All About Look And Feel

Appearance is important. That is one of the most important lessons I have learnt since arriving here. I have noticed how, all around me, people are so keen on appearances. In my note a couple of days ago, I mentioned a performance at a community school event, where the teacher was showing the children what to do so they look good on stage. That is just one of many examples. It is not a bad thing, except that too much of it, like anything else, can be unpleasant. In a work environment, more often than lot, it tends to lead to the guy who talks the most and works the least getting a bigger share of the bonus. Unfortunate as it is, that is the truth. The survival of the fittest. In this case, to be fit is to be able to show oneself as able. The actual ability does not count as much. I am sure it counts for something but it is the appearance that matters the most.

I do not know if it has always mattered this much to me or if it is one of the many things I have imbibed since being part of the culture here but I realized that sometimes appearance is rather important to me. Maybe it is human nature. I mean, we all love to eat food that 'looks good', right? What is that they say about restaurants using red and black colours in their logos because that makes people hungry and want to go into the restaurant. There is some science to it but I cannot remember much of that now.

Anyway, moving on to what I am really on about...

After having looked at Christmas greetings at a few card stores and not being entirely satisfied with either the cards or the price, I ventured into the big Post Office in the CBD the other day. I sort of loved going to the post office once in a while. Not only was it convenient but it had a good feel to it. Convenient because all I really had to do was stand in line and the guy at the counter gave me the right envelope, with the right value of stamps. Sometimes, he even took it off of me and saved me the wee hassle of dropping it in the box. The good feel came from the various bits and stuff they sold. The PO was not just a postal service office but a little store that sold stationery, gift cards, greeting cards and a range of little things that one could shop for in a hurry. I have found their Christmas cards better and cheaper than most card shops, especially when I have had to buy in bulk.

So, I walked into the post office the other day and I was taken aback. I looked around me and walked out the door to make sure I had entered the right place! I entered again, into this big room that looked flash with shiny red and white counters set up on one side and a shelf full of envelopes on the wall across the counters. There were a few self-service kiosks on the left. That was it. What happened to all the stuff they were selling? What happened to the warm, friendly feel of the place? I did not like it one bit. I walked around, trying to find Christmas cards and finally realized that they were not selling any. In fact, they did not seem to be selling anything other than the envelopes I saw on the wall. The counters looked so new and bright, they were almost intimidating. It felt more like a bank and less like the friendly post office I frequented. Oh well, for a new-comer, it might be this fancy postal office space but I hated it. .

The cute little free muffins they were giving away, with the symbol of the post office in icing, tasted good but it did nothing to salvage my broken heart. From a warm postal exchange where I sent stuff to my family and friends, it had changed into an office space where I would go to pay bills. That is what it seemed like.

When a colleague of mine mentioned visiting the post office the other day, I knew she had not been there in a while. If she had, she would have definitely said something about the change. So, I warned her. When I met her today, she said, "You were right! The place is so sterile now". Sterile. Yes, that one word describes it. It is going to be a while before I go back in there. There is a little shop closer to my work place which is a smaller branch of the post office. I went there to get my Christmas cards that afternoon and found it still intact. It looked just liked it always had. It was smaller but it had the same feel as the older version of the post office. It made me feel better. That is the place I am going to be visiting for my future needs. I hope they do not modify the structure of the little branches at least.

Yeah, appearance does make a big difference. Doesn't it?

When The Queen Was Here

Queen Elizabeth II was in Brisbane on what was being touted as possibly her last tour to Australia. Nobody said why they thought it was her last tour. I cannot help but wonder if anyone realized it sounded like she was going to die. Somehow even thinking that seems blasphemous. 

From the news stand, I gleaned information that she is the only reigning monarch from The Royal Family to visit Australia and in her 16 visits to this continent, she has visited all the states. She was coming to Brisbane to pay her respects to the flood-ravaged areas and affected people. 

Thousands of Brisbanites assembled at various points on both sides of the Brisbane River, starting from Brett's Wharf to South Bank, to get a glimpse of the Queen (and more, if possible). When I arrived at SouthBank Parklands, the place was jam-packed. I do not remember seeing this many people in Brisbane even at the famous Riverfire or the glorious Ekka! Jostling crowds? What's that? Do we have that many people in Brissie? Nyah! Turns out we do. It was easy to see what the newsreaders mean when they talk about the pull the Queen has.

