely to be the only foreigners in the bus. Whenever I travel by bus I really wonder what people would think – they would obviously never believe I just do not have sufficient means to afford a more comfortable means of transportation…. Anyway – “which country” comes with astonishing frequency and amazed gazes speak for themselves.

Most probably a government bus would be fairly packed, so do not hope for more than one seat per person. Well, you might get luckier at some parts of the trip (most likely Delhi to Chandigarh) and get the whole 3 seats at your disposal, so you can fairly comfortable lie down with you knees bended. Yet, once the bus gets full there is a major skill to master (in not yet) – sleeping when sitting straight and you have got the whole night ahead to practice. And you’d better learn. Shoulder of a person sitting next (better be your friend) works good, but looks like you winning a zero-sum game: your head is hardy as comfortable to lean on as his (her) shoulder. Roel and me were using a rolled up blanket as a common pillow between our heads. Yet, it appears a bit tricky considering the road is rather meandering, so once the bus declines on one side the whole construction of two heads and a pillow in between has to shift. Managing your legs is another trick to figure out. For that reason the best three seats seem to be the ones right behind the driver – the space for legs is fair.

It is not only congested bus that makes sleeping a very doubtful perspective, but the mode of driving and sort of roads. Imagine for a minute, you managed to take a fairly comfortable position. Happy? ........Wham!..... You get tossed about. Forward-backward tossing happens due to sudden braking that the daring drivers keen on fast driving have to resort to now and then. Right-left side tossing happens due to sudden turns that are invariable feature of mountain meandering roads. Sleep has never been such a remote perspective.

Another thing that ensures comfortable ride (forget the sleep) is being a man. In that case you do not have to worry about strangers sitting or standing next to you. As a girl I am constantly horrified.... or I choose to travel with Roel who is very sensitive to the issue. For that reason it was him who took the seat right next to the passage: yes, people standing in the passage and leaning over him were really disturbing, but this way Roel really saved us from those ribbing against.

And do not forget to keep windows open to ensure fresh air comes in ... and even if it does only along with dust and sounds of horns it is still better than oppressive heat.

A government bus makes a lot of stops on the way. Many of them are just to pick up those waiting on the road and basically traveling short distances passengers. Yet, there are longer stops at proper bus stations at the major towns. The trick with the latter is that you never know how long the stop is. Asking is useless as the driver might reply typical “5 minutes” (normal answer whenever you ask Indian people how long something would take) or “the bus leaves at 7-30” types while it is already 7-35 pm. So, whether you need to get some snacks and water or (better avoided, but how?) to use toilet – you’d better keep an eye on the bus that might be leaving anytime. Using toilet on bus trips (shall I clarify or it is needless that there is no toilet on a government bus?) is a trick in itself. Not if you are a man, obviously. Yet, as a women once more you feel screwed just by the virtue of being one. Well, at all the major bus-stops there would be some sort of place to ensure privacy – toilet they call it – no much there reminds the latter though. For 2 rupies paid to some nonchalant -laid-back didi or grinning baysab you get access to a tiny cubicle with a hole in the floor and water tap somewhere outside if you are lucky.

Some stops are made at road-side dhabas to get some cooked food. Hygiene freaks should obviously stay away from those places as samosas picked up by hands, chapattis and dalh you have to eat with your fingers, water of the origin you would never get to know for sure about, steel plates rinsed with some cold water after the previous use and glass chai glasses would definitely threaten their ideal of this bacteria-free world.

When leaving the bus during a stop you should carefully preserve your seat – leave some stuff (yet making sure you do not leave anything valuable) so to indicate the seat is taken. That way you make sure you do not find someone else sitting there once you get back happy after satisfying your basic needs.

One third of the trip to Manali takes place in the morning, so for some hours you will in the condition of anxious anticipation: when is manali?… when is manali?… Mandir… Kullu… Kullu again.. WHEN IS MANALI? Scarce road signs would tell you 64… 24…. 10 kms ahead, but it is still cumbersome to make out how long it would take to cover those - providing the stops and traffic jams that happen on the narrow streets of towns now and then. Yet, if you think of it you get to see a lot: global brands ensured their presence even in the remote villages, tailors working in the roadside shops, folk shopping for vegetables, people in the passing by vehicles watching you.

After all, one may wonder. Is it worth it? Does saving in terms of money when taking a government bus pays off or puts you through a number of mental and physical hardships next to impossible to handle? I reckon, some adventurous spirit should be there. If government busses exists it means those are needed…And one cannot claim she had been traveling in India and got a clue about the country unless she tried a government bus. At least once.

