I have lived in Hyderabad for 10 days now and have spent a complete day just sitting in a car. 30 hours in my Tata Indica with my driver, Satyam.
I don’t think Americans will ever appreciate what the Indian driver experiences on the roads here, until seeing first hand the chaos. Uncle told me a story this morning about a US professor who came to Hyderabad to teach a course. Halfway through his stay, he admitted to his fellow colleagues that he came to India an Atheist, but will be leaving a religious man, as he found no explanation besides God on how the traffic in this city manages to work with such little casualty to civilians. I agree 100% with him, it is a perfect example of organized chaos.
Here is a video to give an example of the road rules in India.
I haven’t decided on the most efficient way to spend 3 hours of daily commuting. Most of the time is spent in a language struggle with Satyam, either trying to understand him, or trying to tell him something. Still, he probably understands me more than most people. He tried to cheer me up after the church incident, and has explained to me his philosophy on life, wealth, happiness.
When I asked him if he enjoyed living in Hyderabad, he responded to me “Sir, it is who I am.” A year ago, his wife fell ill with a disease that has had her in bed for 4 months, in and out of the hospital. He told me about past jobs that hes been at, hoping to get to a comfortable situation in life where he can work hard, but yet have no problem providing for his family. Yesterday, I realized that he had some hopes in working for me that might not have been too realistic. He clearly has no idea what my business is, but assumed I had come to start an IT company in India. He asked me for a job in in my company, saying that he could be a watchman or do work with our office building, and said he would be willing to do anything, or learn how to do anything. He is constantly trying to sell real estate to me that he doesn’t own, which is just hilarious. One time he asked I would hire him as my driver back in the US so he could immigrate to America. I responded jokingly, telling him that the US roads could not handle his driving ability.
Satyam’s son is 8 years old, speaks perfect English, and his father hopes to send him to college so that he can work in one of the large IT buildings. I recently heard that the majority of people in the city are really confused about the IT buildings in the city. They can’t understand what is being built inside them, but still continue to romanticize the thought of their children someday working inside them.
The most interesting thing of my stay so far has been trying to understand the thought process of people here. It is not my place to judge whether or not their beliefs and customs are right or wrong, but I think the first step in my understanding of them is to embrace the differences. Keeping an open mind over here is critical to any foreigners survival – I can just picture the danger of slipping up just once, and letting personal beliefs cause conflict with locals.
Uncle told me an incredible story this afternoon. We were sitting down and going through his grandson’s wedding album and he turned to a page of him and a friend blessing the married couple. He told me that it was his best friend for 60 years, who ironically has the same name. They talk everyday and I was surprised to hear about their history as social activists. He told me that early in their youth, they would have noble thoughts and one day decided to make a social statement and both get married to widowed women.
I would have thought nothing of this, but I had just read an article about the abuse and alienation widows in India can experience. Thankfully this is horrible mentality is fading away. Uncle told me that his friend and him were disgusted with how the women were shaved, deprived of good clothing and food, just because their husbands had expired. He said that his friend and him did this break a tradition that he knew were wrong. It was a touching story, which I may not done justice in trying to recap on this blog.
Chaotically,
-Jason
I had one electrical converter in my possession, which connects me to the Internet, media entertainment, photography and videography equipment, and the telephone, and I have lost it! So for tonight I have just 24 minutes to update the blog. The past 2 days have been incredibly busy. I have immersed myself in this project, and building a positive relationship with my technology partner out here. In the coming 3 weeks, the project will undergo a blueprinting process, where we identify all the possible features and applications that will go into the site, prioritize them, lay out a visual design for organizing the information while simplifying the entire customer flow, and presenting this information in a testable format that we can get qualitative research with before executing any development work. To add to this challenge, I have created a mini project that will have the team do individual competitive testing on relevant sites, introduce them to the US market for the industry we are entering, and consolidate findings into an actionable presentation that we can incorporate into our qualitative research as well as our list of priorities for our engineers… I apologize if that was all jargon and incredibly boring, as I don’t know exactly who is reading this, but after a few comments felt I should say something about what I am doing, besides the embarrassment of my everyday Larry David like actions.
