Monthly Archives: April 2013

An auto-wallah’s woes

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So I went to my colleague and friend Chithra’s niece’s coming-of-age party tonight, wearing my best cotton salwar kameez with my new heeled sandals. I even bothered to put full make-up on, and despite having to walk a good km or so to find the place, it managed not to melt off my face!

After accidentally gate-crashing the wrong party, I finally found the right function room, with a single lady sitting inside. We spent half an hour chatting before the hordes of relatives arrived with the girl in question. Only eleven years old, she was decked up in several long, gold necklaces and jewellery over her ears and hair. The photographer who had been milling about beforehand succeeded in creating a little photoshoot for her, before Chithra finally arrived.

Having already performed the puja on Friday as the eldest aunt, Chithra’s younger sister instead took responsibility for arranging the trays of gifts to give to the girl. There were so many plates, of coconuts, bananas, apples, mithai, clothing, glass bangles, chocolate…I lost count. Once all presented, guests then filed up to give their own presents, and I gave my little cake in its box which I’d agonised over that afternoon.

Food then followed of course, with lots of the same questions from different people, and random guests who wanting to photograph me eating. Ah well, better than the usual idiots following you with their phones as you walk along the street.

Full, happy, tired (due to a crazy weekend sleep pattern), I hailed an auto outside the church hall. Against the odds, the driver was a decent one on the first try, and didn’t even argue about turning on the meter. On the short drive back to Frazer Town, I overhead the words ‘admitted’ and ‘hospital’ when he got a phone call. A few seconds later he began narrating his difficulty to me – his heavily pregnant wife needed admitting into the government hospital, to give birth, but the doctor was asking for a 1000 rupee bribe. Government hospitals are meant to be free. An auto-wallah has no chance of getting such an amount of money.

There was a recent case not two weeks back where a slum-dweller was asked for the same fee to be admitted. Unable to pay, she was turned away, and ended up giving birth on a footpath on her way back home.

He told me how his friend was meant to be lending them the cash, but wasn’t delivering it as planned (I think this is the gist of it). When I asked him why he shouldn’t report this doctor to the police, and not pay the bribe, he simply replied that it would do no good – they are all corrupt. Same old story.

I really felt for him, and wished him my best as I got out of the auto. He was such a sweet guy, and he even complimented me on my salwar kameez! I really hope his wife gets to have a safe delivery – there’s no way out for people in his situation. When the police will turn you away from the station simply because you don’t speak Kannada, what hope is there? It reminds me why SICHREM’s work is so important.

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Work-a-holism

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So I realise that I’ve been extremely lax in keeping my blog posts up to date, but that is largely due to the lack of interesting things happening of late.

In the first week of April I moved out of the paying guesthouse with the family, to the blessedly laid-back flatshare with four other girls. Between working flat out at the office, and coming back and spending a good hour making food every night, I’ve had very little free time over the past couple of weeks.

Our cockroach-infested kitchen has also been taking up my weekend hours – despite employing a maid six days a week to supposedly clean the entire apartment, in my need to satiate my OCD urges, I realised that she can only be pushing dirt around with a mop. Just last night, the stains which I believed were permanent on the marble living room floor actually came off pretty quickly with some gentle floor cleaner and angry mopping. My discovery of these little chalk pesticide sticks in a kitchen cupboard also proved to be a godsend against the cockroach onslaught.

In the office, my report on the Karnataka State Human Rights Commission has been coming together, as I actually started conducting several interviews in person with members of various civil society organisations. The Commission however remains uncommunicative and actively opposes SICHREM conducting the report, so I’m currently trying to obtain all the information I need from outside the Commission itself. It’s interesting to hear all the damning opinions, especially when everyone holds the same contentions against the Commission! It reminds me of doing my dissertation research, and I’m happy in the practical research, but my other project collating newspaper articles for the quarterly report is mind-numbingly boring. I can barely motivate myself to finish it, which makes it even more difficult to move onto the exciting stuff.

Mathews (the boss) has promised me a place beside our legal advocate on his gender-related complaints that come in, and the chance to do some fact-findings into certain cases – which means ascertaining facts as much as possible from both the victim’s and perpetrator’s sides to produce a report. Let’s hope it turns out to be interesting, as I’m steadily going mad due to lack of interest in my (mostly) non-gender-related work.

