Indian Karaoke is something that will always be dear to my anglo–indian/goan heart.
A few years back, joined by uncle in Karaoke bar in Bandra (Bombay) I serenaded the prettiest girl in the watering hole that night, to a tune which Tom Cruise brilliantly lip sang in a bar….”You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling”- Righteous Brothers. The duet was a hit, and the delivery couldn’t have gone better. Like George in Seinfeld’s “The Burning”, I decided to leave on a high note, and avoid the Japanese custom, which is translated to “empty orchestra,” for nearly 3 years, following Jerry’s advice: “Showmanship, George. When you hit that high note, you say goodnight and
walk off……That’s the way they do it in Vegas.”
Tonight, after being invited out to Hyderabad’s own “Ten Downing Street” – TDS as the locals call it, I was forced to take the mic up one more time. It may have been a pretty site, but it sounded awful. I was not too thrilled about singing karaoke without a wing man, my uncle in Bombay fills that void without a problem, but tonight, none of my table guests were willing to humiliate themselves. So I took the plunge alone, requested the song I knew I could win the people’s hearts with….after all the original singers of the song overdosed on Cocaine in a hotel in my hometown of Kalamazoo not too long ago – the least I could do was sing their song in my new home of Hyderabad.
The problem with Karaoke lay not in the vocalist, I am convinced. I can sing along to any song I know on the radio without missing a beat, maybe a few notes here and there if it is a Mariah Carey song, but I am confident that I can hold my own. No, my problem with this skill is having to adjust to video of a song when the timing of the highlighted words go off. Totally throws of my perception, and my sense of tone in consequence, resulting in sounds I would not wish upon anyone. That is exactly what happened tonight. There is nothing worse as a karaoke artist, than when the song starts skipping. At least the chorus came and I regained my composure leaving the song with some dignity, but I was secretly hurting inside….My street cred from Bombay 2 years back was no longer.
Some commentary on the night otherwise. The song selections were quite funny. Mostly slow love songs like “Lady in Red” and “Dream Dream Dream.” A few of my favorite songs, that have played in Indian parties without a fail for the past 20 years included “Coma coma coma coma coma Chameleon, they come and go, they come and go oh oh oh.” and “Give me Hope, Johanna”
One of the fellows in this pub tonight was heavy into gangster rap. He rapped the Puff Daddy part over Stings”Watching you” even though they monitor did not display them. He busted out 50 cent’s “In The Club.” Alanis Morresette’s annoying voice has plagued me in every bar since getting to India, and tonight, although her voice was replaced with some British woman’s, it just made things worse. I loathe the song “Ironic”
To conclude the night recap, I admit that I was not as considerate as I could have been been. My guilty feet walked me over to a man with no rhythm and stole the mic away for the last song of Karaoke at TDS. In tribute to my friend back in the US, who worships George Michaels, and has been known to rock the song “Careless Whisper,” I hijacked the stage and put some much needed soul into this classic. I believe George Michael has gone down a tough road recently, a few trips to prison in addition to his semi tarnished reputation overall. I still think we owe him a thank him, at least a mach3, for sharing this song with us. I want to believe that the crowd at TDS thanked me for sharing the song I selfishly stole from another with them tonight. The highlight was when the host of the night did a memorable harmonizing bit with me at the end during the words “now that your gone.”
I believe that I did redeem myself tonight from the earlier performance, leaving the night on top, like Costanza. It will take a lot of convincing for me to change this status, and take the mic again, but then again I am off to Bombay tomorrow.
Carelessly,
Jason
The Games Indians Play
I continued the Expat experience tonight by attending an event hosted by TEA (Twin City Expat Association) The evening was spent in a gated community, called Whisper Valley. I came to know from a friend who’s uncle built the subdivision that this was the first gated community in the entire country.
The speaker at tonight’s event, V Raghunathan gave a brilliant presentation on the Indian mentality. His book, “The Games Indians Play†appears to be an economic study of the Indian mentality, using concepts from game theory and the prisoner’s dilemma to explain why things are done the way they are here. He claims not to be a reformist, however his book is meant to inspire change of his people, so that Indian’s can be a true force internationally.
He pointed out that many of the problems India faces, including corruption, water supply, garbage removal, and a general distrust from international trade is because of short sightedness as well as not enforcing public policy. He claims that Indians in general are very intelligent, however they make decisions that will benefit them in the immediate future, versus for long term satisfaction. He used the example of game of chess, and the difference between lightning chess and the conventional form of the game. In a fast paced chess match, the players only consider a few moves ahead, while in a slow, conventional form of the game, moves are thought out several steps in advance. While this mentality is good for the individual, he claimed that it has very negative consequences for the larger population.
