Hyderablog

Mango Walk

2005-09-28T09:13:00.000-07:00

Spend any amount of time in India, and you're bound to understand pretty quickly the undeniable importance of The Mango. While it's true that in the deep south in Kerala, for instance, it's the coconut that's king, without question on the national level it's the mango that emerges as the favorite national fruit. For me on the other hand, growing up in the eastern U.S., mangoes always had an exotic, "what do I do with this?" sort of feeling to them. "What is it...a papaya?... How do I peel it?... It's so messy", etc. And not to mention the fact that they're impossibly expensive, now somewhere around $1 to $2 apiece I believe. It all hardly seems worth it, especially when you contemplate the fibrous, potatoey specimens they pass off as mangoes in many of the local markets.

(These days, you can place an online order for Indian mangoes through DHL's Mango Express service, though I'm not sure delivery is available in the U.S.)

Here in Hyderabad, and indeed throughout India, MANGOES = SUMMER, which runs roughly from April to mid-June. In these steamy but oddly blessed months, one encounters mangos in all shapes, sizes and flavors, each sweeter and juicier than the next. And of course, they're prepared and consumed in a multitude of ways - mango juice, mango curry, mango salsa, mango ice cream, dried mango, mango jelly, to name but a few. Without question, though, the fruit is best when enjoyed fresh, uncooked and just a bit chilled - slice it, cut it into chunks, scoop it out with a spoon, or for God's sake if you're really desperate just take hold of the large stone in the center, and then suck off what remains of the flesh until the juice starts dripping down the length of your forearm!

In the summer months, the mangoes (in a good year) are so abundant that they literally drop from the trees, spill off the fruit carts, practically calling out to be gobbled up. Indeed, one of the rewards for sticking it out through a summer in India (with temps. exceeding 100 F quite frequently) is the joy of stuffing oneself full of cheap, delicious, fresh mango every day. By mid-June, when the monsoon arrives and the heat finally abates, the mango supply sadly and without sufficient notice dwindles, and there's not a good one to be had for another 9 or 10 months.

To be frank, this entry was inspired by the latest mango product to which I've been exposed here....Kellogg's Mango Corn Flakes! Usha brought this into the house the other day, and Maya was quite game to be the guinea pig / taster. I must say they're not bad, if a bit strange. In fact, they do have a distinct mango flavor, but on the downside they leave tend to leave behind an orange-colored milk in the cereal bowl! Since we're still about six months away from the next mango season, I suppose this must suffice.....can't wait until next summer!

One of my favorite mango songs: http://www.audiosparx.com/sa/play/play.cfm/sound_iid.159880 (hit the Preview Play button)

Posin' by the Pool

2005-06-11T03:53:00.000-07:00

The digital camera was broken for a few months…hence no blog entries for some time (at least that's the story I'm going with). Anyway, we finally got it fixed in time to get these shots of Maya at her swimming class at the Taj Banjara hotel. Here she is with her super-cool swim instructor, Mr. Moss, whom she just adores. To Maya, Mr. Moss is some kind of water God, combining all the attributes of Aquaman and King Triton, with a bit of P. Diddy thrown in for good measure.

Maya and her friend Tanziel cross paths (i.e. near-collision), and then later at poolside.

Here, the Sports Illustrated camera crew must be about to show up, or so it would seem from the pose.

Shopping for Catheters

2005-02-25T04:16:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, my driver Santosh and his wife Anu lost the baby they were expecting; Anu was seven months pregnant. I'm not certain of exactly what happened, but I do know they had to rush to the hospital very early in the morning and a short time later were told the baby could not be saved. Now, I have no idea whether or not their baby would have been OK had they been in a better hospital or in a different city - the baby was quite small, it turned out. There's really no way to know for sure - given some differences in language and culture between us and Santosh, we never got a full sense of what happened.

What we did, get, though, was some sense as to how he and his family were treated in the course of this difficult experience. Shortly after arriving at the hospital, Santosh was sent out "shopping" - the hospital could provide only one unit of blood free of charge, so he was dispatched to find a blood bank and return with 2 more units of the right type of blood (not a particularly rare type, I might add). The blood was very expensive relative to his income....I just hope the blood he got was clean, given the large amount he paid for it.