What I should have expected, but had not, was the number of old people present on the day. Some of them could barely walk but they were there, waiting for Her Majesty, in the blistering heat of the Sunshine State's summer sun. They were in such awe of the Royal family! A number of kids in fancy dresses, with flowers, cards and gifts for the Queen, waited patiently for her with their parents. The excitement in the air was almost tangible. I heard one parent saying they had been waiting in the same spot for 4 hours! That's one thing that never fails to fascinate me about the people here. They wait for hours, camping with their families, for a 15 - 20 minute event. Don't they have to be elsewhere, doing other things? 

Each time a boat came close to the pontoon, the crowd held their breath. A happy old man to my left was giving a running commentary to the ladies around him. Every time he said the Royal Boat had arrived and he was wrong, the grannies chided him for the slip-up. It was like watching a movie shot at a different time period. A young man with a bevy of ladies on his arm, while he regaled them with his army stories. 

When the police boats arrived, we knew she was going to be here any moment. Click, flash, hands flew up  all around me. The ones at the back of the crowd were hoping to capture something on their cameras to take back home, even if a direct visual was hard to get. The announcer from the news channel that was running a continuous update on her trip said the Queen had been up on her feet waving at people throughout the boat-ride. At her age, it was an amazing thing. The crowd went crazy. 

Finally, the ferry carrying the Royal entourage arrived at the South Bank Cultural Centre pontoon and stopped. More hands in the air, more flashes.

"There she is, in red!". "No, that's Anna Bligh". "Oh look, Anna is wearing a hat!" "The Queen is in green, next to Anna". "I can see the Prince". "Where, where? I don't see anything" "They're on the top deck. Anna is wearing a red hat, the Queen is in green". This last was from our old friend, the commentator.

I stood tip-toe on my 2 inch heels and strained my eyes. It was hard to spot them. The man in front of me, with 2 little girls, had got an eyeful and bend down to let the others behind him get a view. I saw two figures - one in red and one in pale green - standing side by side on the top deck! There seemed to be some men in suits but it was hard to tell who they were. Well, I got my glimpse! By then I had clicked a few randoms on my camera and was hoping that I'd managed to get them in at least one of my frames. Here is what I got.

Ha ha ha! No, that's a picture from one of the newspapers online. Here's what I really got from my camera. If you peer hard enough, you might see 2 little spots in green & red. That's them alright. 

I am not even sure why I went there. In India we do not go ga-ga over The Royal Family, like they do here in the Australia. It was a sort of a historic moment and I suppose I wanted to be a part of it. Even if it meant being one of a hundred thousand specks in the dust. It was not like most of us had a hope in hell of actually getting to see her. In the end, all I got was a glimpse of someone or something in a spearmint green coat and hat that was apparently the Queen. The Queensland Premier Anna Bligh was more easily spotted in her scarlet suit & matching hat. There were a couple of men dressed up in guardsmen outfit, who might have been the Queen's men or fancy dressed men in the crowd. It was hard to tell. It would be a shame not to mention the Duke of Edinburgh but he did not exactly make the headlines or do anything unusual to note. Not even one of his famous gaffes that day. There was a loud roar from the crowd as they got off the ferry and walked down the aisle at SouthBank Parklands. As she walked down the pathway, the noise moved with her and hands flew up, holding cameras, iPhones and SLRs. When she passed a certain spot, the crowd disintegrated in a trice. 

It had been an hour in the sun and I had seen all I could. As I made my way back, I saw a woman sitting on her husband's shoulders trying to get a better view. Cameramen from news channels trying to capture the excitement for their audience were thrusting mikes at her for a commentary on what she was seeing. When they left, I asked her if she saw the Queen and she said she didn't. Well, she got her 15 seconds of fame while the poor husband was straining under her weight. Someone yelled that the Royal entourage was in the QPAC building and everyone turned in that direction. Sure enough, we could see unmistakable green and red figures surrounded by black suits, through the glass windows. 

By now, I was hot and hungry. It would have been impossible to try to catch my friend who was somewhere among the thousands. I messaged her that I was heading back, quickly waved at the construction workers peeking through the different levels of their building (lucky bastards got a good view without leaving their workplace) and took off.

As I weaved through the crowd, conversations floated into my ears. A group of teenagers were excited that they had seen a red hat, green had and squealed when one girl announced that she had seen Prince Charles. Of course, she meant Phillip but who cares, she saw him! An middle-aged woman was telling her friend that some people had fainted from the heat. An old man holding his wife's hand was making his way through prams and people, yelling "woman with a baby, woman with a baby". His wife might have been a "baby" to him but he didn't look like a woman to anyone. The Victoria Bridge was filled with barely moving people. The 3-minute walk across it took me 15 but I finally made it. Not before I heard one last comment from 2 young women - "Next time, we should get here at 7 in the morning, with blankets and deck chairs, so we can get a good view". I almost felt ashamed for wondering if it was worth coming this time. 