Without going into too much detail about the various examples he spoke of, all which I have seen here first hand, I would encourage you to read this book. He is a very intelligent, highly articulate speaker, and his words really hit home for me tonight. One of the more humorous parts of the talk was discussing an insurance company in Bombay for people who ride the train. There is an actual company that charges a small fee per customer who ride the trains in Bombay, for the unusual situation where they are caught riding the train without a ticket. This insurance company will pay the fine for the illegal rider. Since the enforcement of this policy is so poor, the insurance company makes out with a profit, as they rarely pay out, and the riders get extremely cheap transportation, as their monthly insurance fees are much less than the cost of the ride. Take that on for size State Farm.
Tonight’s talk got me really interested in Game Theory. An example was given which talked about a hypothetical case where Bill Gates decides to give away $1 billion to a lucky person. The method for giving this money away is a strange one however, and involves writing letters to 20 people around the world. The letter congratulates each recipient as being one of the only 20 people considered for this donation. The recipients are given a list of 3 steps on how they will be able to receive the $1 billion.
Step1: Write back to Mr. Bill Gates, to inform him that you would like to receive the money.
Step2: Do not attempt to contact or track down any of the other 19 recipients. If you attempt to make such efforts, Gate’s team will find out and you will be disqualified.
Step3: You must be the only person to write back to Bill Gates. If any of the other 19 people, even just 1 other person writes a response, no one will receive the prize.
This dilemma is a curious one, as it is highly unlikely that Bill Gates will have to part with the money. Human tendency suggests that each person will likely take the chance of mailing a response, as they have nothing to lose by doing so. At an individual level, they are satisfied with this, as they would rather attempt to receive the prize than to let someone else get it by deciding to not send a response. They are all equally as intelligent in this scenario, and would rather screw the entire group over, than be screwed over themselves, by letting just 1 person write a response and receive the prize. So, what to do in this situation?
V Raghunathan tonight suggested that if each of the 20 recipients put 20 numbers in a bowl, guessing a number which if picked out at random would be the only way they would write back to Mr. Gates, the entire group would have a 38% chance of getting the prize, and at the end of the day the money would be donated rather than retained by Bill Gates.
I found this very interesting. He claimed that this mentality starts to explain the Nuclear arms build up between India and Pakistan, it explains how everyone is in a hurry here, even in holy temples causing fights, the frequency of running red lights and disregarding traffic laws, the low water pressure from everyone getting water pumps, eventually bringing the water pressure back to the origin, before the first guy discovered he could use his own water pump, only to be followed by his neighbor and their neighbor and so on and so forth.
Perhaps it explains why I got in a shouting match with the owner of Paradise restaurant, coincidentally the best Biryani in town. I ordered a Mutton Biryani for my driver, and 2 naans and Chicken Tikka Masala for myself. I heard my order called out and went to claim it, but was told I was in the wrong part of the restaurant. (They called the area “parcel pick up.†Ten minutes later a Muslim man, with a cigar in his mouth came up to me and took my receipt, bringing me back just the mutton biryani. When I asked him about the rest of the order, he pointed to my receipt saying that was all I had. I told him I had certainly ordered more food, and had payed 3x what the receipt was showing. The cashier came over to see what the fuss was about, and denied that I had payed him 200 rupees, which really took the cake. The owner pulled me aside, and insulted me, accusing me of trying to cheat the restaurant, and even taking my receipt from inside the dining hall and trying to use it to get free takeaway. I was outraged, and started to lose my temper, which is not a good thing, when just then a delivery boy called out my order again, “One Chicken Tikka Masala, one Mutton Biryani, and two Naan’s. Since it was an unusual order, it was quite obvious it was mine, as I had pleaded with him the previous 10 minutes that I had ordered that very combination. He finally gave in, gave me my food, and without apologizing for insulting me, told me “Sir, this is the system here, get used to it.†I held back every inclination I had of dumping the chicken tikka on his head and knocking that god damn cigar out of his mouth, and choked out the words, “No worries, it happens.†After all, this place does make the best biryani in town.