Separately, he was given a prescription to procure some kind of catheter that was needed for his wife. So, there he was, running around town in the very early morning, shopping for blood and tubes when he should have been with his family in the hospital. Aren't hospitals supposed to HAVE blood and tubes? Isn't that why we GO to hospitals in the first place? While I'm certain it had nothing to do with the blood or catheter, the baby died shortly thereafter. Santosh was given this very sad "receipt" summing up the incident. It said, simply:

Date of Arrival: Feb. 21, '05
Date of Delivery: Feb. 21, '05, 6:45am
Date of Death: Feb. 21, '05 (five minutes later). Dead female baby. 700 grams. Handed over to patient's attendants.

Again, I don't know the full details of what really happened, but my suspicion is that neither do Santosh or his family. Rather, my guess is that this little slip of paper is all he received by way of an explanation before being sent on his way. And this, together with being ordered to go out and purchase his own medical supplies in the middle of this emergency, sums up the callousness with which I feel he was treated. While the outcome might not have been any different in a better facility, I do believe the treatment he received could and certainly should have been more humane. I should not have been too surprised by this; there's a distinct harshness that characterizes how a certain class of people here are dealt with by the government and other faceless institutions. It's rather heartbreaking, especially in situations like this.

So the next time I blither on about the excellent quality of life here, the relaxed pace, amenities....blah blah blah - please feel free to remind me that it's certainly not that way for many people. The fact is, most people here have much more difficult lives and work far harder than you or I ever will, with much less to "show" for it in some respects. And yet, oddly, most people seem genuinely happy with their lives and what they have, and go about their day with with a smile on their face. Something to be learned from that, I suppose.

Morning Commute

2005-02-19T05:26:00.000-08:00

On my morning drive to the office the other day, I ran into, literally, a series of minor roadblocks, which when I thought about the commute later, seemed to say at least a little something about the experience of living in India. First, my driver and I hit a bit of a traffic jam as the car passed by a gas station (or petrol pump, as they're known here) that was opening for business for the first time that very morning. I recalled the previous morning, when as we passed by the same spot, a large sign promised "Opening Tomorrow." Just behind the sign sat two bored looking attendants, feet up and arms folded, as if prepared to wait in that very spot for the next 24 hours until the pumps started flowing.

Business openings, even for ventures as utilitarian as gas stations, are quite a big deal here. Rarely is an office or new business inaugurated without selecting an auspicious day on which to do it, performing a puja expressly geared toward achieving success in business, and inviting family, friends and perhaps a local dignatary or two to grace the opening with their presence. Sweets are distributed, bells rung, coconuts cracked...the works. With some luck, the local media may turn up as well. In this case, a policeman stood in the street outside the "event" redirecting traffic, while a banner at the entrance to the station announced the inauguration and welcomed some official or other (State Minister for Petroleum Products?), who no doubt would declare the station open for business and perhaps pump the first ceremonial liter. I wonder if he got a free tankful himself...at about 43 rupees per liter ($3.79 per gallon), gas is one of the few things that's more expensive here than in the U.S.

Another inauguration, this time that of a just-constructed Hindu temple, briefly stopped us in our tracks a few blocks later. Some weeks earlier, I had noticed that a new temple was being built in the area. I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to this, essentially because temples are everywhere here and come in all shapes and sizes, whether informal toll booth-sized structures on the roadside, or gated compounds with their own parking, connected auditoriums, etc. This one had apparently just been completed, and to make its presence known in the neighborhood, the temple (obviously one with a bit of money) had placed, right in the middle of the street, a large colorful canopy and a small stage. A hundred or so plastic chairs were placed right in front of the stage. An opening ceremony was clearly imminent. I was briefly puzzled as to how a temple could simply take over a street like this, wreaking havoc with local traffic. Pretty quickly I came to my senses and remembered where I was: God is everywhere here, and even spills out into the street on occasion. And if any permission was required in order to secure the street for this event, chances are that whomever granted it was likely sitting in one of the little plastic chairs, right up front. We found another way to go.

A few blocks later, we found a large trench being dug in the middle of the street through which we usually pass. Equipment, mounds of dirt, no way through. I couldn't tell for sure, but to me it appeared as if they were laying down a line of fiber optic cable with which to wire the neighborhood for high-speed Internet access, cable or some other digital service. We took an alternate route to avoid this. Finally, within a few blocks of the office, we came to a stop, as a small group of cows, together with their "caretaker", crossed the road in front of us. These were decidedly low-speed, with nothing digital about them; they took their sweet time, not the least bit bothered by the fact that we were waiting for them, and now late for work by a solid 15 minutes. Go figure.