Obama Says Osama Is No More

Osama Bin Laden is dead. This was not how I heard the news. I turned on the television, hoping to find something to watch that would help kill my time. The news was on. The news reader was stating, quite nonchalantly, that there were concerns of retaliation due to the killing of Osama Bin Laden in a fire fight with the US forces. I frowned and checked myself from switching channels.

He was dead? Wow! That is good news, I suppose.

She finished the bit she was on and a good 15 minutes later, she said, "For those of you who just joined us...", Osama Bin Laden was killed by the US military. The US President Barack Obama's announcement was rather lengthy but quite powerful. There was no emotion in his voice or on his face. Like a good orator, he hit all the right notes, said all the right things to touch the the diverse assortment of people he was addressing. He took full responsibility for the operation, inserting the word "I" in appropriate places. Some day in the future, during election campaigns and other publicity drives, snippets of this speech and video will be used, no doubt.

All the world dignitaries who were asked to comment agreed that it was a victory against terrorism and, at the same time, insisted that the war was not over yet. Obama also asserted that this was not an anti-Muslim crusade. He categorically stated that while Bin Laden had made this a war sound like it was for the Muslims, not all Muslims were terrorists or in support of his cause. It was a very positive and a much-needed statement at a time as this.

One of the voices I heard on the news hit the nail on the head when he said that even some of the Muslims who were in favour of Bin Laden's cries against the dictatorship of the West, merely supported his expression against the oppression by the West but not necessarily Bin Laden or his methods. 

This is one of those times when everyone seems to stand in agreement. The joy is for the death of the man who engineered the 9/11 World Twin Tower attacks. The war against terrorism is still one that needs to be fought. There are a lot of questions raised about the attacks, about Pakistan's involvement (or the lack of it) in the intelligence, the US helicopter that conveniently developed a snag & exploded after the attack etc. For the moment, the questions are still second to the triumphant sentiments over the killing of Osama and his sons. Ground Zero is milling with people celebrating the historical moment.

Osama Bin Laden was a name unheard of until the September 11 attacks in the United States. Once it was made public, he became the name and face of terrorism. That might be part of the reason the forces that killed him are rushing to clarify that the death of this one man is not the death of terrorism. Suspecting retaliation from the Al-Qaeda, security has been beefed up in the US. The Australian government has, on their travel advice, upped the risk factor and asked travellers to be more cautious than ever.

When the US told us Osama was a terrorist, we hated him. Now they say they have killed him, we rejoice. They have given us another name - the 2nd in command of the Al Qaeda - Ayman Al Zawahari. It is easier to hate an enemy who has a name and delight when he has gone down. They know that. The name Osama was known to them months before the 9/11 attacks and before they told us. So was Zawahari. 

The social media is, as is the norm today, inundated with this news. So is the blog world. The print and electronic media, of course. Following close on the heels of the news of Gaddafi's son being killed in an airstrike in Libya, this is the second good-prevails-evil news over the same weekend. Just before that, the media was all agog over the wedding of Prince William with Catherine (Kate) Middleton, now the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Is this all for real or are we in a fairy tale right now? The hero, of course, is the United States. For it is success and dark news that imprint on the mind deeper than a happy story in an expensive white gown.

The Ayodhya Verdict

I heard the verdict on the long-standing Ayodhya issue. It was pathetic, if nothing else. No offence but why did it take this long to say something I could have said right back then? On the surface it sounds like a reasonable decision. Except that, it is not. 

If Hindus and Muslims could live in harmony, sharing the same ground, why have they not already? Maybe most Hindus and Muslims do not really care if they had to share the ground. They can live in harmony. There are certain sections of troublemakers who needed the issue to thrive because it served their selfish interests. How is this verdict going to address that? In my view, the core of the problem has been less religion and more politics. Mud-slinging and buying vote-banks, in the name of Ayodhya, has been a norm at every major political event. It has been nurtured by some of our leaders, to increase the bulge in their pockets. Why will they accept this verdict now? Of course, they will not go out and protest against the verdict. Does that mean they like it?

Taking advantage of the hype of the issue, a few objects of media have dug up the history of the issue. Apparently, this is not just a two-decade old issue, as most of us know it. It dates back centuries. One version I read said the start of the story is way back in the 11th century when Lord Rama was born in Ayodhya. There was a temple built in his honour, which was later demolished by a Mughal Emperor, who built a masjid there. A good 300 years later, that was demolished by a group of party workers and politicians led by L K Advani. A long, painful 20 years later, a verdict is given that Hindus and Muslims should share the land equally. And the 3rd party. Like a friend of mine tweeted, how do you divide 1 by 3 and get a whole number? Does each party get 0.333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333% of land?

