Slumdog Millionaire and White Tiger

So to follow up my last massive post, I wanted to talk about Slumdog Millionaire and White Tiger, which are the two easiest ways for anyone at home to get a sense of what India is really like.

Slumdog Millionaire (Warning: Slight plot spoiler) is an interesting movie in which the main character, Jamal Malik, progresses through the questions of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire," with each segment being interrupted with a flashback chronicling his difficult upbringing from orphan to his current position working in a call center and the intertwined story of the love of his life, Latika. While the story is very catching and the movie has its own merit, the most interesting part for me was seeing the portrayal of Indian culture. At the beginning of the movie, the slums in Mumbai are shown, and although I did not travel to Mumbai, Mike and Sam have told me this is a very accurate representation, and I have seen similar poverty in the rest of India. Later on, the director takes some artistic license by cleaning up the city for several scenes. For instance, there is a scene in the train station, and it looks like a regular bustling train station. However, by all accounts, there are literally thousands of homeless people sleeping on the platform, so merely walking to or from a train is a daunting task. It is also one of the worst smelling places on earth.

The depictions of children begging and their "masters" is also mostly accurate. Begging is so entrenched in Indian culture that poor parents will send out children to beg for money. Even worse, they will mutilate their own children, by blinding them or hacking off limbs, so that the pity will generate higher income. There is a scene depicting this sort of violence with a collective, where an entrepreneurial man (I use the term loosely) picks up orphan children and feeds them in exchange for their begging services. After they are old enough, he will mutilate them as well.

Later in the movie, Jamal's brother Salim says that India is the center of the new, developing world. Although I strongly disagree with this point of view, many Indians do seem to share it. They see high rise buildings going up and see that they have a large corporation (Tata), and they think they are the next world powerhouse. In reality, their building construction is so poor that the buildings look like they have aged fifty years before they are completed, and Tata is only internationally known because they provide every product to Indians, making it a billion dollar company.

White Tiger provides a more complete lesson as to the problems in India right now, from corruption to lack of education to lack of sanitation.

An excerpt:

One day, as I was driving my ex-employers Mr Ashok and Pinky Madam in their Honday City car, Mr Ashok put a hand on my shoulder, and said, 'Pull over to the side.' Following this command, he leaned forward so close that I could smell his aftershave - it was a delicious, fruitlike smell that day - and said, politely as ever, 'Balram, I have a few questions to ask you, all right?'
'Yes, sir,' I said.
'Balram,' Mr Ashok asked, ' how many planets are there in the sky?'
I gave the answer as best as I could.
'Balram, who was the first prime minister of India?'
And then: 'Balram, what is the difference between a Hindu and a Muslim?'
And then: 'What is the name of our continent?'
Mr Ashok leaned back and asked Pinky Madam, 'Did you hear his answers?'
'Was he joking?' she asked, and my heart beat faster, as it did every time she said something.
'No. That's really what he thinks the correct answers are.'
She giggled when she heard this: but his face, which I saw reflected in my rearview mirror, was serious.
'The thing is, he probably has... what, two, three years of schooling in him? He can read and write, but he doesn't get what he's read. He's half-baked. The country is full of people like him, I'll tell you that. And we entrust our glorious parliamentary democracy' - he pointed at me - 'to characters like these. That's the whole tragedy of this country.'
He sighed.
'All right, Balram, start the car again.'
That night, I was lying in bed, inside my mosquito net, thinking about his words. He was right, sir - I didn't like the way he had spoken about me, but he was right.
'The Autobiography of a Half-Baked Indian.' That's what I ought to call my life's story.
Me, and thousands of others in this country like me, are half-baked, because we were never allowed to complete our schooling. Open our skulls, look in with a penlight, and you'll find an odd museum of ideas: sentences of history or mathematics remembered from school textbooks (no boy remembers his schooling like one who was taken out of school, let me assure you), sentences about politics read in a newspaper while waiting for someone to come to an office, triangles and pyramids seen on the torn pages of the old geometry textbooks which every tea shop in this country uses to wrap its snacks in, bits of All India Radio news bulletins, things that drop into your mind, like lizards from the ceiling, in the half-hour before falling asleep - all these ideas, half formed and half digested and half correct, mix up with other half-cooked ideas in your head, and I guess these half-formed ideas bugger one another, and make more half-formed ideas, and this is what you act on and live with.

Although I find the narration style and actual plot less than perfect, the insight into Indian culture far outweighs any criticisms I have of the story. I have heard a few people comment on what they though about Slumdog Millionaire, but I am curious what everyone else thinks.