Hyderabad Crime Beat: Swords, Rowdies and Henchmen

2005-02-08T00:18:00.000-08:00

At breakfast this morning, I noticed a short article in the Deccan Chronicle about a mob that attacked and murdered a local thug who, at least according to the report, more or less had it coming to him. A combination of the circumstances and the style of reporting makes for interesting reading:

Gang Smashes Rowdy's Head
Hyderabad, Feb. 7: A gang murdered a 32-year-old rowdy on Saturday night, smashing his head with boulders in Rajendranagar. Police said that Meer Kazim Ali Razvi, a notorious land-grabber and a rowdy, was meeting his henchmen near the Surya Rao toddy shop in Rajendranagar, when about a dozen persons attacked him with swords, knives and sticks. They chased him and smashed his head with boulders before fleeing in two cars and a scooter....

While clearly quite a gruesome account, it's actually not unlike some of what you might read in the New York Post. And at least there's some comfort to be taken from the fact that the weapons of choice here tend to be good, old-fashioned rocks, sticks, and knives as opposed to (the far deadlier) handguns. For the uninitiated, a toddy shop is a roadside shop that sells illicit liquor.

A Few Days In Calcutta

2004-12-20T10:08:00.000-08:00

After spending several chilly and relaxing days in Darjeeling, we stopped in Calcutta (now called Kolkata) for a few days before heading back to Hyderabad. Certainly, Calcutta's reputation is far from shining, and in many ways the place is everything you'd expect if you've ever read anything about it or seen the film City of Joy. In short, it's congested, dirty, poor and more or less in a state of decay - essentially what you might have in your mind when you visualize an overcrowded, Indian city.

However, since Usha grew up in the city, and to this day has extremely fond memories of her childhood there, she made sure to show me some of the brighter spots, of which there were quite a few. Most interestingly, Calcutta remains a relatively sophisticated cultural, political and intellectual hub in a way that certainly Hyderabad is not. People are well-read and educated there, there is a thriving film community and the city has produced many celebrated poets, authors and filmmakers. There's a distinct pride and vibrancy about the place, despite outward appearances.

There remains in Calcutta a strong British influence, and I was pleased to see the extent to which sports and physical fitness are emphasized (relative to Hyderabad, where far and away people's favorite pastime is eating!). I even got in a round of golf during my stay, while Usha caught up with her old school friends, and Maya had endless play-dates with their kids. The two of them paid a visit to Usha's old school, where some of her old teachers were still kicking around, and Maya was given the royal treatment as the daughter of a returning alum.

Up in Darjeeling

2004-12-16T20:16:00.000-08:00

We spent a few relaxing days in the hill station of Darjeeling, way up in the Himalayas in the northeast of India. It's quite close to Nepal and Bhutan, and in fact the features of the people there, the food and the topography make it feel more like Nepal than India.

Not to mention the weather. It was quite cold there, colder than we've been in some time, especially if you discount the artificial experience of Snow World in Hyderabad. While it's not "New York winter" cold, there is little indoor heating in Darjeeling, so what it is outdoors is pretty much what you get inside. The place we stayed in Darjeeling was very accommodating, and made things cozy with a fireplace in our room, hot water bottles in our beds, and an electric heater (which we'd huddle around when all else failed).

Of course, it was all entirely worth it, especially when you consider the view from our room. The tallest peak of this range is the third tallest mountain in the world. Views of Everest (#1) can be had a short hour's ride away from Darjeeling, but a combination of laziness and being spoiled by the local scenery kept us from straying too far from town.

Darjeeling is essentially a small, picturesque city built into the side of a cliff. All the roads are hilly, and hiking up and down them remains one of the main attractions. A few times we gave Maya an extended pony ride , which enabled her to ride happily from place to place while we hiked alongside and tried in vain to work off some of the many momos (the local dumpling delicacy) we sampled while there.

We visited a few Buddhist monasteries nearby, which were incredibly beautiful and atmospheric, especially set against the mountains as they were. Plus, outside one of them I got to play hacky-sack with one of the monks!

Ho...Ho...Hyderabad

2004-12-12T01:43:00.000-08:00

Yes, Santa makes it to Hyderabad, here to deliver Maya a gift along with a school Merit Award, which she got for "using innovative ideas to make her story interesting."