Here are a few excerpts from people's views collected by the TOI group.  

Hindus are happy that the court has said they can have the land, they cannot see why they need to share it with the Muslims...

"The court has accepted historical facts and ruled on the basis of facts," said Nritya Gopal Das, president of the Shri Ram Janmabhoomi Nyas, the chief body in Ayodhya working towards the building of a temple on the site. "Every Hindu already knew in his heart that Ram lived here. Now the court has ruled that this is true," Das added. 

"When the court has ruled this is where Ram was born, what is the meaning of a one-third share for Muslims? The whole area is Ram's and we will go in appeal to the SC against the one-third given to the Sunni Waqf Board," Das said.

The Muslims cannot see why the Hindus need to be given any part of the land at all...

"Does all this mean that it was okay to tear down the Babri mosque? Why is the court deciding matters thousands of years old but ignoring matters 20 years old," asked 24-year-old Ashraf Ali (name changed on request), a resident of Ayodhya who works in a printing press in Faizabad.

It has not been accepted silently. The issue lives on. The only thing that has changed is probably the judge who retires today. He had to say something. He earned a good salary on the supposed verdict for a greater part of his career and when he had to leave, he told them to grow up and share it like good children. The saga continues. 

When Dreams Come Alive

As a strong advocate of dreaming, whether one hopes to realize the dream or not, I have had a number of dreams over the years. In time, the list grows longer. Sometimes they get archived in the head until they are recalled by a trigger of some sort. Sometimes, they drop off the edge, never to be realized or remembered. Then there are those dreams that are fresh and oozing with hope. Not to forget the ones that are on the list and go crash boom with fireworks as one sparks them off, bringing happiness at having come true.

On my first day in Sydney last weekend, I picked up a map at the concierge of my hotel and made a random sketch of my day, while I had coffee and banana toast with butter. The plan was to walk through Hyde Park, The Domain and The Royal Botanical Gardens, soaking in the sights and sounds of the roads that ran alongside them, at the same time experiencing the bountiful freshness nature accorded me. It worked to perfection, as I saw lush green around me, dancing fountains, sculptures, old and new buildings juxtaposed in a contest of grandeur. Interspersed with these visuals were the occasional road crossing, bridges, traffic signals and, of course, the traffic itself in terms of people and vehicles. A good blend of quiet and noise. In other words, beautiful and lively. 

The Royal Botanical Garden is a splendid park, with plenty to see. The variety of birds, flowers, trees and life in so many forms bewildered me. The cacophony of scores of flying foxes, the other quiet varieties of birds looking for a feed, majestic trees, endless carpets of grass and the assortment of local flora I had never known about left me marvelling. After having spent a fair amount of time in the garden, I kept moving forward to see where it would lead me. I arrived at what looked like a castle in fairy tales. Like a 5-year old, I wondered what princess lived in there. Suddenly, I heard music flowing from the side of the castle. I walked towards it, to find a man in suit, playing for his lady in white. It truly looked like a scene from an old movie. I was almost disappointed to know that it was The Government House. I believe I could have gone inside but I was not sure and it did not hold my interest for I had another place to be, very soon.

I walked along the sea-side, to find out where it would end. Imagine my astonishment when I stumbled upon a structure I had only until then dreamed about! It was one of my dreams that had long been archived and migrated to the recesses of my dreamland. I used to watch it on TV and wonder if I could ever visit the place. Even when I made my weekend plans for Sydney, I had not comprehended the awe that this structure would inspire in me. Nothing had prepared me for the heart-stopping reaction that comes when one's long-forgotten, unexpectedly realized dreams come true! I nearly took a step back at the jolt I got from stumbling upon this structure. I stood there, the sea on my right, the lovely garden on my left staring at this magnificent structure that lay ahead of me. I walked slowly towards it, afraid the bubble would burst, if I rushed towards it. Just before I arrived at the stairs that led up to the building, I chanced upon a pontoon to my right. A wooden bridge, gently swaying to the breeze, that led straight into the sea. 

I needed a moment to gather myself. What better than walking towards the enormous body of water, with it's amiable waves and soothing sound? At the edge of the pontoon I stood, taking pleasure in the cradling of the floating bridge. I took a picture of myself, with one of Australia's icons in the background, before finally arriving at it's base. I ascended the stairs, excited with each step. I walked all around it. The sea goes around The Opera House in a semi-circle, disappearing into infinity. 