I hate writing obituaries

On Tuesday when the Delhi trainee community was loudly celebrating Diki’s farewell at Kalkaji, I was anxiously waiting for Milena to come back. This one was hanging out somewhere with her nds and was about to join Kalkaji farewell activities later. Otherwise she was leaving India the day after. So was Melis.

Trainees as a community are blessed with short memory. Many of them having just three-four months in their disposal are hungry for whatever incredible India has got to offer them. “Good fun” becomes the target, the motto of the stay and is certainly put into action. People would “work hard and party harder” to make sure they would leave India with a fat phone book half-never-used; 30 kg of extra luggage naturally made up with stuff that is sooo exotic and soooo cheap here; piles of CDs with a decent photo portfolio of the country collected while extensive weekend travelling; love-hate sort of feelings regarding rickshaw drivers, spicy food, insane traffic, crowded markets and sounds of Hindi that are way more familiar but still not understandable. Well, short memory is fairly enough to accommodate the details of this three-month adventure happened in India. Truly adventure; as for many it would be completely unthinkable to replicate at home.

Yet, think of those who, by virtue of staying longer or just by the virtue of the attitude come here to live their life just as they would somewhere else in the world. I believe this is how it felt by both Melis and Milena.

Melis was teaching dance to kids. She was proudly showing her treasury - collection of CDs with performances from the divas of Indian classical dance that she was keen on exploring. I regret I never saw her performing, yet whenever I saw her she was always on stage. Melodramatic as Kanak called her once, or graceful in whatever she was doing, as I would say from a female point of view. Melis, easily carried away with thrilling plans and beautiful things, bought 10-kg tabla just before leaving. The instrument came on the top of 20 other boxes filled with chiffon skirts and camel leather shoes that this girl, who otherwise hates shopping, managed to amass in India.

Milena has become as Indianized as a blond girl can be to her best. She was wearing bindies that went so well with her blond hear and her light-colour-eyes that she was narrowing when smiling. You would hear her Indian “ha-ha-ha” instead of English “yes” and this typical, “I saw you that day, no? You were wearing a skirt”. Those tiny little Hinglish-specific features you adopt with ease. Masses of those and other small and big attachments that took over her during one and a half years in India, she was leaving behind now. She was at this farewell arranged for someone else by people she did not really know, by the people still excited about things that had already become a rightful part of her reality.

Once the both girls left, for me it became the end of Kalkaji, the way I got to know them when I arrived. Leila, Corina, Ellen, Hannes, Carol, Melis and Milena. Most of them were working for various NGOs here and this was one of the reasons it made them such a diverse, yet very tight bunch. Very tight, yet very inclusive. They used to party, go out, spend time and travel together and it was always great to join them – did not really matter for what.

I gave girls a pair of small camel leather shoes – one shoe for each. For them to remember they were two of the bunch left… and leaving at the same time.

Insightful gender training

These Monday and Tuesday were fruitfully spent at the training programme conducted by the training division of CSR. The event was meant for the representatives from CSR’s offices at the development sights in Kanpur and Varanassi (both Uttar Pradesh). Yet, the whole CSR team was emphatically invited to join. And the invitation was surely worth it.

Our training division specializes on gender-sensitizing workshops. This one focused on gender mainstreaming, i.e. putting gender perspective on the head of the development projects.

Yet, for me the number of the gender insights I got was outnumbered by the amount of linguistic ones. The latter naturally came once I realized that the promised mixture of English and Hindi means nothing but having some powerpoint slides to supports the talk conducted in Hindi. I prepared to be a passive observer, yet nothing of that sort happened …While consisting of some lecture-style sessions the training included a large amount of participatory elements - case studies, group- and individual exercises – that assumed active involvement. And surprisingly I was… yes, actively involved… commenting, building up, adding on….. And I really appreciate the effort of all those trainers who tried to be inclusive.

At the lecture-type sessions (Hindi-Hindi) I tried to listen and that way picked many words (at times even guessing the meaning, but more often – hassling Piyali for the translations or explanations). At some point I realized that I am listening as attentively as I would do if the training had been conducted in English. Some girls commented on that to me in the break and I recalled my teachers at school and universities who used to point out the same. I realized that attentive listening is not only about comprehending the messages conveyed, but also to a large extent about establishing emotional contact with a speaker, being it a friendly chat or at a public lecture. By listening and giving your attention you show you are interested and involved, you respect and care. And that cannot pass unnoticed by the speaker for whom your attention comes as a great support. Attentive listening is very rewarding for both.