Big Fish, Small Pond Part 2

2004-11-14T22:22:00.000-08:00

For those who enjoyed seeing me sneeze in The Hindu article on foreigners and allergies, I suspect you may find this amusing as well. Usha and I were "featured" recently in an Indian Express piece about inter-cultural weddings and marriages. And while I'm quite familiar with the "there's no such thing as bad publicity" concept, after reading this I began to wonder. It's more than a little goofy, with phrases like "lovemate", "cosy-cosy" and "hero" sprinkled in liberally. Oh well.....at least we can console ourselves with the knowledge that very little of what we were quoted as having said actually came out of our mouths! Maya took the photo of us that they included in the article, which partly explains its off-center and slightly skewed appearance.

A Walk through Charminar

2004-11-12T09:09:00.000-08:00

One of Hyderabad's best-known districts, the Charminar area, also called the "old city", is the heart of the Muslim community. We took a walk through the area one night just before Id, which marks the end of the holy month of Ramzan.

With most people there fasting during the day, at night the streets completely overflow with activity. Most noticeable are the bangle sellers, haleem hawkers and other vendors selling fabrics, clothes, kitchen items and all kinds of other stuff, well into the early morning hours.

Ramzan also overlaps with the Hindu festival season, which culminates with Diwali. Hence, the atmosphere is pretty festive all around.

Through-the-Car-Window Photo Series

2004-11-06T02:30:00.000-08:00

These were all taken on the way to the ICRISAT campus about 25 km outside of Hyderabad. Maya's school runs their Saturday Sports program out there, so we drive out there semi-regularly for swimming, soccer, etc. The drive takes you through some interesting countryside and small villages.

Halloween Hungama

2004-11-01T20:49:00.000-08:00

Well, Halloween came and went over here pretty quietly. Honestly, it barely registers on the holiday/festival radar, and is nothing in comparison to the all-out, spooky way in which it's celebrated in Park Slope. Partly this is because it falls smack in the middle of the major Indian festival season, which culminates with Diwali, one of the biggest (and best, for kids) holidays observed throughout the country. Still, Maya had a small Halloween party to go to, so of course we needed to rustle up some sort of costume for her.

Not wishing to trot out her Spider Man get-up from last year, we decided to build on Maya's recent interest in writing her own song lyrics and belting them out from time to time around the house in dramatic fashion ("I don't know why she left me!" , "Love me or not!" , etc.). So she decided she would dress as a ROCK STAR. We were able to piece together a few things from around the house and in her dress-up box.

Honestly, we were a bit schizophrenic about exactly what type of rock star she would be, with Usha pushing for the 60's, Joni Mitchell sort of thing, Maya (inexplicably) wanting to go punk, and me suggesting something in the 80's, glam rock category. In the end, we threw in a bit of everything, the result being a respectable, if somewhat "all-purpose" rock star. With the guitar, torn jeans and bandana (not to mention the harmonica tucked into her jeans pocket), I think the look was predominantly flower child. Still, Maya was satisfied with the blue hair and safety pins in her shirt that we threw in for good measure.

A Complete Absence of Yankees-Red Sox Fever

2004-10-20T22:54:00.000-07:00

It's ten or so in the morning here, and I've just watched the Red Sox beat the Yankees 10-3 in ALCS Game 7 to win the American League pennant. I say "watched" but what I really mean is I've been sitting in my office in front of a computer monitor filled with information and statistics, plus a plethora of static graphics representing the baseball diamond, players, runs, balls and strikes, all intended to convey the feel of actually watching the game live, pitch-by-pitch. Baseball via the Internet .... gee, you can almost smell the hot dogs and beer, huh?

Since the playoff games happen when it's early AM here, starting at around 6AM, I would have preferred just to get up early and watch the games on TV at home. Not surprisingly, though, no channel here was carrying the game. Last year at the same time, I recall that some of the playoffs were shown live on ESPN in the morning. However, that channel is no longer provided by our cable operator. This is not uncommon, as stations come and go with some regularity here, depending on the financial and legal squabbles of the networks and operators and their efforts to squeeze more money out of the subscribers. Unlike when the channels are "shuffled" in the U.S. (i.e. cable companies mail out the new channel "lineup", complete with handy self-sticking guide for the remote), here the channel assignments change frequently and without warning, and one must simply hunt around to find what you're looking for. Well, I shouldn't really complain, given that for 100 rupees a month (just a hair over $2), we're getting CNN, BBC, CNBC, HBO, Discovery, Animal Planet, Cartoon Network, Nick, etc, plus of course a full selection of regional music and entertainment offerings in Hindi, Telegu, Bengali, Tamil, Malayalam...