On the opposite side to where I started off, I saw The Harbour Bridge. That was my final destination for the day. I was going to be climbing the bridge shortly. In a short while, the awe of stumbling upon the mighty Opera House was subsiding. I had my fill. I made my way towards the next of Australia's greatest icon. To see what the beautiful world around me looked like at 134metres above the Sydney Harbour. 

The Bridge Climb itself is another experience to write home about. Standing on the top of The Harbour Bridge, with a 360 view of Sydney - The Opera House and beaches on one side, The Harbour below, Blue Mountains on the other and the vast Sky above that changed colours rapidly as dusk set in. It was magical! Much more beautiful than any dream might have been. It was like seeking a bar of chocolate and finding a chocolate-laden 7-course meal that is sinfully delightful!

2010 Federal Elections: Voters Backlash, Hung Parliament Looms

Election campaigning in Australia is nothing like it is back home. No blaring noise on the streets, no traffic jams caused by campaigners, no posters splattered across the city and most importantly, no frenzied preparations for security on election day to stop offenders. You might think then that it is easy to move from one day to another without even noticing that the elections are here. Not so.

There is persistent campaigning on the telly. Every few minutes, on every channel, you see a few seconds of each party slagging the other. You simply cannot miss it or turn away. Very soon, you know that the Labour party has overspent last year's budget, Tony Abbot has screwed up workplace relations and so on. Of all the adverts I've watched, there is only one that carries a positive message - the one where Mr. Abbot spells out the Opposition's contract for Australians. His promise to repay Labour's debts, stop the boats and such ones. The rest tell you why not to vote for the other party and you are to assume that it is reason enough to vote for them.

So the Opposition has made an attempt to talk about something that they will do. Yet, it is Ms Gilliard who appears to lead the popularity chart. She has a presence that Mr. Abbot lacks. There is enough talk about her. It does not matter whether she just stabbed Kevin Rudd in the back or she is out on the streets shaking hands and kissing babies; She is the topic of conversation. Her trips to Adelaide, campaigning in Brisbane, talks in Melbourne were all broadcast. I did not hear as much about her opponent. It may seem that she may not have enough support from Brisbaners loyal to their Mr. Rudd but it will not be a surprise if she does manage to clinch the throne. 

When she talks, people want to report it. She seems to possess leadership qualities that make her stand out. That does not necessarily mean that she will do good, just that she can put up a good fight. She knows her strengths, the skills women are typically known for, and she uses it to her best advantage. No, I don't mean looks (have you seen her?) but the talents that make women good leaders. The ability to reach out and be noticed. 

I overheard someone once say, "Does she think she can become the PM by kissing babies and shaking hands?". Why not? Maybe the act itself will not give her the seat. It brings her in touch with the masses. 

She is like the celebrities we read about everyday. They have fans. How many fans really know them? Yet they have fiercely loyal followers. It is all about marketing. The more people see of you, the more people see you, to them you are more than just a name or a little moving object on the TV screen. If the campaigning were all to be believed, both parties are equal in negatives. In that case, who do I vote for? Maybe someone I can identify with or someone I know more about. Someone I have been following on the news everyday because atleast I know what she's upto. Maybe I don't know what is going on behind the scenes but her constant appearances make me believe I am not all in the dark. Where is Tony Abbot? What is he up to? For all that is said, he may be the better man. How do I know that, though? 

That does not mean that I expect the ALP to win the elections. Tony might become the PM, after all. Julia has a presence. She will not relegate to the background so easily. It cannot be missed that all the negative publicity and furore over her 'stabbing' her mate Rudd barely took off. On the one side, people were punching fists in the air and on the other, she was capturing hearts and gaining popularity with equal gusto. She has mustered as much acclaim as disrepute. She still stands tough, in competition to Tony Abbot. Talk about girl power.

As far as I am concerned, it does not matter who wins. I support no one and I did not have to vote. Except for the curiosity that arises out of being an audience to all the action and wanting to see who will win, there is nothing in it for me. Whoever wins, I am pretty sure that enough interest has been aroused in me to see how things go from here. Not so much the governance as the manifestation of the person who wins. Not so much what the government does but how the 2 individuals hold up.

I bet, when the results are finalized and announced, there will not be fire-crackers, parades or any such spectacles in public domain. The campaign slots will be taken up by ads for other products. I wonder what the celebrations will look like. The countdown is on.