I think this was a good case of the Indian mentality, always assuming someone is trying to screw them over. Tit for tat, V Raghunathan called it, when people only remember their last encounter with someone, and make the decision to either cooperate, or defect for future dealings. This restaurant owner probably dealt with people trying to get free food from him, the place is always packed, and they do tremendous business, likely get ripped off once and a while by receipt scams. Guilty till proven innocent in a way, was the way I was treated. No “The Customer is always right†thoughts go on in food establishment like this. Perhaps, he was trying to defect on his deal with me recognizing my foreign accent, just like the cowardly chicken 65 guy. We will see what happens next time I go to Paradise, I think I am going to start sending my driver to pick up my food, these encounters are eventually going to end in something bad.
I don’t remember if I mentioned this, but I rehired Satyam. He showed me his wife’s medical history, which couldn’t have been faked since it traced back with official stamps over 7 years, it was quite depressing to see. I trusted that his owner had screwed him over in the deal, the demand is just not high enough to pay guys like Satyam a decent salary to be a driver anymore. I am paying the difference, and even loaned him 2000 rupees so that he could buy new clothes for his family for the current festival, a 10 day celebration where there are a few days you are supposed to wear only new outfits when joining your friends and family in celebration. His wife’s hospital bills made it impossible for him to do this, and I could see the regret in his eyes when he asked me for the money. He is far too old for this life of a driver, he has shown me moments of loyalty, such as when I left my wallet in the car going to subway, and had to cross the busy street to get back to it. Within seconds, he noticed my uneasiness of crossing the street and came running out with the wallet, telling me not to move, and confidently walking across the street to get it to me. After I finished my meal of two 6inch chicken tikka subs (they don’t sell foot longs here, and have different counters for veg and non veg orders), Satyam ran out once again and cross the road with me, standing between me and the coming traffic. It was a gesture, though small, that meant a lot to me, and made me thankful I brought him back.
Now, I want to pose a question to you Americans back home. Why is our economy so bad? This was asked to me by a Belgian guy at the Expat mixer. He got very passionate about the subject matter, and American’s over consumption, spending money they don’t have, and starting wars with countries for no reason etc. He started yelling about it to me at this event, perhaps for excess alcohol consumption, and I reminded him that he was standing on a patio of a majority American population and that he might want to take it easy. It was uncomfortable for us both, I agreed with his dislike of the Bush regime, but also reminded him that he has never been the US, and shouldn’t generalize the entire population of people from the little information he has. He felt really bad about his venting, and apologized to me. I told him there was no need for an apology, I am certainly not a politically correct person, and I appreciated his honesty, though unrefined, over fakeness and insincerity. I am starting to have an identify crisis though, as I don’t want to be associated as just another American as its not the best reputation to have internationally (found that out immediately during my stay in Europe), I am not accepted yet as an Indian, and for the most part am cool with that as I feel like a jack ass for not knowing the mother tongue. On top of this I was told by my cousin in Australia that I have developed a strange Indian accent through my 2 months here so far. As my Uncle Ferdie nicknamed me 2 years ago in Middlesex, England, perhaps I am just The Wanderer.
-Jason
After the booze cruise, I took a few days of seclusion to do something completely random. I left the dust filled city and spent the day in the wild. I left Hyderabad at 4am for the temple of Lord Shiva in Srisailam and had no idea was to be in store for me. All I knew was that I had my trusted friends, Sainik and Sumpath, who we call Pilot (he is a pilot) at my side to experience this adventure.
Hours earlier, I was doing the booze cruise, getting back in touch with a side of me I thought I left in NYC, but before the sun could rise, I remembered where I was, and had a thrill of the path I was heading on. I have never spent more than a few hours at a time in a car in India, so this 6 hour trip really put me in my place. There was no more need for AC, as we were cruising with the windows down at a hot pace of 55mph, by far the fastest I have gone in a car here. I have no idea why Indian highways are full of speedbumps, or why the roads don’t give warning when approaching one.
The original plan was to leave the night before and not drive at 5am, but we found out that a 3 hour strip of the road is closed down after 6pm every day. Why would a major highway from one of the largest cities in the world to such a holy place visited by thousands of pilgrims shut down after sunset? Any guesses?
How about Tigers, Elephants, Sloth Bears, and tribals -yes, vicious tribals. Communist ones.
This week I made my way into the back country of India, the jungle. My friend Jake Thayer once nicknamed me Mowgli on a camping trip in Michigan, after I climbed a tree, and swung from a hose ties to it into a lake we were canoeing on. The name sort of just stuck with our friends, and though some might be offended by such a name, I sort of took pride in it, as I used to watch The Jungle book daily between the ages of 4-7.