Still, it was quite maddening to turn on the TV this AM, hoping someone on this side had come to his senses and recognized the sheer historical signficance of this game! No such luck. Instead, I found (among other things): The Hollywood Squares, Gilligan's Island (in Hindi!), championship wrestling, Sesame Street, and something with Steven Seagal (viewers here are fed a steady diet of Bollywood heriones and action stars, and along with Stallone and the now-governor of California, at least one of these guys is always on here). The non-wrestling sports coverage consisted of football (soccer), tennis, some bit about the Ryder Cup golf and, of course, cricket. I wonder if they'll wise up in time for the World Series. There's one die-hard Red Sox fan I know over here .... I'm sure he's figured out some way to see the games.

Golconda Fort

2004-10-20T03:23:00.000-07:00

We took a trip outside the city recently to visit Golconda Fort, one of Hyderabad's true historical wonders. The fortress dates back to the 12th century, and is well-known not only for its architectural and engineering achievements, but also for having been one of the world's most important diamond and gem trading areas. Among other things, it is said to be the source of the famous Kohinoor diamond. While there, Maya did her best to lift the 250kg weight that's apparently been lying around for 900 or so years, the original purpose of which I forgot amidst all the excitement that seemed to accompany us foreigners trying in vain to lift it.

The day we went happened to be Gandhi Jayanthi (birth anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi), and to celebrate we took along our driver, maid (and her daughter) and turned the day into a field trip/picnic.

Admittedly, I am too lazy to post all of my own photos taken during our visit, except the few here. And this one. OK...one more. However, I discovered some excellent pictures of the fort (and many others taken around Hyderabad and South India) on this website.

Helmet Law...a Second Coming?

2004-10-12T01:33:00.000-07:00

Hyderabad is a city that crawls with motorcycles. Together with scooters, they outnumber cars on the road. Yet despite the preponderance of two-wheelers, as they're called here, the percentage of riders that wear helmets is alarmingly low. I would estimate that no more than 20% of riders wear helmets. Even scarier is that there are easily more helmet-wearers than there are people who wear seat belts when riding in cars. It was only recently that new cars began coming equipped with rear seat belts, and child safety seats are pretty much non-existent here. Kids often ride up front in the passenger seat, unbelted, and sometimes little ones will sit in the driver's seat between dad's legs, "helping" him drive. Perhaps most inexplicable is that a good many drivers choose to fold their car's side-view mirrors inward toward the car, rendering them unusable. I guess the idea is that if no one else is paying attention or using their mirrors, I might as well fold my mirrors in to make my car as skinny as possible, thus minimizing the likelihood of someone clipping my mirror. Of course, all this makes one want to scream, and while I admit there have been occasions where this laxity has rubbed off on me, I need all the mirrors I can get when dealing with Hyderabad's road chaos.

With respect to helmets and two-wheelers, there have been some aborted attempts to legislate this and make the wearing of helmets compulsory. There may still even be some law on the books dealing with this at the national level, but here in Hyderabad it has not been enforced at all. Sometime last year there was a big push here to make helmets mandatory. A deadline was announced, articles appeared in the newspaper and, most significantly, roadside helmet vendors multiplied rather quickly. The issue was much-discussed, with people speculating whether or not the measure could be successfully implemented. Finally, about a week before the deadline, the government announced the rule was being cancelled, citing the need to better educate the public, make affordable helmets more widely available, etc. Basically, a combination of political pressure and the widespead belief that the law would be extremely difficult to enforce killed the notion. Some questioned whether the whole thing was just a way to boost helmet sales.

Now the new State goverment is giving the helmet law another shot. So starting next month, it will be mandatory for those driving two-wheelers to wear a helmet. It's entirely unclear, however, whether the new regulation will actually take effect this time, and if so, to what extent it will be enforced. Officials have already said that initially, helmetless drivers would only be issued a warning. And the law will apply only to the drivers for the first few months, leaving passengers (often women and young children) free to ride without helmets. Also in question is the extent to which the law will be enforced among Sikh riders. Ever try wearing a helmet when your hair is wrapped up in a large turban?

The importance of this is underscored by the sheer number of people who ride on two-wheelers here every day. Unlike in the U.S., where motorcycles and scooters are usually ridden by one or two persons, in Hyderabad this is considered to be family transportation. It is not at all uncommon to see families of three or four riding on a single motorbike or scooter. The usual configuration for this is husband up front driving, with an older child seated between him and the handlebars. In the rear, the mother sits side-saddle, holding a younger child or baby in her lap. On numerous occasions, I've seen five people crammed onto one vehicle, though I've not yet encountered six. Irrespective of the number of riders, it's typical that none of them will be wearing a helmet.