Cheat The Cheater: Strike A Bargain

photo by Ragaabhinaya

Bargaining is a big thing in India. If you are good at bargaining, you can get anything for a fantastic price. Sadly, it is a talent I do not possess. I would rather go to a 'fixed price' shop and buy something for the quoted price than put myself through the stress of wondering what the actual price of the article might have been, how much I am being overcharged, what the best price of the item would be and the actual ritual of haggling! Phew!

I needed some paper for a bank request this morning. There are only two places where one can get this paper but both were out of my reach. There is also a third place which sells them but for an extra cost, the latter depending on how well you can bargain. In a little shop on the courtyard of a court. 

Near the entrance of this building, there are a number of typists who type up affidavits and similar legal documents. There are lawyers in the designated black coats, smoking, drinking coffee or just standing around waiting for gullible victims they can make a quick buck out of. There is a small shop that sells coffee, tea, snacks (chakkuli, nippattu, etc) and some miscellaneous items (for e.g. smokes). It is here that you can also buy these papers.

As soon as I walked in the gate, I was intercepted by a man in black coat, who looked every bit like a crook. I had no choice but to explain to him what it was that I wanted. After all, I had been told to expect that. With an unabashed tone, he said to me, "It will cost you 400 rupees". Four hundred bucks for something worth 200? Was he out of his mind? I forced myself to remain calm and told him that someone sent me here saying it would cost me 250 rupees only. He insisted that it were not easily available, so I had to pay him an extra 200 rupees to procure it. Two hundred bucks to procure it, my ass!

I put on the best helpless look I could and told to him that I did not have that much money with me. I went on to describe my 'circumstances' to him, telling him that I had to pay a fee of 200 rupees at the bank and I brought just enough money with me to pay him 250 rupees. Clearly, he had seen enough people like me (probably more) to know that I was haggling with him. Initially he refused to budge but when I insisted that I really did not have enough money, he obliged and reduced the cost to 350 rupees. Are you kidding me? Do you not understand "I do not have so much money"? I kept repeating my story to him as many times as it took to get him to down his price further. Also, because I could not think of anything else to say. Also, because nagging and repeating is what I do best. Sic.

Finally, he asked me how much I would pay him. I said, "They told me it will cost only 50 rupees extra sir". He, obviously, knew I was BS-ing him and I knew that he knew but I had to try. Finally, we agreed to a price of 300 rupees. He was looting me by 100 bucks. Sigh. He pointed me to the tiny shop. 

I went up to the shopkeeper, who said to me that he would get it by 11AM. A 20-minute wait. In the meanwhile, I tried to find out if I could get it elsewhere instead but apparently, I could only get it at the post office if not where I was at. My husband was at the post office at the moment, so he tried there. They were working till 3PM but asked him to come back on Monday anyway. Government offices! Sigh! 

So, I returned to the courtyard and waited till 11 'O' clock. I went back to the shop and he said he was still waiting for someone to bring it. The guy said he would call me when it arrived. While I waited, I saw the guy selling papers to a couple of lawyers. I went back to him and asked again. He said he was still waiting and that he would call someone. He fiddled with his mobile for a bit when I did my 'help me' act again, "Please sir, I need to go to the bank before 12 'O' clock or the bank will close". It was 11.25AM. The guy waited another 5 minutes while I stood rooted on a spot in front of his shop. Finally, he left the shop and went to bring it himself. Within 5 minutes, I got my paper. I paid him 200 bucks, trying to see if I could get away without paying extra. He gave me an incredulous look. "Madam, 50 rupees", he said, as I handed him another 50 rupee note. Well, atleast he was not trying to rob me like the lousy lawyer did. 

I needed to photocopy the contents of a template onto the stamp paper. Our man in black coat was right in front of the copier. I made a quick decision. I would not go to him and pay up. I will just slink away. I've already paid 50 bucks to the guy selling me the paper. The bank had a photocopier machines anyway, they could do my document for me. As expected, they did the document for me. I felt proud of myself. I had never in my wildest dreams imagined that if someone tried to charge me 200 bucks, I would be able to bargain and get the same for 50 bucks. Hah! I had cheated the cheater. 

Tar Tar Everywhere

So much for all the excitement about tar roads. In an over-enthusiastic moment, the workers have lined the roads end to end. There is no footpath or mud left on the borders of the road anymore. 