Similar to the book, the Indian Jungle has a sense of mystery and uncertainty to it. I couldn’t help but let my mind imagine how many dangers presently lay in store for me. I must say, that the thought of it it is a bit of a natural high. We jumped off the main road when we saw our first tiger. This 30 footer symbolized the entrance of a road that would eventually take us into the deepest part of the jungle any man had gone before. (at least in my mind) I grabbed my battery-deprived camera, took a picture with the animal statue, hoped it was the closest I would get to the real thing, and jumped into the the SUV cleverly named “Tiger Patrol.”
As we speed deeper and deeper away from the Tata Indica, and into land never traveled before by a westerner I started seeing monkey’s all over the place. These monkey’s look a bit sick, red faced, shameless, and not as smart as the monkey’s I hear about. They will steal your watch if you aren’t careful though. After about 10 minutes of staring into the trees, hoping to see some orange, we came across another SUV. This vehicle had been abandoned for several hours. I looked around for traces of human life, a turban or some chuppels (sandals) at least but found nothing of the sort. Of course, it was well explained to the group in Telegu that the vehicle ran out of gas the night before, and the passengers had to walk 3 miles in the Jungle, right at the 6pm closing time to get back to the road. With God’s good graces, Shere khan did not have these people for dinner, and they survived. We grabbed a tank of water from the car and continued our conquest.
I have heard of dangerous tribals, who decide toreject civilian life, and organize terrorist attacks that kill tourists. They run highly profitable smuggling businesses and constantly plot to take over Indian politics. These people are frequently sent to their maker by the many snakes and predators in the jungle. We rode by the Nazim’s hunting getaway house and soon made it to the most beautiful view in Andra Pradesh. We were standing next to a house that looked like an ancient artifact of the region, looking out at miles of jungle thousands of feet below us.
Then I noticed our vehicle was no where in site. Perhaps the driver felt the obligation to run an errand while I was on a Tiger Safari, leaving me and my friends out to dry if we were lucky enough to see what we had come to see. The only thing that helped our chances was that there were only 6 known tigers in the region. The tiger population here is unfortunately nearly extinct.
We played around this ruined house for a while, waiting for the driver to return. I felt more secure being 40 ft in the air, without a ledge or sturdy floors than I did on the ground with the reptiles and man eating cats below me. I did get weak in the knees at one point, and decided it was best to avoid such a silly fatality, and get back down to earth and take my chances with nature. Nature vs Nurture, Nature always wins. (Wedding Crashers)
Finally the car showed up, and we got in. My Telegu tour guide told us that the house used to be a guest house for tourists, because of the beautiful view, but the local tribals decided to bomb it only 3 years ago. I was shocked. These people were still around, and I am just glad I didn’t do anything to draw their attention today.
Unfortunately/Fortunately The ride back was tiger-less. We did see more monkey’s and even a group of deer, who had no fear of human interaction. Eventually made it to the temple. It is customary to remove shoes and I burned the most of the nerves off my feet during the 4k walk on black pavement to get there from the car. I was a bit ticked off to see that I was one of the few people to remove my shoes, as there was a local business that stored your shoes for you when you went inside the temple. The walk back proved to be worse, but I refused a piggy back ride from my 130lb driver.
The temple was fascinating, a lot of things going on. Long lines – you can’t escape crowds in India unless you decide to take mother nature on a date. The temple was built in the 1500’s, part of it was completely made of gold, and people were offering all of their hair on their head to the Lord Shiva in prayer. I have never seen so many bald men and women in one place. I was asked to shave my head, but I didn’t think it would be a good look for me at this point of my life. Apparently the hair collected at this temple, and others especially in Tirupati is a huge business for trade with Europe and the West. The temple in Tirupati collects a ridiculous amount of money ($300 million per year) through offerings made by the 20 million hindu pilgrims. For a business with very little overhead, its surprisingly a global phenomenon, started in the 60’s. The money is used for public affairs, people in Tirupati get a free place to stay for one night on their trip.
My first trip to a Hindu temple was met with a violent encounter. 2 Men got in a fight in the temple over their spot in line, starting hitting and pushing each other. I don’t understand everyone’s hurry. I live by the words in the movie Goodfella’s : “Pauli might have moved slow, but that was just because Pauli didn’t have to move for anyone.