Despite the seemingly precarious nature of such travel, especially when coupled with post-monsoon potholes, the near-absence of pedestrian sidewalks and the make-your-own-rules nature of driving here, I've observed surprisingly few traffic accidents. And thankfully, the road and traffic conditions here generally prevent one from going any faster than about 40-45 mph in the city. Still, I look forward to the second coming of the helmet law, though the cynical side of me suspects something will come along to derail it once again, leaving Hyderabadis free to enjoy the wind in their hair.

Bring Your Own Scale

2004-09-25T03:15:00.000-07:00

Newspaper recycling where we are in Hyderabad is a pretty straightforward affair. You save your old papers and magazines, and then every month or so someone comes to the door to collect them. The nice thing about this is that this person actually pays you for the privilege of taking the papers away, after weighing them to determine their value. He takes them and sells them to someone else, after which they're presumably either turned into pulp or used for other purposes.

A few months back, the paper guy came to our door for the monthly collection. He pulled out his trusty weighing scale - this is an old-fashioned scale with metal trays on either side and a small rope in the center from which the trays are suspended. The items to be weighed are placed in one tray, and weights of varying measures go in the other until the two sides are equally balanced and the total weight added up. Kind of like if you were being weighed to determine your weight in gold, except the scale here is much less grand and the result, unfortunately, is not nearly as lucrative. Typically, we'll pocket anywhere from 50 to 150 rupees ($1-$3) per visit for this, depending on how many empty beer bottles we give him (these too he takes for recyling).

Anyway, just as our papers have been piled onto the scale and the paper guy announces the final reading, our neighbor from down the hall ambles over (the weighing happens in the corridor just outside our apt.), and says something to Usha to the effect of "You know he's cheating you, right? I don't know how exactly, but I guarantee he's cheating you." This neighbor of ours, always warm and friendly, also has an acute awareness for this sort of thing, so Usha asked what he meant. So he promptly took the scale from the paper guy, and within a minute discovered that his hunch was right. He found that the small rope from which the apparatus hung had a hidden metal bar inside of it, which the person doing the weighing could use to his advantage to alter the reading so that the papers appeared to weigh less than their actual weight. Half-outraged, but more amused, Usha went inside to retrieve our reliable bathroom scale, and piled the same papers onto it. Sure enough, the reading on the bathroom scale was a few kilos more than than on the paper guy's.

When confronted about this, the paper guy just sort of shrugged sheepishly. Now, realize that the difference we would have "earned" had we not been cheated by the trick scale could just about buy you a pack of gum here, so we were hardly concerned about the cash, if you could call it that. Of course, it was the principle of the thing! From then on, the paper guy understood that when he came to our door, it was strictly a bring-your-own scale affair (ours, that is). The last time he came and I snapped this picture of him, he was initially concerned that we might be planning to report him and his metal bar to the local police. Then, when I explained (via translator) that I just wanted a picture of him and his scale because we were amused by the whole thing, he quickly warmed up and insisted we give him a copy of the picture (which we did). He insisted that the shot be taken with him holding the "authentic" scale, not wishing to be seen plying his trade with our bathroom scale.

Sneeze Please: Firangs ko allergy kyon aata hain?

2004-09-10T01:55:00.000-07:00

Hey....I was in the newspaper the other day. Unfortunately, this was in no way due to my sweeping humanitarian efforts or any of my various achievements in the worlds of business, science or technology. Rather, by virtue merely of being a foreigner here in Hyderabad, I was photographed and briefly interviewed for an article regarding whether foreigners here suffer from allergies. I have an acquaintance who's a reporter at The Hindu, one of the more well-respected national newspapers here (I STILL haven't figured out the paper's name, given that it has no religious affiliation whatsoever), and he asked whether I could contribute to his story.

Anyway, the best part of all this was the "photo session", during which I was asked to fake various sneeezes, coughs and nose-blowings for the camera. And while the end result is clearly not the most attractive of photos, I do believe I come across reasonably well as a cold-and-allergy sufferer. Here's the link to the article in The Hindu.

Back to School

2004-09-06T00:42:00.000-07:00

Maya started her school term a few weeks back, and by now she's well into the swing of things. She was quite ready to get back into it, especially since she'd been off from it since mid-June. She has a new teacher, a few new classmates, and the school now has a new principal (German, but fresh off the boat from Cambodia where he was with another int'l school). Maya's in a class of seven kids now, from India, the U.S. the UK and Kenya/France.