Problems I noticed this morning, due to lack of a mud path:

• My Lucky is forced to pee and poop on the tar road. She hates it. Since there is no difference between the edge of the road and the centre, she does not realize it when she plonks herself in the middle of the road sometimes. Dangerous!
• Leaves from the trees fall on the road. Earlier they use to land on the mud paths and eventually decompose. Now, someone has to sweep them up and leave them by the side of the road. The road looks dirty now
• There is no more grass lining the roads. Less green. No more 'garike' for dogs to munch on, to help their digestive issues
• Cars parked on the road-side allow no space for walkers, forcing them to walk on the right side of the car i.e. towards the centre of the road

Minor issues, I guess. We'll eventually get used to all of this. Still, I can't help wishing that people paid more attention to detail and showed more interest in the quality of their work. 

My Vote Counts

I cried for new shoes until I saw a man without a pair. Somebody said something on those lines, many many years ago. I read that in a book, as a child, and it stuck in my head ever since. As if I was not inhibited enough, the sentence rang in my head whenever I wanted something. I asked my parents for less, for I was not sure they could afford it and I told myself that if I could live without it, it was probably not something I should cry for. 

Today, my husband gave away an expensive pair of shoes, which he had worn only a couple of times, to the labourers who tarred the streets in front of our apartment. The boys work in the hot sun, hands and feet blackened with the grime and tar they handle. Yet, they obliged the whims of every house-owner on the street and toiled to spread the tar neatly wherever they were requested to re-work. The charity was well-deserved.

Last night, I went to a friend's wedding with a couple of girlfriends. I love my outings with these girlfriends. A motley crowd we are, we have so much fun. Lots of laughter, complaining about bad traffic and the state of affairs in the state formed part of our conversation. One of the things we discussed was the decreasing quality of work everywhere. Flyovers being constructed for years on end, the Metro rail project repeatedly in the news for wrong reasons (constructions come crashing down on people & cars on the streets, poor quality work, stopped work, endless years of work, etc) and the recent failure of the cryogenic engine in ISRO's latest GSLV launch. So many instances of shoddy work. 

Admittedly, the cryogenic engine construction that took 15 years is complex work. It cannot have been easy to create something indigenous to put in space and expect it to go right the first time. As the ISRO spokesman said, the US and Japan failed in their debut attempts too. That does not undermine the fact that 330 crore rupees were spent on this project that took minutes to fail. With technology getting better everyday and science making progress like nobody's business, why do flyovers and other road constructions fail every other week?

While we were feeling sorry about the state of affairs, I woke up this morning to a ray of hope. Loud noise right outside my house drew us to our balconies. We found government labourers toiling away in the hot sun. Anything that is 'government office' straight away implies callous attitudes of workers and indifference to the quality of work. It was a pleasant surprise to see the level of attention the labourers worked with. The process involved a big machine pouring gravel mixed with tar and other ingredients on the road, a bunch of workers manually pouring the gravel in areas that were missed, another few guys spreading out the tar evenly, another big machine levelling the roads with a heavy drum that rolled over the tarred road. I found the labourers paying so much attention to detail that it surprised me! They looked for irregularities on the roads and poured gravel repeatedly, they ensured that the gravel was lined neatly on the road and off the stoned pavements, they manually flattened the gravel while the machine did it's job, they kept going back and forth until it looked fine. 

While the residents looked on, occasionally directing the labourers  to level here, pour some gravel there, the watchman's wife grabbed a broom and started sweeping the excess off the pavements back to the road. It was a collective effort of workers who were not worried about whether they enjoyed their work or not. They were not worried about the heat or hard work. If they were, they did not show it or let that stop them from doing things right. 

They were tipped for their extra efforts, of course. Some of our neighbours and we gave away shoes that we no longer wore but were still in good condition. It was heartening to watch the so-called government employees do a neat job and to see that there were people who appreciated such efforts. The world is a nice place, there are nice people. So, why do we let the bad-asses rule? Why do we 'adjust' ourselves to the ill-effects from the illegal acts of the wrong-doers? 

I have a colleague who prefers to take "shortcuts" and get everything done using wrong methods. He has a callous attitude and his excuse is "This is India, this is how we work". How untrue! Why do we let such people get away with what they do? All it took for me to shut him up last time was to say, "I am an Indian too and I don't work your way". Such a pity that the bad are so confident and take lead while the nicer ones choose to remain inconspicuous. 

To all those people who whine about the government but refuse to vote, to all those people who refuse to vote claiming that this is not their home-state (so why do you expect the state you are currently in, to cater to your needs?), to all those people who think their vote does not count, I want to ask: "How would you know whether your vote counts, if you never voted?". What gives them the right to expect anything from the government if they never made a choice? This year, I did not vote for a party that I usually do because I was put off by one of my neighbours who has a bad attitude (especially towards my dog) and he belonged to that party. I voted for someone else. He won. Now, we have roads where I live. I'd like to think my vote counted. 