Yesterday I accompanied Jaydine to Commercial Street for some retail therapy and to get out of the flat (though I did manage to squeeze in some more cleaning!) and inadvertently splurged a shocking amount of rupees on cushion covers and wall hangings. I mean, who can blame me for buying 10 covers when they’re all so beautiful? And you can never have too many cushions. I had to extricate myself from a love affair with a gorgeous carved circular wooden table too – it’s not that I don’t intend to buy furniture, it’s just that I really want it to be committed to me (meaning that it still has to make me be in love with it after at least a week). A little voice in the back of my head is telling me to buy it though, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to last that long.

Aside from the few events over the past fortnight or so, little else has happened. I am learning to cook some Indian dishes after an emergency trip to a nearby book shop for a recipe book, and taking my Hindi lessons every day now (which is intense to say the least).

For me, life in India is just like life back home – everything becomes normal, and you forget to notice each new thing. The weeks continue and the work deadlines keep getting pushed back, and there never seems to be a convenient time to visit all the places you want to see (or the remaining places in Bangalore are just not worth seeing). I’m still yet to enrol in a yoga class, mainly due to a complete lack of time, and a convenient place to take the classes nearby. I think my life right now can be encapsulated nicely by the recent themes which permeate my dreams: arguing with rickshaw drivers, buying vegetables, worrying about money, Hindi homework, office work, getting my salwar stitched, and anxiously waiting for my boyfriend to hurry up and arrive in India. Why can’t it be June already?

The one last thing that I almost forgot to mention is my upcoming participation in the Bangalore 10K marathon, which SICHREM and all its staff participate in annually as their main fundraising event. Now I’m not very sporty, and definitely far too rheumatic to run anywhere, but in the 40 degree heat I think I may very well actually succumb to heat exhaustion. To say I’m not looking forward to it is such an understatement it’s insulting – I WILL die. I hope the male staff members will be strong enough to complete it carrying me. J

Anyway, I’m taking sponsorship for the run here: http://bangalorecares.in/ngofundraise-detail/?fund=270&evt_id=4

Mangalore

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Because I’m feeling lazy, and have a busy week ahead, I made this week’s post in a checklist format:

Tuesday 26th – my 23rd birthday! I didn’t really start the day with any celebration, as I had to go to the Commission for my report, but I was given flowers and a card by SICHREM staff, and I wore my new turquoise sari, which seemed to please almost every woman I met on the bus/street/stairs. Ate dinner at Pizza Hut (oh pizza how I missed you!).

Wednesday 27th – Holi, and I even brought my colours to work. But no one wanted to play. 😦 Next year’s resolution to be drenched in colour.

Thursday 28th – Emma and I met at Majestic bus station to catch our sleeper bus to Mangalore. Our easter weekend away!

Friday 29th – Ullal beach, an hour’s bus ride south of Mangalore. Went to see Himmatwalla in the evening, a surprisingly funny film.

 

Saturday 30th – Headed to Sultan’s Battery, which Lonely Planet describes as

Sultan’s Battery, the only remnant of Tipu Sultan’s fort, is 4km from the centre on the headland of the old port; bus 16 will get you there.

via Sultan’s Battery in Mangalore, India – Lonely Planet.

but which actually looks like this.

Mangalore 1383

Sultan’s Battery – more apt to call it ‘small stone circle with steps’

Mangalore 1379

The old port *ahem car park*

Sick of stupid guide books, we took a 5 rs. boat across the lagoon to a hidden local beach; pristine, empty, divine. Ate fish on the sand and slept on a log bench lashed between two trees. Accidentally photographed a man washing his testicles in the sea. Naughty sun burnt my face.

Sunday 31st – Emma got bored of Mangalore, split off to Mysore. I went north to Udupi, for Krishna temple. Huge temple complex; main temple like a religious theme park, with plastic tat, food vendors, one-way systems and sign posts. Ate lunch in a mass-feeding hall for pilgrims – bath tubs of rice on trolleys, priests running and sloshing sambar onto plates, lines and lines of people sitting on long marble slivers.

Outside was an elephant trained to take money in its trunk, and tap a blessing onto children’s heads. Hopped barefoot over the boiling pavement and passed a limbless cow with some terrible infection. Turtles in the temple pool! Men singing and drumming in another temple; hypnotised by the main singer’s voice, and the rhythm.

Took a bus to Malpe, then a boat to St Mary’s Island (though the sign said “CocoanutIsland”). Arrived drenched. Fine sandy beaches scarred by basalt hexagons belching from the sea. Got the climbing itch, others then copied. Boat back literally rode each wave to reach the shore, stalling in each lull then charging as the next one crested.

Knackered, nearly fainting, made it back to Mangalore and ate, and ate. Also drank and drank, meaning I had to stop the sleeper bus and pee in its shadow at the side of the road. Didn’t sleep, but home happy.