In fact, in some Hindi sessions I just gave up and let my mind float - was a great way to get brilliant ideas completely unrelated to the training issues: believe it or not, some of my life dilemmas got resolved without tension. They say when relaxed you are truly creative. I noticed, at the events like this I get so much of mental stimulation that ideas related and often unrelated to the topic of the occasion just pour out on me. I catch myself filling in the flyleaves of my notepad with the to-do’s and to-think’s….

The training was held at Indian Social Institute, a sort of typical Soviet research institution looking venue. Essentially the institution works with human rights and issues a monthly journal on the same. This used to be heavily subsidized, but, as one can make out by the decaying look of the venue, - not any more at present. Basically, the place is surviving by renting out its abundant capacities for low-budget events like ours or mass ones as the job interviews run by companies such as Infosys (IT and business consulting services; one of the most wanted Indian employers). Toilets are provided with liquid soap that, however, substantially mixed with water. I wonder who benchmarked whom – Soviet Railways or Indian research institutions... In the buffet they sell chai for 3.5 Rs, and samosas for 7 Rs. The menu is set up in plastic stencil letters on a big black board just above the counter, which indicates how viable the hopes for variety may be. The lunched was served in the canteen at the hostel of the same institute. The reception of the hostel has all the Soviet attributes: a mid-aged, not really happy with life lady, a wooden board with big keys on the massive trinkets, bedding arriving right to and distributed right from the reception. Here we get the coupons for the unpretentious lunch we were having at the unpretentious tables….

A little bit strange to find yourself in such settings after pompous WPC convention conducted a week ago at five-star Ashoka hotel at Chanakyapuri. Yet, the venue of Indian Social Institute seems more appropriate for activities arranged by an NGO. Appropriate does not mean more comfortable, but rather more feasible. Ironically the building of Indian Social Institute overlooks IHC – Indian Habitat Centre, located right nearby. The latter is a huge complex of accommodation, dining (at Eutopia food court for 2 samosas priced at 25 Rs), working (e.g., International Labor Organization is located here) and exhibition facilities. IHC is a well renown venue for the development-related activities. It is still a full mystery to me, however, how posh place and assumingly non-profit activities can go together. Probably, watery soap and seven-rupee samosas are not the greatest things to enjoy in this life, but they serve the purpose – development one – and do not sow the seeds of doubt regarding the commitment to the cause.

Challo Hindustan!!! Where?

At times I do not have time or patience to write a proper post and therefore I end up with some outlines destined to be stored in my laptop till better times. There is a decent amount of those drafts by now; and from time some relevant occasion may make me get back to a draft and revise it. So it happened with this one that I started on February, 2 and that got its second birth very recently.

……..

Today got to know about the book called “How the other half lives”. It was written by Jacob A. Riis in 1890 about the slums in New York where half of city population used to live at that time… I do not want to look like one of my teachers who was discussing the book “Why Russia is not America”: the chap got inspired by the title so much that it made him elaborate on why Russia is not the States for hours. Yet, when confronted with my question if he actually read the book he replied definite “no”. I haven’t read “How the other half lives” but I definitely love the title. It truly goes for India so well.

I spent this night at Kanak’s house in Chanakyapuri. This is an area where most of the embassies and governmental offices are co-located. The morning after I was walking to my bus-stop that was a bit away from the house and that was enough to grasp the essence of Chanakyapuri. It occurred to me there were way less pedestrians on the streets as people mostly drive Ambassadors or fancy foreign cars with blue diplomatic or “Government of India” number plates on wide and clean roads), no crying street vendors, no one-roomed food and snacks shops, no rush, less traffic. It did not resemble my Lajpat Nagar or any other area I pass on the way to work where people fight for right to live this day, making it through the crowds of people, clouds of dust and clutters of vehicles. Just last night I was telling Kanak that all the neighborhoods are the same (equally hectic and dusty) in this country. And I did not believe when Kanak replied, “Ooooo….They are not”. I got it this morning – neighborhood is not neighborhood.