I picked up a new book, by Donald Norman called “The Design of Everyday Things.” I met Mr Norman at a Guy Kawasaki speech in Silicon Valley a few months ago, and he seemed to have built up quite the street cred, so when I saw his book on sale in a small book store in Secunderabad for just 300 Rupees, I had to pick it up. In addition, I picked up a few ancient Sanskrit written stories (now in English) which Uncle has referred to in his Brilliant stories of political and ethical lessons during our daily conversations. Ramayana, Mahabharata, and Bhagavad Gita are all on my 4 month reading list during this tenure. I am also fascinated with learning about the Nawabs and the incredibly wealthy Nizam of Hyderabad. As I dive into them, I may from time to time refer to them, as I have a tendency, as Alex Grabowski will tell you, to try to transcribe stories into real life situations. According to Uncle, these stories have been heavily incorporated into German Politics, as there 5000 year old tales still apply to life today. I can’t comment as of yet, but am excited to learn.
I will be adding a video of this city soon this week, as I am excited to use my mac for video editing again. Stay tuned for that and pictures (yes, including my driver Satyam) to come soon.
A few interesting facts…I saw today that India’s retail market is projecting at being valued at nearly 1,200,000 crores, with less than 4% of it attributed to organized retail.
Weird News Story Update! (Below)
An Indian businessman accused of several bank scams swallowed a
knife to avoid being brought back to India for trial. He refused surgery as doctors said it could be fatal to fly with a knife in his stomach. The authorities finally caught up, however: bringing him back on a plane full of medics. The knife is still lodged in his gut. (courtesy of
http://truemors.com)
Best,
Jason
5:30 am – my driver pounds on my door to remind me of my plans to go to the only English catholic service in the church in my area…. damnit!
I had mentioned to him that I would like to meet some English speaking folks in the area, so I planned on an early Sunday morning. I arrived at the 60 year old church about 10 minutes early, so I decided to go in and spend some time collecting my thoughts, and catching up on sleep. At this particular church, shoes were not allowed inside, so I had to leave my dress shoes outside, where it was raining.
Just as the service started, I was suddenly publicly scolded by an elderly woman in a sari, who spoke no English, but just made hand gestures at me and yelled at me in Telugu. I genuinely tried to understand her communication, but gave up a few minutes into the confrontation and put my head down and shrugged. I hoped she would lose interest and let me be. Moments later, an nun informed me that I had to move immediately. I had been sitting in the women’s side of the church!
I turned around at once (I was sitting in the front row) and noticed a complete gender segregation of the church. Slightly embarrassed, I got up and moved to a row on the men’s side. A group of 5 men simultaneously stood up, shook there heads and quickly left the row to move elsewhere. Perhaps I had offended them with my unintentional attempt of trying to break the local custom. It was then the fear of my possible demise in this city out of arrogance and ignorance became apparent.
The priest spent an hour speaking of being humble, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the several men who let me embarrass myself. At least they could have warned me during the 10 minutes I sat praying in the women’s side of the church, like the outstanding catholic that I am. On a side note, the music at this service was particularly interesting. They had a keyboard with drum beats that resembled techno or trance music in the background of the hymns and songs, which people were singing completely off key, but loud. I found it ironic that such music, which I have only experienced in Ecstasy filled clubs and beach parties was played in such a sacred place, where I was forced to remove my shoes, and sit only with men, (some of which refused to sit anywhere near me)
I form no judgment on today’s events – I was in the wrong. Hyderabad- 1, Jason – 0. Upon returning home, I engaged in a 2 hour series of stories from Uncle, who taught me ancient Hindu tales and how they have been used in modern politics both in India and around the world, especially Germany – completely fascinating. Out of frustration with my constant disruption of the social norms in this area, I told my driver to go home and hang out with his boy, and decided to spend the day in solitude writing and reading, and let Hyderabad carry on without me this Sunday afternoon.