Blessed by an Elephant

I have to say this is a first, but it never hurts to have an elephant's blessing. That's an old Hindi saying, by the way.

Goings on

Lots of new stories up, but some new pictures have to wait, as the internet is really slow here in Hampi. I hope to have them up shortly!

Palolem and Immodium AD

One of the main reasons we wanted to come to the South of India and Goa in particular was the lure of the beaches. Getting away from the poor air quality, crazy urban transportation system, and densely packed people with poor sanitation habits was another plus.

So after a day in Panjim and a day in Old Goa, we concluded it was time to hit the beach. For the sake of immersion, we passed up taking a taxi (probably around 1500 rupees or $15, divided evenly would have been $5 a person), we took the bus (40 rupees or $.80 each). First we took the bus from Panjim to Margao, then from Margao to Palolem. The bus rides were uneventful, except on the second bus we were separated from our luggage and could not see it after the bus became packed. I was rather worried for a while that this attempt to stay “local” could end up costing us our luggage. When we arrived, however, our luggage was safe in tow.

We grabbed an auto rickshaw, which took us to the beach. As soon as we had set foot on the beach, Mike exclaimed, “What have we been doing in north India for so long?!” They had been traveling to many interesting cultural places up north, but had yet to set foot on a beach. I, on the other hand, had just arrived ten days earlier, but was still happy for the nice scenery.

After hunting for a short while, we found “Tony Cottage Cocohuts.” No, I am not making that name up. It is a collection of beach huts in a row on the beach. There is running water and a toilet in each hut, which is elevated about 3 feet off the ground. In two days, the three of us could have build a nicer hut. It had bamboo supports and plywood floors. The ceiling was bamboo supports with a tarp on top. There was about a 20 cm gap between the wall and the ceiling, and a 4 cm gap in the corners between the walls. This was nice because it virtually ensured we would have plenty of mosquitos to keep us company at night. As a kind gesture, we were given undersized mattresses and a mosquito net, which did help somewhat.

The beach was gorgeous. Palm trees everywhere, an island in the distance, and despite being one of the more “touristy” beaches, quite a lot of space for ourselves to be able to relax.

There were a couple of unique features about this beach. At least, there were a few things that I had never seen. A small river actually met up with the Arabian sea on the beach here, and there are literally millions of small crabs running around and burying themselves in the sand. This is a picture of one of the larger crabs attacking another creature in a conical shell. The first night we were there we also saw two bulls attacking each other, in a fight that lasted well over two hours. The strangest part about it was that they would occasionally lose interest and just look away from each other, before eventually resuming the fight.

Palolem proved to be a very comfortable place in some ways, as we did not have any sights to see, allowing us to relax and catch up on some reading during the day, have a few drinks and watch the sun set in the evening, and eat an extravagant meal at night for a cheap price. In a few other ways it was not quite what we had expected. We all wasted a fair amount of time trying to find a precious few things that we wanted or needed. I wanted sunglasses, shower shoes, and a backpack. I ended up buying shower shoes, and it took me 7 hours of shopping to get those and realize all of the sunglasses and backpacks were too low in quality to purchase. Mike and Sam had similar experiences looking for books, necklaces, and sunglasses for themselves. Also, the beach huts provided us with a few issues. The mosquitoes were a nuisance at night, the mattresses were almost impossible to sleep on, and there were enough crows cawing at 5 in the morning to make you wake up thinking you were in a live enactment of “Birds.” The biggest problem turned out to be coincidental to our location. All of the Indian food I had been eating since I arrived finally caught up with me. My stomach could not handle it. While at an Italian restaurant, I had to make a break for it. Afterwards, I popped a couple Immodium AD and stuck to light foods for the next day and I turned out to be ok.

Our one real adventure was getting out of Palolem. The train we wanted to Hampi left from Margao at 8 in the morning four days a week: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday. Since it was Tuesday, we made plans to take the train the next morning. Later on, Sam came back from the internet café: “Guys, it’s not Tuesday… It’s Thursday!” Well, this changed our plans. We decided to leave on Sunday, but for some reason did not book our train tickets. On Saturday evening, when we finally got around to booking it, the train was full. After talking to our Irish hut-neighbors, we agreed to split a cab with them to Margao and to buy waiting class tickets. This could mean that we would end up spending 7 (or more) hours standing on a train in 32 degree heat.