Last night we had a party at a spacious, luxuriously bourgeois and desolate roof terraces at one of the houses in Chanakyapuri. The terrace filled with tubs with big and small pot plants around the periphery, The dust (oh, in this city no escape) naturally accumulates on the plants and the pots, and the botanic garden makes the whole terrace look even more colonial: the place is not meant for desperate cleaning, but for indulging a lazy smoke or resting in the hammock or throwing a party with a bonfire in the dark. This desolate terrace and the flat with very composite, very organic and very tasteful interior create the feeling of luxury – not a glossy one meant to make a statement, but the immanent and self-sufficient one that just exist and therefore does not have to manifest itself. Both the composite flat desolate terrace are having their own life – irrespective to the people living there – graciously letting the maid, who comes every morning, to clean them.

Kanak invited a bunch of AIESEC trainees and his Indian friends over. I got to socialize with some of the latter. This is not European hanging out, people, where you just move around and have a chat with anyone. I’ve been to quite a few Indian parties here and it was the first time at Kanak’s I got to speak to some guys who I met right here. Otherwise, gender special segregation persists. In the traditional North-Indian families where purdah (to put it really broadly – separation of worlds of men and women) is practiced women run their activities in a separate part of their house where men are hardly allowed. One might realized how strong the traditions are if even young guys in such metropolises as Delhi would shy away from the girls they do not know. And girls would most likely do the same; even when everyone gets introduced to each other. But the guy I was chatting with just got back from his exchange in Europe, so no wonder he picked up those liberal manners of meeting girls just like that. Another guy I got to speak to just got back from the States where he worked for 6-7 years.

The two returnees were having a vivid discussion that I joined too. And here the performance started. The one returned from the States said that when he had left country 6-7 years back there had been no job perspectives. And now he observes Indian economy truly rising and he is back to start up his own business. The other one, about to graduate, told that in the currently booming economy the situation with jobs had tremendously improved.

- So, is it like everyone gets job?
- Yes, absolutely everyone gets job.
- Have you already got job yourself?
- Yes, at GE Money.
- What is the package now like?
- Well, the package is really ok. I’ll get XXX per annum.
- And so on and so forth in the similar spirit

It is not only Indian economy that rocks, but Indian masculinity does too. Nothing wrong, just amusing to observe its harmless forms. But let me touch upon some other issue before I start elaborating on the “how cool and westernized we are” phenomenon getting so spread in India.

Discussions about booming Indian economy prevail in the discourse of middle and upper-class. Probably, because they are the most likely (if not – only) categories to enjoy the fruits on the boom. GDP growing at almost two-digit rate, abundance of construction sites (both residential and business), MNCs coming, BPOs (business processing units, product of outsourcing) mushrooming. All this changes have nothing to do with the millions of people making their living by running a small shop where they sell food prepared right here. Not only right here would they sell the food, but also would eat, sleep and take bath. As the “American” guy said, “We have so many people. So if some of them die, it’s ok. Well, we’ll get less maids in this case, but still.. ” If this is an opinion hold by people from the elite who have assumingly been around and got exposed to different societal models… then I seriously wonder what kind of future this country has.

This arrogance combined with a desperate try to appear as ultimately Westernized is, according to my observations, a disease affecting many people from the upper-class lot. Well, partly I can understand the pride of people who make some decent money and therefore can now afford buying shirts by Tommy Hilfiger, dining out at TGI’s Friday and clubbing at Elevate in Noida – these and many other, unthinkable before, but available now – blessings of the Western civilization. The same developments take place in Russia these days. Yet, what about those who would not even have an access to the emerged earning opportunities by the virtue of their social origin? This is not to say that driving a car bought by your dad and doing a job not at least obtained thanks to the network your uncle should not give you a pleasure and satisfaction, but al least you should not be mislead when elaborating on the prospects of the booming Indian economy. If your social position helps you to enjoy many of those, this is fine. Do not be ignorant of the fact it does not hold for many people. though. Look outside the window of your flat, your car, your office – can’t you see? Scared to see?

And when this arrogance gets coupled with “how cool and westernized we are” behavior it appears disgusting. As I foreigner I often become a witness of s small-scale performances held in this spirit in front of me. It is so evident when people, addressing you, change accent and melody of the language to sound British, overly British. When girls would be discussing various branded show-rooms (the way they call branded retail outlets here) giving meaningful looks your side. When an Indian guy or a girl would be roaming around with you and introducing you to the friends taking particular pride for socializing with a foreigner. I am lucky to have Indian friends for whom the very thought of such behavior would appear weird, but the mainstream remains the mainstream.

