Mar 2008

Sorry if the pages on my blog are a little, okay, very disorganized and higgledy-piggeldy (excuse spelling) but its a little tricky with limited internet connection, etc. If I had brought a laptop with me it may have been easier, but because of risks, baggage, …. And I’m limited to how many photos I can upload too.

Excuses out of the way, here’s my update:

I have Delhi Belly ! Must have been something I ate at the restaurant last night. Have felt slightly nauseous and have had runny poos (is that too much information ? ). My Aunt has diagnosed it as the first signs of food poisoning. Luckily, my Uncle is a doctor and my Aunt a nurse, so I’m in good hands ! However, if I die I want you to sue them for every penny they have (only joking) !!!

Spent the morning on the roof top garden / floor enjoying the warmth of sunshine and reading books. It’s the first spell of warmth we have had. It was like being on holiday. In the afternoon I went to see a distant relative with my Aunt by car. On the road beside us in the next lane, was a small car, like a Fiat Panda, that looked slightly misshapen. On closer inspection I suspect it has been rolled, but this doesn’t seemed to have stopped the driver from carrying on his business. I am constantly dumbfounded by what I see on the roads.

In the evening, my Aunt and Uncle, from the neighbouring town of Nawansher (I have 2 aunts who live here) invite me to their home. I speak to them in my broken Punjabi, about home and family. It’s a huge house, with about 14 big rooms, no pokey little bathrooms here, in the middle of home improvements. Sandeep’s bedroom is covered floor to ceiling (including the ceiling itself) in posters of Britanny Spears, other pop stars, American wrestlers, comic book – sporting heroes and celebrities alike from East and West. Later, they take me and their teenage sons, Sahil and Sandeep, out to a ‘fast food’ restaurant where I order a spicy veggie burger followed by traditional dishes to be eaten with roti (unleavened warm bread). Apparently, it’s a favourite place for teenagers. The food is nice enough. I spend the night in a spacious bedroom, a little cold at first, have a warm shower in the morning and breakfast and go back to Banga. Everyday, I learn a little bit more about what it is to be Indian. When life is hard, it can be really tough, no NHS or DSS to fall back on. They look to the West for aspirations, but just sometimes, lead a far more colourful existence than they realise.

Normally, 'time flies when you're having fun,' but there's so much that has happened already, a competent writer could write a book on it.

Something I didn't mention yesterday was an incident with a bull. While we were driving along, at a steady, breakneck speed of 60kmph, we could see a bull being unloaded from a truck, on a hill in the middle of the reservation between 4 lanes of traffic. The bull decides to kick out and start bucking and running into the traffic on our side. It misses our car door by inches. A hair-raising experience.

The following photo shows normal traffic manoevers:

You may observe on the left hand side we have a truck load of people being driven home, late afternoon, presumably after having worked in the fields. The motorcyclist (and his family) on the right, is about to overtake the truck and, we, in our small car, overtake the motorbike in the same manoever. Notice the width of the road and bear in mind traffic is going in both directions. I shut my eyes.

Visitors Today

This morning we have a surprise visit from my aunt from Nawanshahr who we went to visit the other day. She brings along my cousin Isha who is studying nursing. It wouldn't do to not come and visit - It's cultural. We sit, talk and have tea.

Museum visit

In the evening, I go with my cousins Gagan and Lallit to the Havelli (watering hole/ meeting place/ open air cafe from what I can make out). Through an archway, having paid an entrance fee, we make our way to a small museum showing how things were done years ago in punjab. A miniture village shows manikins next to old cloth making machines and others next to pottery makers and the like. In the middle of the courtyard a live play is going on.

There is a stage where a group of Bhangra dancers and a singer perform. They are very good.

Having walked 'round and seen everything, we visit the restaurant and have a meal there.

It seemed quite cold tonight and I hope the food was okay. We return back home by car. It was another long day.

In the state of Punjab, city of Amritar, set on a tiny island, in the middle of a huge pool and surrounded by a spectacular white fortress, The Golden Temple is a sight to behold. You cannot fail to be impressed by it. Indeed, photographs do not do it justice. You have to see it for yourself! Following the crowd, I walked around the pool, barefoot over marbled tiles, and looked at it from all sides in wonderment. You can even walk inside. And on different levels, you find holy men sitting in rooms, cross legged and singing prayers to the background of tabala music. For believers of the Sikh religion it’s like a pilgrimage for the non-believers it’s just amazing.