We packed up our bags the night before, woke up at 6 and hopped in the cab. We bought the tickets and somehow were able to keep seats and beds for the entire journey to Hampi. Phew. As Mike and Sam had discovered previously, the easiest way to avoid conflict with anyone on the train was to just not to acknowledge them when they talk to you and they will go away. Arguing with them does not get you anywhere. A conductor checked our tickets once and told us to move but left the cabin before we did. On his subsequent trips through the cabin, we looked away and he did not say anything. An interesting culture, indeed.

Panjim and Old Goa

Upon arriving at the airport in Goa, which is really nothing more than an old military landing strip, complete with old Russian aircraft rusting away, we decided to head to Panjim, the more touristy city close by. Of note was the 30 degree heat, a welcome change from the weather, which was getting down to about 5 or 10 degrees at night in Delhi.

Panjim proved to be culturally refreshing. The touts did not follow us for blocks; they would ask if we wanted their service, then go back to relaxing. People were not starting fires in the streets. Come to think of it, the streets almost seemed clean. There was not an excess of people flooding the street either. Was this really still India?

After finding a restaurant with a nice atmosphere, we ordered a much different dinner than we had been accustomed to: fish. Hard to find in the north, fish and fish curries are very common in the south. We were happy to partake, and I ordered the barracuda. Mike had stuffed lobster, and Sam had seafood pasta. The total bill came to about $20. Later we found a one hour cruise boat that we decided to take the next night.

The next day, Sam and I headed to Old Goa to check out some of the historical sites there. Being the center of the old Portuguese colony, there was bound to be plenty of interesting historical sites.

After a half an hour bus ride, we were able to walk around the small town. After malaria and cholera outbreaks, the Portuguese moved the capital, and all that remains are the religious buildings. Due to the tropical climate, the (mostly likely) beautiful painting and engraving on the walls was plastered over, and now only a white color remains in each of them. In the picture, you can see the original painting, the first time it was painted over in pink, and the most recent time it was painted over in white. The altars, which were also originally quite spectacular, are less than impressive. This is mainly due to the fact they are gilded, and most of the gold has worn away due to time and lack of maintenance.

Without going into too much of the history, there were a few interesting pieces. At the viceroy’s arch at the entrance to the town from the river, there is a statue of a bible-toting figure with his foot on the throat of a native (pictured). St. Catherine’s Cathedral is actually bigger than any church in Portugal and took eighty years to build. During the Inquisition, the ringing of the golden bell signified that auto da fes were taking place, which meant the public could come to heckle and torture suspected heretics in the plaza outside. We also went to the Archbishop’s Palace, the Church of St. Francis of Assisi, the Basilica of Bom Jesus, and finally Holy Hill. In the Chapel of Our Lady of the Rosary is the tomb of Catarina a Piro, the first woman to set foot in the colony.

After six hours of hiking around town, we went back to Panjim, where Mike had been working all day. Upon our return, we went to a ultra-modern (by India’s standards anyway) European café, complete with espresso drinks, extravagant pastries, and gelato. Seriously, this does not even feel like the same country as Agra and Delhi.

Fatehpur Sikri, the Taj Mahal, Humayun's Tomb, Qutub Minar, and the Bahai Temple

So my first week or so in India has been a veritable wave of culture shock, while at the same time I feel like my days are being spent at one UNESCO world heritage site after another. Here is where I have been so far (the titles are Wikipedia links), along with a few pictures - just a taste.

Update: Now with actual stories!

Fatehpur Sikri: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fatehpur_Sikri

Fatehpur Sikri proved to be quite a stunning fort. It was built in the middle of the 1500’s by the Mughals, who seemed to be the most adept Indian rulers at building anything (They are also responsible for the Taj Mahal). Built as a palace and town, it was eventually abandoned as a palace when the capital was moved back to Delhi. The ruins are still quite interesting. The king had a Hindu, Muslim, and Christian wife and each had her own respective temple, mosque, and chapel. The pillar (pictured) outside of the fort is the grave of an elephant who was beloved by the ruling family. The spikes outside (I believe there are 44) represent all of the people who were put to death by means of the elephant stomping on them. In my mind, this is not a very pleasant way to go. There used to be a lake beyond this pillar, but it has been drained and used to irrigate the land, and now there is a lush valley. One of the most impressive parts of the fort was one room with an ornate column carved in the middle (pictured).

After the formal tour of the palace town, we met with with Mr. Faridi, who gave us a personal tour of the rest of the complext. We were able to go into the tomb of the saint and tie hope strings to the wall. Then we were fortunate enough to climb up the tower, to a point where other people are not normally allowed to go. The view was breathtaking.