This makes me laugh as the irony is that I am not really worth the effort put in the performance. My laptop in the Samsonite bag, Diesel jeans, Mango t-shirt and Benetton bag should not be misleading. This is not any sort of luxury, this is a somewhat standard most Europeans can afford. There is no major statement coming with the wearing the mentioned brands as anyone else can do that too. Yet, here in India with my NGO-types salary I cannot afford the lifestyle Indian young people from middle and upper-class are having. And then the people who have got everything (else?) dieing to get a pair of Levi’s pants this is not even funny. Very pity instead, Inferior complex, it is called. One may talk about the perspectives of the booming Indian economy, but those talks are nothing but rending the air until Indian upper strata gets rid of the arrogance towards “the other half” and the inferiority complex towards the West.

Catwalk

Some nights a week I have to walk for 5-7 minutes from the internet café to my house. What makes it so worth mentioning is the fact the walk happens after 11 pm. This is the time all the nearby shops and parlors are already closed and the streets become desert. Yet, this does not make them completely free from men. Only men – you would hardly see any woman outside that late. I am not taking about pathetic hanging out places, I rather mean normal residential areas. So, still men are plenty – closing their shops, wandering around, riding their bikes and driving their cars. And when the night comes down the men here become braver. Can “more” exist at all? Well, by day the attention mostly comes as stares and attempts to rib against you when in a crowd. By night it’s all is there too, yet the stares turn from stares-on-the-way to standing-still-and-unscrupulous-staring. The verbal attention comes up too. “Hei sexy”, “Hei sweety, where shall I drop you?”; for less eloquent, but still talented individuals singing works. I obviously realize I violate the rules of women’s decency and modesty but showing up outside that late. And you, women, will be shown your place once you dare to break the rules. Put aside physical harassment, but even mental one would cool down your brave aspirations: getting all these stares and comments you would feel as a fallen women some hundreds years ago…….the one who got caught by her husband for an adultery and now walked to the pyre she’ll be burned at. With her arms and legs tied up with ropes she is walked though the endless streets of the town; and the people in the crowd shout swears, throw stuff, touch and punch her. So that to teach the lesson.

Indian summer?

I believe this is the high time to give a comprehensive and honest account on the heat in Delhi… Yes, I know for many of those enjoying the spring that is taking off at full power these days, it would be little bit difficult to understand, but I’ll try to explain.

It is 45 C (113 F) these days. Even by Indian terms it is quite hot for this time of the year. In fact, the heat started taking over already in early April. May and June in Delhi are supposed to be months of dry heat accompanied with dust storms now and then, but no rain. Mornings are comparatively good as the air has not yet warmed up till maximum. Noon and afternoon is not really a desirable time to go out: it doesn’t come down to sweating after every step, it’s about overall weakness. Last Sunday 2 friends and me had to undertake a sally to the market (5 minutes walk from home) around 2 pm – I sort of survived, but even if it did not cost me the friendship of these people they got majorily irritated. You feel the sun fills in the whole space around and there is nothing but warmed up air to breath in. No breeze and if it comes – no difference – it is also warm.

How do people manage? Well, believe me, they have developed a number of ways here. As you might imagine AC (air-conditioner) is the most effective mean to cool down. AC is very cool – truly! Essentially, everything around gets heated from inside. Even you yourself feel as a piece of a warm substance. Our flat is in the upper-most floor, so everything gets way too warm: plates in the cupboard, skirts in the cupboard, shampoo in the bathroom, books on the shelves, water running from the tap. I remember how 2 weeks ago Juan-Mi joked that while in winter we had to boil water to take shower now we would be adding ice-cubes instead. And just two days ago one of my flatmates started storing bottles of non-drinking water in the freezer for shower occasions. The other week we began putting our medicines and toiletries in the fridge to preserve those somehow. I myself would not mind hiding in the fridge for some time, frankly speaking. You are dieing to cool down and AC does its job well. If one condition holds – electricity must be there. Powercuts happen now and then and you never know for how long one might last. Also, AC (whether you are buying or renting one) is the most expensive option considering the rent and the electricity cost that sky-high once you use one. Thanks God, in the offices they have AC, so work is the place to be these days.

Fans are a cheap alternative to AC, yet still many venues are provided with both and both are in use when it gets warm. My room has a fan. So has every room in every house or office in India. Even semi-open-air shops and eateries would be provided with one… or two… In our flat we’ve been discussing the alternative of fixing a cooler (such a device that cools down apartment, works on water) or renting an AC. As we’ve got major troubles with water every now and then – not properly working pipes, broken pump, no water supply to the whole area etc – cooler would be too optimistic for us to think of. We opted for AC for each room, but decided to postpone getting them until it’s really hot. So, Daniela and Karoline have already got themselves an AC with a meter, as they could not sleep at all. The rest of us is still pushing their limits and we’ll see how far those would be pushed.