I really enjoyed the beauty of India today, risked my neck, kept my hair and spent some time with the guys, who just enjoy their religious get aways from time to time. Beats the cement jungle any day.
-Mowgli
Hello,
First of all, for anyone that has been avidly reading my blog, I apologize. I have become totally infatuated with this city called Hyderabad, and have forgotten all about you.
That aside, tonight, I remembered you. Amid the collar popping, 3 open button down wearing, skirt flaunting, and snoop dog playing “drop it like its hot” crowd, I found you. I missed you.
Tonight I went on a fantastic, yes fantastic booze cruise.
Days before I was lucky to get sunburned to a crisp watching India play Australia in cricket.
As we speak, I have just had an intense confrontation with a guest in my humble abode. While watching the movie Hyderabad Blues, (more on this later) my eyes left the brilliant screen on my macbook for just a moment and landed on a reptile scaling my walls ever so suspiciously. The lizard, which was about a foot long, moved from one side of the room to the other before I could conclude my pathetic reaction. The fact that I had headphones on, probably contributed to the volume, but all I could think about the whole time was “Snake.” After consulting with a friend back in the US, who this room actually belongs to, I realized that I was under no threat of attack from the creature, and it would probably produce the same results as a night of taking my malaria tablets. Nonetheless, there was no way I could fall asleep with this stranger hiding behind my clock tonight, my Malaria pills main side effect involve some of the strangest, most vivid dreams I have experience.
Funny enough, this was my second encounter with a new animal. This morning, I went to my car, and was approached by 2 solid looking buffalo. These animals definitely own the road here, and they are not intimidated of humans. They in fact will nudge a gate of a house open, and make their way right into living area. See below.
I will try post a picture of the gang of dogs that usually hangs out in this area. They also pose a threat, as they roll 6 or 7 deep. Stray dogs are all over the place here.
Yesterday I saw two fellows riding camels passing by a store that said Kamel on it. I was so close to getting the picture, but unfortunately an Autorick got in my way just as I was able to get my camera ready. Just a few blocks from there, and my office, supposedly a wild cheetah found its way onto the streets and attacked numerous civilians. I have been suspicious that one of the early morning noises might be coming from a large cat in the jungle, potentially a Cheetah. I started going on my terrace with a camera to try to get a better look on what is going on there, but haven’t had much luck, will keep you posted though if this changes.
I see a lot of similarities with this place, and the cement jungle I was living in a few months ago.
Here is a picture of a mall I went to yesterday.
Probably not what you expected.
I felt like I was back at Crossroads Mall back home, and in fact spent a good amount of time in the Crossroads Bookstore, buying Indian Magazine among other books to entertain myself out here with. I was shocked to find an Indian Maxim. Someone had ripped the plastic covering off, so I was able to give it a read, and I must say, that Maxim India and the world I have seen in Hyderabad are nothing alike. There was nothing glocal about this magazine, except the women posing in the famous layouts were all Indian, and the riske articles written were by and for Indians, though in a tone not too far from home for an American like myself. Interesting read.
While at the mall I saw a TV similar to the HD TV I purchased before coming out here, but had to leave it with a friend because it exceeded my 50lb luggage limit. (and other things) It was listed as over $6,000, over 3x the price I payed for it. There is definitely a lot of purchasing power in this city, as even a microwave here costs +$200. Gas is way more expensive than the U, and I believe my phone and Internet costs are more when compared. Brands here carry more power than I think they do back home. A mixture of US, UK, and local brands, this mall was a logo overload for me. It was nice not having pushy salesmen in my face for once though. The highlight of the evening was spotting the infamous dollar store on the 3rd floor. I had a good laugh over that, and considered trying to buy something with my American currency.
There is about a 200% markup on tickets for the cricket match here on Friday between India and Australia. The 15,000 tickets were sold out in hours, as people slept outside the ticket office for nights waiting to get them. They are all on sale on the black market now, and range anywhere from $3 – $100. Apparently the commissioner of the stadium hot some heat from the media, as the stadium actually seats 30,000, but he had decided to reserve 15,000 seats for corporate sponsors. Today, a good portion of those tickets were instead put back on the market for the general public. I have decided to not go, as I think the game will be rained out, no refunds/make up matches here.