We were invited to have lunch with Mr. Faridi, which turned out to be the best Indian meal I have ever had, by far. Along with a wide variety of chicken, mutton, cheese, rice, and roti, he served Zerda. Zerda is an orange rice, with caramelized grapes, some unnamed red sweet rice, with almonds and some other fruit. It was originally brought out after everyone was already full, but yet each person had at least three servings. We were all going to burst.

Taj Mahal: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taj_mahal

Although we were supposed to leave Fatehpur Sikri around 1:00, it was now around 3:45, and we needed to get to the Taj Mahal before it closed. Despite his exceedingly fast (read: completely insane) driving style, our new driver, who was named Zafer, was not able to get us to Agra in time. The complete lack of signs to one of the most recognizable monuments in the world was not helpful. Remember that theses streets are not organized, but rather it is a collection of back alleys. Mike, Sam, and I decided to stay overnight to see the Taj Mahal in the morning, since it would be very difficult to justify another 5 hour trip back there later on. The rest of our group was not able to stay, as they had to work the next day. We had a quick drink and parted ways.

Finding a hotel proved to be extremely easy, despite it being high tourist season. We made plans to wake up and see the Taj as it opened.

When we got to the gate the next morning, we realized that the fog in place would prohibit us from seeing the true sunrise reflecting on the Taj, but that did not stop our enjoyment of the complex. There is an outer garden, with a gate inscribed with a few verses from the Koran leading into the main area. When I turned the corner and was able to see the actually Taj Mahal, I was blown away. It is one of those awe-inspiring structures that looks so amazing when you see it in pictures, but in the back of your mind you know it is so much better in person. Well, it is. Instead of creating a disappointing effect, the fog made the Taj look mystical.

We spent about four hours walking around the area, investigating all of the interesting vegetation, the mosque, the actual Taj, and the columns. I found it very interesting that the columns were built to lean slightly outward, so that in the event of a catastrophe, they would fall outward. We all agreed that the most amazing part is the simplicity. The architecture itself is very simple and stunningly elegant. The Taj Mahal is definitely on a short list of the most impressive things I have seen in my life.

That evening, we took a train back to Delhi and spent one more night at Iftah and Martha’s house. The next day we moved to the hotel with the bugs in Paharganj and then to another hotel in the area.

Humayun's Tomb: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humayun%27s_tomb

While Mike was working to resolve some computer problems, Sam and I went to Humayun’s tomb. Leaving most of the history out, this was another very impressive structure. We noticed that whenever a site gets UNESCO world heritage status, India somehow gets its act together and starts to restore and maintain the site. When they do this, however, they charge the locals 10 rupees to get in and foreigners 250 rupees. While only $5, it is still an insult that we have to pay 25x what a local does to see these sites. Talk about profiteering.

Anyway, Humayun’s tomb is very impressive. It predates the Taj Mahal and was actually used as the main source of inspiration for it. Upon entering, there is another tomb on the right side, but walking straight leads to the tomb. I liked the white marble used for the Taj Mahal better than the red sandstone used here, but nonetheless it had a simple elegance as well. I actually liked the surrounding garden, with plenty of beautiful trees better than the surrounding area in the Taj Mahal complex.

Qutub Minar: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qutub_minar

The next day, we went to Qutub Minar, which is quite an elegant structure (again, built by the Muslims) in Delhi. Each stone is interlocking, so absolutely no mortar was used in the construction. It was originally designed to be a one story victory tower, with later floors added on afterwards. Now, from above, the tower looks like an opening lotus flower, and on the sides there are many verses of the Koran inscribed on each floor. In the complex, there is an iron pole. Although it seems unremarkable at first glance, it came from before a time when refined smelting was invented to create a pole that could last this long. It is a mystery as to how this pole could have been created. I found it fascinating.

It was here that I had my first up close and personal encounter with the ever-present caste system. Despite having purchased tickets, two teenage boys were slapped across the face at full force by a guard, simply because they were not in the proper caste to enter. Nearly everyone with any money in India employs servants to do most of their work, including errands. Although mostly hidden to the outside eye, the masters can be very violent and beat the servants. It is very troubling that this way of life still exists and is omnipresent in society. What’s worse is that the servants expect it and feel that they deserve to be beaten when they do something wrong. They have a servant mindset, which is a direct result of the Hindu caste system. I am not sure if it can be called racist per se, but it is one of the most blatant forms of prejudice that I have ever seen.