The smoothness with which the school year reopened here stood in stark contrast to the horrific school siege in Russia, which was absolutely sickening to everyone. Well....actually not everyone, as the views of one Muslim cleric in the UK make scarily clear. Apparently, children are now "fair game" when it comes to furthering one's political or religious cause.

Anyhow, this tragedy got us to thinking about the security measures that are in place at Maya's school, and the need for these to be ratcheted up a notch or two. It's so sad that we need to think about such things, but this is the world we live in nowadays. And since just about 50% of the students in Maya's school are from either the UK or the US (i.e. the dominant occupying forces in Iraq), it would be incredibly short-sighted NOT to be thinking along these lines. Usha has brought up the issue with the school's new principal, who has been extremely receptive and promised to "do the needful", as the saying here goes.

Hyderabad’s Winter Wonderland

2004-08-28T10:02:00.000-07:00

I just accompanied Maya to a classmate’s birthday party being held at Snow World, Hyderabad’s newest theme park-style attraction. Before opening sometime last year, this distinction was held by Prasad’s, an entertainment complex consisting of an IMAX screen (billed as the largest 3D screen in the world, now showing Harry Potter 3 and Spider-Man 2), smaller theaters screening a mix of Hindi and English films, a food court, shopping mall, arcade, etc. More than any of this, though, the center features one of only a handful of escalators in the city. Clearly, some visitors are not accustomed to this mode of travel, and it’s not uncommon to observe a group of anxious would-be moviegoers hanging back at the bottom of the steps, nervously waiting for just the right moment to take the plunge while a crowd builds behind them. So commonplace is this phenomenon, that once while checking movie times online, I noticed this helpful hint on the complex’s FAQ page:

Q. How does one use an escalator?
A. One should first hold on to the moving railing of the escalator and then step on to the escalator step without hesitation like normal walking. There are yellow lines on the moving stairs. Never put your foot on the yellow line. Put your foot immediately after the yellow line. (If you are not very confident use the stairs or the lift and do not block the escalator for others).

Snow World, on the other hand, has no escalator and is essentially built around one very large, cold room into which visitors are admitted for timed, one-hour blocks to experience “the magic of snow.” Most people in Hyderabad have never seen snow, nor do I imagine they’ve ever been this cold before. If this is successful, I understand they are considering bringing the magic of slush, the magic of a bone-chilling wind biting into your face as you cross the street, and the magic of waiting for the car to warm up after spending 15 minutes scraping the snow and ice off the windshield while your fingers go numb. In any case, the Snow World attractions here include one decent-sized slope for sledding, ice bumper cars, an igloo, various snow and ice sculptures, etc. Midway through the one-hour session, a big snow blower does its best to simulate a real snowfall. Some of the kids just seemed content to run around throwing snow at each other.

Here in Hyderabad, the opportunities for wearing our colder weather gear are few and far between. Thus, Maya was able to inaugurate the pink-and-blue sweater that Grandma had knitted her for her birthday. On top of this (literally), the place distributes jackets, gloves (Maya brought her own) and rubber boots to help everyone brave the indoor, man-made elements. Much like borrowing bowling shoes at the lanes, these items are pretty well used throughout the day, and we made sure not to inquire about the establishment’s sanitizing practices. Maya had a terrific time running around in the cold with her pals, after which we all warmed up with a pizza, burger and ice cream (?) lunch. Sadly, Maya told me she does not clearly remember real snow and winter. I had to show her this picture taken some time ago in Prospect Park, and this one, to jog her memory. Despite this, her recollections still seemed fuzzy at best.

Barbie Rides the Rails!

2004-08-20T22:30:00.000-07:00

The dominant mode of transport in India is the train, especially for long trips, and this is what we tend to do as well unless we’re going somewhere for just a few days, in which case it makes more sense to fly. Still, the routing from where we live in Hyderabad to where Usha’s parents are in Kerala is indirect and awkward, requiring a change of planes and an inconvenient layover. So in this sense, too, the train is better.

However, the train ride from Kerala back to Hyderabad takes about 20 or so hours, depending on how on-time the train is. This is LONGER than it takes to fly from India to New York, the key differences being that on the train you stay in one time zone and you get to sleep (sort of). The train compartments have built-in sleeping berths arranged as bunk beds – stacked either two or three high depending on how much you’re willing to spend to have fewer co-passengers.