Juan Mi and me are still managing with the fan. It was him who suggested in the beginning we start increasing the power gradually so that we give our bodies a chance to cope with the coming heat on their own. We both can sleep without troubles. Today I got to speak to a girl who takes 5 showers in the night to soak the clothes she sleeps in: very truly, it’s a great relief to be in wet clothes under a fan. Yet, it is so warm that you get dry too quick. Thanks God, I do not take showers in the night – at least so far. But almost every morning I wake up sweaty (sleeping with no clothes on and covering with a light sheet). Earlier, I used to wake up coughing or not able to move my neck properly: the latter would mean there was no need to set up the fan so high. Also, before I used to be annoyed by the very sound of fan put on the highest speed – it gave me the feeling of huge uncozy waiting hall at a railway station. But as soon as you realize fan really helps you to sustain in this heat, you accept the drawbacks. And then, somehow, here you find yourself in two contradictory states at the same time. Either sweating should you get outside by day (oh my God, people wear jeans and long sleeve shirts – how come?) or even to come to your warmy-warm room that has been heating up the whole day. Or getting cold due to the ice cold, burning-your-mouth drinks you feel like having (at times, it feels like eating ice-cubes), cold showers you feel like indulging (no need in the boiler any more, water comes warm enough already from the heat-up pumps and even if it comes not that warm – even better for suffering you)…

It is rather dry and therefore dusty. We try not to keep the balcony door open– pointless anyway, only warm air is coming through, that one we’ve got plenty of. But if we do – our beds and anything in the room gets covers by a layer of dust very soon. My arms have got this color of tan mixed with some dust – none of the mixture components goes however hard I try with washing…

Indispensable sign of summer in India are power cuts and problems with water supply. Each deserves a word to be said about.

Power cuts happen now and then and vary from innocent leaps when your computer reloads all of a sudden (well, innocent unless you forget to save your files now and then) to the trying you patience short cuts when u start realizing that no more that 3 minutes you’ll manage without AC to actually those that truly challenge your stamina when for an hour or so you try to achieve the condition of homeostasis – no move, no breath in, no breath out… It is actually amazing to watch the whole market area without electricity: those shops with powerful generators carry on as nothing happened … the others are using candles… U feel the great survival spirit of the whole local community facing this sort of challenges on an everyday basis.

Water supply is yet another issue here. In the area where we stay water comes at certain point of time and gets collected in the tanks (separate for each apartment). Somehow we are never sure if there is something wrong with our pipes that have been troublesome for a couple of times already or none of our neighbors get any water either. There was this instance when we did not have water for 1,5 weeks. Then even washing… as if taking bath (washing clothes should be outsourced or postponed till better times) is a whole undertaking. And if you consider that you start sweating just once you raise your finger… you may wonder…. Well, now and then you can steal some water from neighbors’ tank. My personal achievement set at those days is to do the whole bathing (incl. washing hair and shaving) with 3-4 liters of water. What to do, man?... as they say here ;o)

Re-read… Looks like an account of big-time suffering and deprivation… No, I did not exaggerate the facts. Somehow you look at this differently once you find yourself in there. Ask people,. Many of them are having normal kind of life with some respective seasonal adjustments. But otherwise – no major pain….Your threshold of sensitivity is getting sky-high…

I remember one day Juan Mi just draw my attention to the fact it was already 42 C by day, so we’ve already done great job in the sense we did not realize how hot it was… It occurred to me it’s mentally safer not to think of the temperature hassles we face all the time. But once in a while – stop and think – you’ll get surprised with how much you can handle. It’s not like we are all cool people… I got seek the other day with heat influence as the most probable diagnosis. Even before and now – feeling of being tired, lazy, ever-sleepy, weak… is there.. I am sweating big time when writing these lines – I’d go and take my next warm shower.


PS

The night I wrote the post…. A major powercut happened… So, by 11-30 pm I was ready go to bed as there is hardly any activity but sleeping you want to pursue in the ultimate heat that fills in all the space around you. As I could not make any use of the plug-in mosquito protection I had to put on repellent cream that feels rather sticky on the skin. The power came in half an hour and along with it – a major relief. Around 4-30 I woke up because I realized the fan does not work any more… had to take shower with my small top and shorts on to get at least a little bit chilled. Otherwise, we do not suffer here….. ;o)

Crash course on communication

The other day I witnessed a conversation Rahul had with his boss. He realized there is not way to make it to work that night, so he called up the boss. The most of the talk was done in Hindi, yet I got the general overtone of it. With very serious and regretful voice, Rahul said it was 45C yesterday (true) and he got heat stroke and he is not well - taking medicines and all... Most probably, he said, I'll make it to work, but if I don’t u know what happened types...The last phrase he repeated a couple of times..... Once he hanged up the phone we laughed hard, as it was so obvious for everyone (incl. the boss) he was not coming to office that night....