Most humbly,
Jason
There’s much to be said about the first impression a city like Hyderabad leaves on a curious mind. I am approaching my third night here, and my senses are going wild with the abrupt change in environment, local customs, and internal adjustments I am trying to make to survive.
First of all, I feel like Bill Murray in “Lost in Translation.” I fear that my 
English will begin to deteriorate as this trip goes on, as I have found that most people here can’t understand my accent no matter how slow i try to speak. I am quickly learning which words are not understood by the locals, and how combining groups of words usually spoken in the US will just leave a person completely perplexed over here when spoken to. *Note – people don’t respond well to “take it easy.” I learned that immediately.
Yesterday I picked up a book called “Learn Telugu in 30 days.” I doubt that I will learn anything more than a few phrases, but it might help my correspondence on the street much easier instead of trying to teach the 7 million people in this city how to speak “American.”
I am staying in a guest room in a huge mansion located outside of a jungle. The owner of the house, the grandfather of a close friend, is extremely intelligent, well spoken and enlightened in politics, business, and world affairs. After just a few days he opened up to me on a very personal level, building a lasting friendship and mentor-like relationship. Even though our dialogue is challenged by differences in language and pronunciations we are able to communicate at a deep level. I admire this uncle, and hope to be able to repay him for the hospitality he has shown me, providing me a home for 4 months.
The hour and a half journey to my office in Banjara Hills is traveled in my luxurious Tata Indica, its nearly the size of a Mini Cooper but lacks all the sportiness. My driver, Satyam, is a family man, claiming that he is trying to provide a better life for his 8 year old son. He is working to save up for his own chauffeuring business. I suppose that I gained his loyalty as a friend, guide, and servant immediately by shaking his hand and talking to him about his family and hobbies. This was an approach none of his former boss’s used and he was shocked, telling me that if i ever needed anything, to call him, anytime.
He told me how his father died at an early age, and that he started working at 14, and had to pass on an education that limited his job scope. He is always talking about how he wants me to get into real estate here, in his broken English, and has been an incredible tour guide, showing me the old buildings, land marks, and telling stories of the freedom fighters, the British empire, and the Nawab, the king that my grandfather worked as consigliare for. His stories take time, but are fascinating, pure, and honest. On the drive home today, he stopped at a book store to show me a book on how to learn Telugu, the local language. I purchased the book, and also bought a book that teaches English to those who speak Telugu to return the favor. If anything, the 3 hours we spend in the car together might turn into free lessons on the language, as I read and study this book. The image of me being chauffeured around in this specific car is comedy, I promise.
Other notable observations are the extremely cheap services available, such a a $2 haircut at a top salon, and a $.50 professional shave at a proper barber shop. Of course, it seems impossible to have any services like that done by a female if you are a male. Some of the work out facilities have separate times for women and men to work out in as well. In fact, I think I have seen 5 men for every woman i have seen in the city so far, total. There is a cow at every street corner, traffic is ridiculous, as the city operates in the most bizarre form of organized chaos. Crossing the street takes a pair, as you just blindly walk in front of cars going 40 mph, trusting that they will swerve to the right to avoid you. I haven’t learned the uses of the several forms of honking either, but there is a never ending soundtrack to the city of these honks. There is thousands of shops on the city streets, that operate incredibly fast…people in this city are generally quicker than most.
Finally, I must comment on a personal struggle I am facing. I really hope to get through this trip without any confrontation with my nemesis. Since the age of 9, I have had a phobia for snakes. (all kinds of snakes, poisonous or not) Before traveling here, my roommate thought it would be funny to make me watch “the 10 deadliest animals of India.” I break out into cold sweat, and lose a majority of my motor skills when close to the creature, sometimes even when just looking at the horrid things on TV.
Well, living outside the jungle, I am neighbors with the snake, and it crossed over the wall into my living quarters this evening, as reported by the little boy yelling up the staircase to warn me. With courage and luck, I hope to avoid any Jungle Book-like situations with the legless devil creatures.
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