I referred to a movie called Hyderabad Blues earlier. It was not well done, and I may decide to write a post on it when I get heavy into my Bollywood movie reviews. All you should know about it, is its about an Indian from America, comes back to Hyderabad, hates the customs and traditions, gets pressured into marriage non stop, falls in love, yada yada yada. My only reason for bringing this up, is that the role played was the exact role which could have introduced me to Bollywood. All I need is one English speaking role, where I can utilize my pure American accent, while showcasing my extremely refined dance steps. Surely I can actor better than the ass clown that tried to be an ABCD (American Born Confused Desi) in Hyderabad Blues.
Bollywood movies watched so far….
- Sarkar
- Company
- Corporate
- Being Cyrus
- Lagaan
- Dil Chahta Hai
- Don
- Page 3
- Swades*
- Lakshya
- Hyderabad Blues
Swades, also a story about an Indian coming back to his motherland from the US, is much better than Hyderabad Blues. I will look into writing short reviews for these movies and others I will be studying during my self education of Indian cinema, perhaps better suited for a separate blog altogether.
-Jason
Today I remembered this blog while telling someone about the wedding crashing story in Bombay back in 2005. I have been unable to access this blog, as Google took over and it was a bit of a challenge to find my old account info to transfer. (I forgot my password) Having recently been much more focused and dedicated to my latest writing project, “A Hyderabadass,” I have decided to resurrect this tale of my early 20’s, when I first started my adventure of traveling the world and learning about international business.
Nostalgically,
Jason
Today I spent some time gathering my thoughts on my time so far in India, glanced over the +10,000 words I have written about this trip so far, and came to a few conclusions.
1) I have spent too much time worrying/writing about my driver, Satyam.
2) I have not spent enough time talking about the good people I have met here in Hyderabad.
3) I have spent just enough time talking about cricket.
Though you may disagree with the third conclusion, I will not budge, I love the game. Out of fairness to #2, that is all I will mention about it in this post however.
#1
About Satyam. He left me when I needed him the most. He saw my vulnerability, my dependence on him, and I have a deep suspicion that he tried to take advantage of my generosity and gullibility. We had a good run, him and I, but I have moved on to a new driver, one who speaks no English, bangs on my door half an hour earlier than our scheduled pick up time, mysteriously takes off during lunch leaving me stranded, and up until today had no number for me to reach him at. I haven’t learned his name, and I am ok with it. I am still recovering from the trauma with Satyam.
The story in a nutshell is that Satyam possibly doesn’t even have any kids, or a wife in the hospital, or the history of hardships I patiently listened to during our 3 hours/day. My suspicion for this deception was caused by events that took place last week, when he told me that a new driver would be filling in for a few days, because he had a family emergency. His first explanation was that his wife’s sister had some problems with her scholarship money not going through at her college, she needed him to talk to the head master of the school. The next day, when my friend was in the car, he told some story about a bomb threat at the school, and having to go and help his sister in law. A few days later, after the new driver started, I received a call from Satyam, telling me he was not coming back. His story was that the owner of the car payed him less than what was promised, and since the new driver is able to work for less, he refused to pay Satyam what was originally promised.
Now, I don’t know the truth of this story. It has taken a toll on me this week. I did have compassion for Satyam’s situation, and wanted to find a way to help him out. I’m extremely suspicious that he is lying to me though, as his story doesn’t add up, for why he took those few days off. I overlooked him being late 2-3 times a week, causing me to be late for meetings at my job. I overlooked him asking me for undeserving tips after I had been tipping him above normal expectation, he did buy me motivational posters for my office. But one thing I can’t overlook is dishonesty. Therefore, if I get confirmation that his payment was fair, and he was not promised anything more, I will bid farewell to my first friend in Hyderabad. If his story checks out, I’m prepared to assist in helping him retain his promised salary, out of goodwill. I just don’t know what to believe out here, since discovering how the Chicken 65 fellow had been ripping me off this whole time.
#2
Outside the streets and traffic of the city, and inside the homes of the Hyderabadi’s you will find some of the warmest people on the planet. From reading this blog so far you might think otherwise, but I tell you now that i have only told a part of the story out here. There have been few places in the world I have been in my many travels that had such people, who truly define the word host. I found families that took me in in as a stranger in New Zealand, London, San Francisco, being the wanderer that I am, and today have ended up being people I now consider family. The family in Hyderabad is looking to follow similar suite.
I am staying with a family that is polar opposites of mine, even here in India, but still shares the qualities which make my visits here so memorable. They talk about their family with such pride, share pictures and memories of loved ones no longer around, and have done things to imply that I too, am now part of their family.