For me, this is the ultimate example of the high context communication. In fact, there are two conversations going on – the one you hear, the explicit one and the one that is implied – and the latter obviously more relevant when it comes to meaning. Essentially, people do not mean what they say then. But the former is as important when the social relations are concerned. Smooth talk is an important element of face saving. You do not say, “I do not come to work because I have got something more exciting to do than you can offer to me“. You say, “Oh, see I ‘d love to come so much I am actually willing to do it despite I am so unwell”… Kind of a thing. Works fine once you know the system…I wanna learn…..

Forward planning in India

You come to work on Monday and notice some construction work going on nearby your office. A bit later you get to know that this construction in process has direct and major implications for the Internet and telephone lines in the area – both are not working.

You’ve got a research proposal to be developed this week that requires immense amounts of secondary information. Puzzle to figure out…. But you’d better not to plan anything – Internet might be back day after tomorrow or in some weeks… How would you know anyway?

Colombian-Russian surpise

Juan-Mi came to me with the Cheshire cat’s smile and said he had a surprise for me. The other day we burned some CDs with music from me, including a mixture of Russian songs. Right after he downloaded the Russian ones on his mp3 player to listen while cycling; and couple of times when I got home I realized it is so nice to hear Russian music when it is not even you who plays it. His definite favourite became Videli noch (originally by the cult rock singer V.Tzoi; remixed by Moldavian band Zdob si Zdub) – ultimately energizing gypsy-style song. He said he would love to get the lyrics from me….. So, getting back to his surprise… He played the song and sang along!!! I cried…. O my God, people, I did….. he got it so well!!!….. He’s got an amazing ear for sounds. I heard him repeating whatever phrases in Hindi very precisely without even understanding the meaning. He also imitates various sounds of musical instruments. Videli noch he got just perfectly right! Himself! Never in my life I saw so much determination coupled with a great talent!

What matters for women...

Another CSR event was coming on the 5th and 6th of May and my colleagues wondered if I am wearing sari again. According to their comments, I looked really nice in it. This was already good enough to trigger my thinking. Bharti and Sanghita said that cotton saree and some sort of chapels would make up for a nice summer formal look. I had just one night to figure out the dress and not much of that night either….I decided to explore the limits of Malvia Nagar market despite the latter did not make a promising impression at all… Just by walking little bit aside of my regular route I came across a very nice shop with cotton kurtas. The shop appeared a nice compromise between minimalistic Fabindia and carnival-like assortment of any market: nice cotton with very tasteful decorations. 250 for a long kurta and 150 for salwar pants made my kurta-fan colleague Piyali to proclaim her firm intentions to come down to Malvia Nagar for shopping. ASAP.



The question of salwar suit versus saree was resolved with ease: BOTH! The salwar suit was ready-to-wear for Friday and, naturally, with blouse to be stitched and the cloth for saree to be fixed saree was left for Saturday. Some time before, when I was looking for a second blouse for my first saree, I spotted a nice sari shop at Malvia Nagar market. So, this time I confidently headed there to ask for cotton sarees. For 340 Rs I bought a beautiful greenish blue cotton sari with cherry borders. Being a bit knowledgeable I asked to cut blouse from the cloth and to fix the bottom. They said I could collect my sari in two days, however I insisted on the day after. I already had a blue petticoat, but the blouse was still to be stitched by tomorrow night. I stopped by a tailor, managed to make them stitch the blouse by tomorrow night. I’ve already ordered a blouse for sari twice, so I knew what is important to mention (not to find a product of pure creativity by a tailor): lining or without, round or other-shaped neck, the depth of the neck, length of the blouse and sleeve, fastener in front and machine stitching, no hand made details. …

The next I picked up my saree (needless to say it was there waiting for me, I noticed it’s somehow in genes of the sellers here to make it look they are doing impossible for you:” it usually takse week, but for you just 6 days, mam” ;o)) The blouse came out well, but when I got there it was not ironed: the tailor tried to explain me that the fabric was too gentle to iron it (tailors have those medieval heavy metal irons). The tailor, his boss and me had a nice little discussion where I managed to convey that ironing is still possible through the other, more rough cloth; the boss said something in Hindi from which I made out only “customer satisfaction” and I sad “yes, customer satisfaction, so please”- ironing was done at the spot.