Maya was in the top bunk (which she quite likes), and in order to ensure that she doesn’t roll out in the middle of the night, we usually bring along her bed guard rail, which we rig up with duct tape or some cord. To be sure, this gets some curious looks from our fellow passengers, porters and others who stream through the compartment, most of whom have undoubtedly never seen such an apparatus (and certainly not on a train). Still, it helps us sleep better, so it’s fine with us. Maya invariably sleeps like a log on these journeys, while we usually wake up not quite as well-rested and with a stiff back (less so if we remember to pop a preemptive, night-before Advil or aspirin).

Anyhow, 20 hours on a train is a long time, even if 8 of them are spent sleeping (sort of). So we’re always well-stocked with food, books, magazines, and lots of activities for Maya. She’s generally pleased as punch to be on the train, hanging out on the top bunk – one of those rare blocks of time when both Mom AND Dad are her captive audience with (literally) nowhere to go. So, there were lots of books, story-telling, Uno® playing, drawing and, of course, Barbie dress-up.

Maya’s Barbie collection has grown to include Dorothy Wizard of Oz Barbie, Ariel the Mermaid Barbie and, of course, Indian Barbie. But since all the dolls essentially have the same bodies, and because her collection of clothes is by now quite extensive, it’s difficult to tell who’s who anymore because their outfits have all changed. At least this was the case until Pregnant Barbie came along. That’s right… “In-A-Family-Way Barbie”, complete with magnetic removable stomach and baby, is the latest addition to Maya’s collection! It turns out this doll is somewhat controversial, and in fact was pulled from the shelves of Wal-Mart sometime after it was introduced because it was deemed offensive to some by the store’s management (really!!). Anyway, Midge (as she’s known) stayed home during this trip (doctor advised to limit bumpy travel), and instead Maya brought along one of her younger (unmarried) friends instead.

It’s generally advised not to rely too much on food sold on the train, so we brought our own as usual. However, it’s great fun to see what they come through the train selling at all hours. Everything from coffee, tea and soft drinks, to samosas, chips, cookies, ice cream, biryani, vegetable cutlets, tomato soup, plus the usual South Indian standbys - idli, dosa, etc. Maya and I did buy and share a “bread omelette” for breakfast. This consisted of an omelette mixed in with pieces of sweet white bread, with a bit of spicy ketchup (?) thrown in for good measure. Not bad, actually.

Onam Flowers

2004-08-20T01:27:00.000-07:00

The day we were leaving Kerala happened to be the beginning of Onam, one of the state's most important (and fun) festivals. It marks the end of the monsoon season, and the beginning of harvest time. One of the Onam traditions is to arrange a colorful pattern of fresh flowers on the floor. Above, three generations of Manikats try it out. Below, the end result.

Hats For Everyone

2004-08-18T23:00:00.000-07:00

Hats were a non-negotiable requirement for all at Maya's birthday party, including for great-grandma, seen here. Maya did her best to get the family dog Sheela and recently-adopted cat, Diana, to wear one also, with limited success.

Crack That Coconut!

2004-08-18T20:20:00.001-07:00

We took a trip to the local temple where, among other things, Maya got a chance to smash open a coconut against a large stone, as part of an offering to the gods. She looks about ready to BOWL the coconut, and I must confess that even with some help from me we couldn't muster the violence necessary to crack the thing open completely. Usha's father, seasoned coconut-cracker that he is, stepped in to finish the job.

Down by the Pond

2004-08-18T20:20:00.000-07:00

This little pond lies right next to the local temple we were visiting. Maya and Animama (or, alternatively, Uncle Ani) took a closer look. She even convinced him to go wading into the water to collect a lily pad for her, then decided she no longer wanted it after he came back with it, coated in gunk up to his knees. Ani had arrived unannounced from Bangalore the previous morning, to surprise Maya for her birthday.

Vroooom.....Vroooom

2004-08-17T23:00:00.000-07:00

Despite our recent efforts to get her to ride her bicycle after removing the training wheels (i.e. - running behind her and shouting "keep pedalling!"), Maya was insistent that she wanted a scooter for her birthday. Here we took it up onto the farmhouse terrace, since it offers the flattest terrain on the property (and least muddy, given the recent rains - do they make All Terrain Scooters?).

Farm View - Palakkad, Kerala

2004-08-14T04:05:00.000-07:00

This is the stream that runs just outside my father-in-law's farm, which is located in the Palakkad district in India's very green state of Kerala. We found it particularly green and wet during this visit, as we were there during the tail-end of the monsoon season, by which time everything had been pretty thoroughly soaked.