After spending much time to myself over the holiday, reading my design books and playing my guitar, I decided to come down to warm up some left over Biryani, since I haven’t bought a microwave yet. (Haven’t needed to with all the amazing meals being shared with me by this family) Rather than just an express microwave session, I was urged to sit down for dinner at their table, eat the leftovers after insisting I didn’t want Aunty to take any trouble, but then being served some of the best tasting French Toast that she had waited since morning to give me. She told me how much her sons loved this meal, and told me that she considered me like a son, and I was deeply touched, while at the same time regretful for not coming down earlier. It is a weird dynamic for me, after having lived alone so long. I try to get by on my own, and avoid having other people fuss over me, but in this case, I am starting to realize that my attitude needs to change. Although I might feel bad about how much trouble Aunty takes over me, perhaps she feels bad when I don’t let her take the trouble, the times I insist I can’t have breakfast because I am late for work, or come home having already eaten dinner. The other day, she asked me if she could mix my rice with the pickle, a south Indian delicacy. First reaction might have been to refuse, as it is a bit uncomfortable, but feeling her warmth, I said OK. With a big smile, she mixed the food with her hands for me, explaining how this kind of food can only be enjoyed when mixed like this. It was true, the food tasted much better after she mixed it.
Yesterday, after my meal, I hooked up this family’s new DVD player for them, as they wanted to show me a DVD of a recent family wedding. My 5 minute microwave voyage soon turned into a 3 hour evening, sharing memories and laughs with both Uncle and Aunty. The neighbors, who are renting a house from them have 2 young boys, same age difference as my brother and me. Out of coincidence, they have also moved here from the US, but their family is originally from Hyderabad. The older boy has taken a liking to me, and was very proud to help me with the DVD installation project. The younger boy, who is full of mischief but very fond of both Uncle and Aunty was also fascinated with what was going on. Perhaps my American accent reminded them of their home in California. Their mother told me that they admire me, and wonder where I am all day while I am in the office. Really nice family. Uncle’s commentary on the little mischievous one is very amusing, and they both light up when around each other.
After the evening, Uncle asked me if I could come home early the next day (today) to go out to eat. I soon came to know that the occasion was Aunty’s birthday. I left the office earlier than usual today, picked up some flowers, and fought traffic to make it home by 7. Soon after, the energy in the room became kinetic, as 2 new faces entered, with a camera, excitement, and bubbly personalities. They were the parents of Aunty’s daughter in law. Both Aunty’s were like sisters, and throughout the new found chaos, I was grouped in the pictures just like family. It meant alot to me, and I enjoyed being around these people on a Thursday night, which in the past has been a prime bar night. A lot of the conversation that goes on is beyond me as Telugu and I are in a fierce battle right now. Every so often someone will repeat what is said in English. Sometimes I wish that I could have this ability in normal conversations back in the US, where I can just screen 90% of talk out, and have someone just repeat the most important/entertaining bits to me. At dinner, there was a young boy running around in a Kulta Pajama outfit, traditional indian clothes worn at weddings and other proper events. Being a stranger, and coming to our table, one of the Auntys picked him and embraced him, as family. I was astonished how this was completely acceptable over here, but in the US might have been cause for a lawsuit. The warmth here extends beyond the climate and the food. Non stop smiles, and humor that even my ignorant ears can pick up from the tone and friendliness coming from the speaker.
Today was a great day, and I have chosen not to comment on some of the political problems going on here, or the interesting news I have gathered that I want to share with you guys. I will save it for another day, as I am content with where I am right now,
-Jason
A few pictures from the post game celebration….GO INDIA!
Australia is coming to play India next month in Hyderabad. I am trying to get tickets, but have heard its nearly impossible. Will keep you posted. Promise to write about other things instead of cricket coming this week…
-Jason
Today this country went to war, and after a nail biting finish, came out victors of the inaugural Twenty20 World Cup of Cricket. An emotional day, the city nearly shut down for it, and only 2 places in town were showing the game. I had the opportunity to watch the game with a great group of guys from Habsiguda, the area which I am staying. Tensions were felt early on, as the pub we chose by default only had one working tv and the only table we could sit at had a horrible view of the screen. The first play of a game was nearly a run out, India barely saved the wicket, and from then on I knew my blood pressure would be at risk for the next 4 hours. India batted in a modest 157 runs, which made my relatives in 3 different continents whom I spoke with at the break extremely nervous. Pakistan showed signs of early domination, but India stayed a threat by taking key wickets early on. The game came down to the last over, like most of these 20 over matches. Pakistan had only 10 runs to win off 6 balls, and hammered a six run boundary shot.