This was the fourth time I wore saree and I dared to warp it myself.. it appeared quite tricky with the stubborn cotton cloth… When I showed up at the conference (got to know from Piyali later) and a group of the colleagues spotted me my Director’s first reaction was “Someone go and help her”. However, when I approached then I heard “Very nice, you just need to fix the pleads”. Piyali made it anew and she appeared really good in it (Now I wonder when young girls give me all the compliments and add even they cannot put it one properly…… is it just another way to be sweet? The same trick works with sweets – there are always some available at very Indian house at any point or time. The hosts would be always ready to pack some for you saying “No one eats it, otherwise”…. Yet, the fact remains, there are always some sweets available at very Indian house at any point or time). My colleagues said later that it was so nice of me to try it myself though…. Yet, the pictures would document only the best part ;o)

Vishnu leaving

Vishnu was away traveling to his home place in Andhra Pradesh for some time. Once back he told me we should meet the next day as his mamaji (uncle, the one I met at Neelima’s wedding) from Chennai is coming down to Delhi. I asked Vishnu about his flight (as if when) but he would never reply. Vishnu was studying and now working in the UK: he came down to India for his sister’s wedding and I was so happy he could stay one month longer. So, the next day he picked me up and brought to the place where the others were waiting. Only then he told me the flight was the night after. Bah!!!…… However, it was a very cozy night with the dear people who had shared some great moments together.. He promised to be back in January 2007 and I’ve got something to look forward to.

I got to know Vishnu when Anoop and Nivanthee invited me to join them and a bunch of their friends for a movie. Since that Rang De Basanti has become a point of reference for our friendship. At the same occasion I got invitation to Neelima’s wedding and that is how I got to spend some time with the whole family of Vishnu and Neelima.

Favorite and a true pride of the whole family (especially it’s female part) he knows he is granted an unlimited credit for making whatever pranks. The most prominent one he made with me was….. We were talking about birthdays and I (now I think I did) I mentioned that mine is on the 10th of April. He exclaimed, “No, I cannot believe it”. “What?” I asked. He said, “My birthday is on the 10th of April”. It was my turn to say, “No, I cannot believe it”. Nivanthee confirmed with nodding. I got so hilarious as I never in my live I met anyone born on the same date. On the way back to Delhi I brought up the issue with Nivanthee and she told me, “Olga, listen. On the first place, his birthday is on the 12th of August. This is just Vishnu, the way he is”. Seriously disappointed I later got back to him so to ask why… He replied that at least thanks to the prank I would not forget him. No, Vishnu, I would not ;o) I remember how at the wedding I asked him where I could get gift paper to pack my present for Neelima. He promised to get it for me. Day by day the last night of the wedding came and I was still inquiring… We all were outside seeing off some people; he was roaming around in the shirts. I was so pissed off with him being so irresponsible as I really needed to warp my present and there was no way to get the paper from elsewhere at that late hour. Why would anyone promise something he does not have to offer?!!! All of a sudden we took the gift paper from the trunk of the car and said naughty on purpose, “Olga, come and take it”’. Still pissed, but relived I told Neelima and Girija-ji (their mother), “What a son and brother you’ve got”. And Girija-ji just blandly smiled looking at him and said with affection “Naughty boy”. At that time I realized Vishnu is hopeless ;o) He knows he is admired and what would you do with a guy who knows that whatever he is doing he is loved and accepted.

Yet, there is a difference between being in family settings and being with friends, or just people. I remember how astonished I was when he quickly got along with my flat mates and then the friends we were parting the whole night with. Very humble and respectful, very interested in people, the one who would go for miles for you but would not let you even raise your finger. He was the one to take care of pictures at whatever occasions we had. “Olga, have you taken your camera?” was his question whenever we would meet. And if my answer was “no” his camera-phone was there to take the snaps. This way I got amazing pictures of me – something I almost gave up about here ;o) He is the one who made me believe in Athithi Devo Bhava. Yes, his “oh my God!” pronounced with deliberately British ascent, “I love attention” T-shirt with a funny yellow duck, the purposeful naughty looks we would exchange once in a while and his little pranks are still there. However, now I can tell why he gets the credit to do this. In fact, this credit he is getting from me too…