It Happens Only In India

Remember those forwards with pictures of overloaded trucks, scooters carrying a family of 4 or 5, over-crowded buses? The subject line of the emails would say 'It happens only in India'. Here's my contribution to IHOIA.

Good: I saw these kids on my way to work one day. It brought back memories of my school days when I did the same. Double-riding with heavy school bags on my BSA SLR that lasted me nearly 10 years...

Bad: Come elections and there's a sudden surge of love for slum-dwellers. Guys from BBMP a.k.a Brihad Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike (Greater Bangalore Municipality Corporation) parked their bore-well drilling lorry bang in the middle of the road one fine morning. The morning wasn't really 'fine' after that. The men in the neighbourhood came down upon them real hard, quarreling about the parking, quarreling about the drilling and the attitude of the workers and just about everything. Finally, it took the cops to get them out of the way and make peace.

The Case Of The Stolen Wallet

It takes a lot to convince my husband to take me to a movie. Especially a Hindi movie. He hates sitting in the theatre for 3 hours. After 3 weeks of trying, I finally managed to get him to agree to watch 3 IDIOTS with me. Even better? Mum also agreed to come with us for a 7PM show. She never says yes to anything that's past the streetlights hour. I was in an awfully good mood that day.

Having lots my wallet numerous times during my college days - the routine of paying for a bus ticket, leaving it on my lap and walking away - I've grown to be excessively careful. I pulled out a note of 100 Rupees when I went for a snack in the afternoon, inserted the notes in the side pocket of my bag, taking care not to get the wallet out lest I lose it.

Come evening, the husband and mum left home in bro's car (how that happened is a story for another day - our car alarm going off, the punctured tyre, newbie girl driver, etc, etc). I was to meet them in Indiranagar, which is half the way for both of us. Considering that it was traffic hour, I decided that I could easily take a bus and still catch them in time. Faster than walking, slower than an auto (10 times cheaper too).

I wasn't wrong. I got off the bus and met them just as they reached the designated place. Brilliant! The bus ride seemed without much fuss. I got a seat pretty soon. I was holding it in front of me (beware of pick-pockets in crowded buses). I placed it on my lap and proceeded to check my email on my mobile. After frustrated attempts to connect to the internet, I gave up and began to enjoy the view outside. About 5 minutes before it my stop, I headed towards the front door. A minute later, a lady got on to the bus with a baby and I was forced to move the bag behind me. That's all it took! Five minutes for the pick-pocket and three weeks later, I am still under enormous stress!

We reached Lido (where the movie was playing) in the hellish traffic, where mum and I got off while the husband went ahead to park the car. I opened my bag to get out my credit card. No sign of my wallet! Oh hell! My new wallet, my favourite, my expensive Xmas gift. A beautiful brown wallet with the perfect number of compartments, well-placed, an awesome antique-metal coloured ring in the centre. My debit and credit cards, my Crossword card (paid 220 bucks and still not got my replacement), my Driving License (still haven't been able to get a replacement... expected cost - 1100 bucks) and about twelve hundred rupees. I never carry so much money... took money from the ATM the previous day for the car service, the thief got lucky!

I still haven't been able to lodge a police complaint. The cops at the Jeevan Bhima Nagar police station refused to register a complaint because it was not within their jurisdiction, asked me to go to the Indiranagar police station. The cops at the Indiranagar police station insisted I get a letter from the bank that I had indeed had a card in my name that had been blocked. The bank would give me a letter for the debit card but nothing for the credit card. They asked me to call the customer care. I called the customer care and they want me to go to the branch. Finally, after numerous calls and providing one of the 5 or 6 agents I spoke with, my entire "personal details" and yelling at her, I managed to have a request placed for my debit card replacement. A week later, the PIN has arrived, still no sign of card. The credit card, on the other hand, I can do nothing about. They have delinked it from my account, blocked it, won't let me cancel it or get a replacement - all because I cannot remember the incorrect PIN number they have registered against my address. Hell! However, they have no problems sending me a bill for a thousand bucks today. Hell again!

As luck would have it, I also had my office meal card in the wallet (never do that but that fateful day...). After about 5 emails, 2 phone calls and a week and half, I finally have my meal card.

I am yet to lodge a police complaint (wonder how much it will "cost me" to get an FIR), yet to get a duplicate driving license, yet to do something about the credit card and above all, yet to get over the loss of my wallet with all it's belongings. All because of one inconsiderate woman who took less than 5 minutes to grow rich, probably trash all the stuff I'm trying so hard to get together!