Bahai Lotus Temple: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lotus_Temple

After leaving Qutub Minar, we headed to the Bahai Temple, one of the seven in the world. It is a place where people of all religions can go and reflect. This temple is in the shape of a lotus flower and is very elegant on the outside. The inside is also interesting, with the light being used on hidden windows to illuminate the entire temple. Entering was also a surprisingly orderly process. Workers from the temple would create a line and take groups of people to one of the eight or nine entrances. After being explained the rules of silence, the group would be led into the temple and allowed to sit for as long as they would like. There were an incredible amount of visitors, and it was kept very orderly. The other Bahai temple I have seen is in Wilmette, Illinois, and that temple was not nearly as spectacular as this one.

Well, that concludes our time in Delhi. After initially planning on a 30 hour train ride to Goa, which no doubt would have turned into a 45 hour train ride, we decided to pay up and take a 2 hour flight. After one day souvenir shopping, we are on our way to the south!

My First Day in India

After my initial arrival adventure, I slept for a few hours and awoke somewhat early the next morning. We were going to start the trip off with a bang and head to the Taj Mahal. At breakfast, I found out that our hosts Martha and Iftah had already arranged for us to be able to have a semi-private tour with Mr. Faridi at Fatehpur Sikri. He is the 17th descendent of the patron saint, and is next in line as guardian of the property. This was going to be a great and unique experience. We were going to drive up there tonight, have a tour tomorrow morning, and then head to Agra to see the Taj in the afternoon. Sounds like a great plan.

I guess this is as good of a time as any to explain what happens to plans in India. There is absolutely no amount of planning that can account for every thing that can and will go wrong. If I am planning on a 4 hour train ride, I had better not make any plans for the next 6 hours afterwards, because the train will show up 3 hours late and lose another 3 hours somewhere along the trip. Don’t ask me how it happens. It just does. Everything takes twice as long as you would expect, there will be plenty of hassles, and definitely a few unexpected things will go wrong. Knowing this in advance, of course, makes it a little easier. You plan FAR more time than would otherwise be needed, and you realize that you need to laugh at how absurd these situations are.

So right after breakfast, I had my first monkey experience. Walking outside to pack the car, there was a man riding around on a bike with a monkey on a leash (pictured). This man was actually employed by the U.S. embassy to bring his monkey around and scare off other monkeys that might bother the predominantly U.S. residents in the area. Of course, just because he was being paid to do this did not stop him from asking each resident in the area for money as well. This is not uncommon; there is no guiding principal in the culture that would prevent this type of double-dipping. In fact, it is encouraged by the Hindu culture.

The drive to Fatehpur Sikri was trying. Still jet-lagged, I had to deal with a complete nightmare of traffic as we were leaving the city. Cows, cycle rickshaws, auto rickshaws, cars, trucks, and pedestrians all compete for the same two lanes of road. The only true rule of the road is that if you are ahead, you have the right of way. The noxious fumes from people burning everything from plastic bags to cow feces to shoes on the side of the road leave the horizon looking and smelling three times worse than LA on its worst day. This combination almost made me car sick for the first time in my life.

The distance we were traveling was the equivalent to going from Chicago to Champaign, a journey that should only take two hours. Going from Delhi to Fatehpur Sikri, however, took seven hours of driving time. Over the course of the journey, our car hit two people with the mirror, the other car in our entourage ran over a dog, we saw a dead horse laying by the side of the road, and I stopped and peed outside, with about twenty people within close proximity. A group of these people were in their open-air living room watching tv. Believe me, this was more than awkward for me, and an eye-opening way to get used to the country. But it was not unusual for them – there were two other people peeing in the same vicinity as me.

We arrived for a short Sufi (a type of Muslim) religious ceremony at Fatehpur Sikri, headed by Mr. Faridi’s father. Although quite interesting, there were about 300 flies buzzing around a 15x20 foot room, which drove me absolutely insane. None of the natives seemed to be really concerned about it, however.

At our air cooled hotel (read: no heat, no air conditioning), the temperature dipped down to about 5 degrees Celsius, which, when combined with me not being accustomed to the time zone yet, caused me to wake up around 5:30 am. Today, Fatehpur Sikri and then the Taj Mahal!

Bed bugs!!!

Hard to believe that in this neighborhood there were bugs crawling all over us at night. Sam and I woke up repeatedly, and we got out of that hotel first thing in the morning.

Desk clerk: "How was your stay? Was everything ok?"
Sam: "Well, we're leaving because there were a lot of bugs in our room, on our mattresses. I wonder if it was from the blankets that have not been washed?"
Desk clerk: "Oh, ok."

Awesome.