The Border Crossing at Wagah

At the border crossing between Pakistan and India in Wagah, near the town of Attari, this ceremony happends everyday at around 4:30pm. A bemusing spectacle of guards dressed in ceremonial uniform, either side of a gate, march quickly and to a halt with exaggerated high kicking steps. At one point it almost looks like a Mexican stand-off - who will blink first? Like peacocks trying to impress a mate both try and out-do each other. Who is the most impressive is a matter of opinion; perhaps it’s the Pakistani side. Thousands watch as both sides are cheered by an excited crowd led by a microphone wielding rabble rouser. Both sides lower their flags from a sort of no-mans land and carry them back neatly folded to their own side. Before you know it, the ceremony is over and a coach of passengers is allowed to pass through the gates. After the event, I'm not that much the wiser as to what has happened. Can you imagine a similar ceremony between the England /Scotland border.

The more observant will have noticed I've already talked about 'day 5.' Well, give yourself a medal.

What happened today ?

Today I had the opportunity to go to the bank. There seem to be banks popping up all over the place in Banga. In fact every morning I have a full view from the balcony of a new bank being built across the road. I get to speak to the branch manager in a mixture of Punjabi and English. It seems there's a lot of bureaucracy in banks too.

I also learn about queuing. Quite often queuing for stuff is not politely waiting your turn. You find people will try and just get ahead of you in a queue so you have to stand your ground. There's no argy-bargy but it can be a little tiresome. However, if you're a woman, sometimes you can just march to the front of the queue no questions asked. I don't know who makes up the rules, but this is clearly sexual discrimination. Men should have a support group or something to fight this injustice. Maybe I should send an email to the Prime minister ?

I'm driven to Lakhpur, the village where my Grandfather and Grandmother, on my father's side lived. When I last came to India I saw them here. Sadly, they have both passed away. The neighbours still remember me and my younger brothers and sister and laugh at the fact we didn't want to come out from behind mosquito nets because we were afraid of insects. The building is more or less derelict, but there are plans to rebuild it. I see new buildings being built in a more western style in the building. Perhaps for people coming back here to retire.

We drive along some narrow tracks and I'm told that this field belongs to so and so and this field belongs to someone else - it all looks the same to me. We stop near a water pump feeding the fields and in this secluded area I see the grave stones of my two grandparents next to each other where we stop and stay for a while.

Later on I get to visit my first ever cybercafe. This can be a frustrating experience - slow network and pc speeds, not fully functional keyboards or mice. So quit complaining about my updates.

It's still a little chilly and overcast in India, at least where I am anyway. I didn't expect it to be this mild. Good job I bought one jumper, woolly hat and gloves. I find my over relianace on central heating back home is going to be my downfall. My body is not good at keeping me warm and probably not that great at keeping me cool when necessary either.

Today I get to see how lawyers work in India. It seems that everyone needs a lawyer for one reason or another. Everthig you can think of, involving bureaucracy, they get involved in. It could be advice or help in litigation. I travel by car with my aunt to the law courts. She asks me why I'm wearing my seat belt ? I can't remember what I said, but fear does that to you.

Arriving at the courtyard of complex, there are a number of buildings including the courts, a police station and licensing / passport application office or such like. We walk towards a group of single-storey buildings in the middle. There are about four rows of twenty small offices. Each seems to belong to a lawyer, photocopying service or somekind of typing service. We walk into one of the offices and sit down waiting our turn. There's not much privacy as other people are also waiting in the very same room in order to speak to a lawyer. Eventually, there are four people from the office there. Firstly, its the typist/secretary; next, what appears to be a junior lawyer; then a lawyer and finally, the Senior lawyer. Firstly, you speak to a lawyer; next, the secretary types what he is told to type and keeps a diary; the junior lawyer and lawyer proof read what he has typed and, then the senior lawyer looks at the documentation that is to go in the file and is the front man if the case actually gets to the court. The file is then signed, stamped with something that looks like postage stamps and it all looks very official to the onlooker. I had a little glance at 'our file' (nothing too serious) but despite four people being invloved with this process it was littered with spelling mistakes and sentences that didn't quite make sense. This doesn't stop the lawyer collecting his money every visit. Nothing is done on computer and everything is tyed on old fashioned typewriters.

That was two hours of sitting around waiting, fifteen minutes with the lawyer and new appointment for the next time. Sorry I can't be there - not ! But I was glad to witness it.

On the way back home we stop to have the car looked at - it seems to be making noises. A group of eager young apprentices huddle round the engine and start jacking the car up, unscrewing bolts with spanners and shaking the engine. It must be a plate of somekind they suggest. We resolve to come back another day when the chief mechanic is there.