I made a mental note at that point that I would keep my cool if India lost, and started preparing myself for the disappointment, which seems to be ever present in the teams I choose to be a fan of. This was a bit different than my failing Cleveland Browns, or Chicago Cubs…This was my home. India doesn’t have the reputation of being competitive athletes back in the US, so naturally to see them in the finals of a world cup tournament took pride to a new level. Just moments earlier, the place had been shaking with Bhangra music, chants in the native language for India to win, and the hardest high fives I have been associated with. The disappointed I have usually experienced in my days as a sports fan lingered in the back of my mind during all this, as it seemed to good to be true when India took the 9th wicket after slowing Pakistan’s run rate to nearly 6 runs per over.
As it turns out, the very next ball, after my spirits had been weakened, India took the final wicket, catching a flyball. The place I was in, “On The Rocks” nearly crumbled, men continued to celebrate for an hour more, dancing Bhangra together and partying. The bar offered to buy everyone a round of drinks on the house, just as long as they closed out their bar tabs. My uncles who told me earlier they were preparing for war, celebrated in their respective locations. I danced with men I did not know, and felt no insecurity about it, as it was pure celebration, and something I needed after years of my teams letting me down. India was the last team anyone picked to win this tournament, and I hope that their success in South Africa, along with the reactions of the new style of the game will give cricket the support it needs to continue to grow.
I recently watched a Hindi movie called Lagaan, which was recommended to me by some relatives in Bombay. The movie is about a farming community in India 100’s of years ago that were ruled under the British. After having their tax (lagaan) doubled by a corrupt British ruler, who was insulted by the refusal of his Indian subordinate to eat chicken (a vegetarian), a group of the Indian farmers were talked into playing the British army in a cricket match. If they won, they would be exempt of any taxes for 3 years, if they lost they would have to pay 3x the normal tax. The movie is an entertaining story about how these farmers learned the game, overcame adversary, and battled their abusive imperialist rulers. It had a “Mighty Ducks” feel to it at times, but there were moments where the filmmaker was able to brilliantly get an emotional response out of the viewer, such as a scene involving an “untouchable” being allowed to play with the rest, as his crippled arm became an asset in the form of a leg spin.
I thought about this movie many times during the match tonight. My recent focus on cricket in this blog is not because of the game itself, most of my fascination is with the fans. The national sport of India is actually field hockey, but cricket is what holds this country together. With corruption abound, misfortune in many aspects of life, exploitation, religious conflicts, and natural disasters, cricket allows for anyone to escape for a few hours, and put all thoughts aside and support your country. The streets were packed tonight with people cheering, riding on motorcycles waving the Indian flag, which I hear is the only time the flag ever comes out in the city. The mood will likely carry over to tomorrow’s Ganesh Festival…The final day of the celebration where all the statues of the Elephant god will be immersed in the water.
I have heard of a place called Old City, which I have been cautioned to keep a safe distance from. Someone told me that it is rumored that Osama Bin Laden might hiding there, amid the 25% of the city living in poverty in narrow alley ways. Apparently tomorrow the crowds of people will pass through this heavily Muslim populated area, with the Ganesh statues, their drums, and red dye participating in the celebration. There has been a public warning of terrorism tomorrow, as a letter was delivered to the Chief of Police in Andra Pradesh. I am hoping that the day passes by without any disturbance or violence, and that all people here can enjoy their festivals, whether it is for Ganesh, Ramadan, or the celebration of cricketism, India’s other religion.
The one disturbing part of the match for me was the post game interview. Pakistan’s captain thanked the fans in Pakistan for their support, as well as all the Muslims around the world. I hope more people like me did not see this match as a religious battle. I am curious if people in India were cheering Pakistan on in this match. I know that I would never tolerate a fellow MSU spartan who was publicly a U of M fan during the epic college battles on the football field and basketball court. But, I don’t really know much about or understand a lot of the conflict here, hopefully will gain more insight during the 4 months while keeping an open mind in the process.
Politics and religion aside on this one I hope, Lagaan was just a movie afterall. This game had 10,000 crores at stake though, and I heard something about gambling on sports here being illegal. I wonder if there was an Lagaan (tax) on any of those profits made.
Victoriously,
Jason
Its 6am Sunday morning, and all I wanted to say is that I was woken up, from a chaotic cluster of sounds from monkey’s in the back yard jungle. Where am I?
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