I realize it's been a little while since I last updated my blog, but I think it mostly has to do with the nature of my settling in here. Things that originally startled me on arriving are simply normal happenstances now, and thus I've struggled to come up with some new, and what I can still continue to say interesting, experiences to describe.
For example, the route I take everyday to and from work meanders around the outskirts of one particuallry noticeable slum area in Bandra. It's somewhat on the perimeter of Bandra itself, but one glance and it clearly goes without saying that this is a slum. I remember driving past the area in the first few weeks here and thinking "oh so this is what people mean by a slum"; naked to semi-naked kids are skipping around the street, the occasional goat tramples through a trash pile in search of a quick meal or lies casually in the shade of a tin roof, sharing the space with one of the hundreds of feril dogs. In the morning, and pretty much without fail, I'll take the turn that swings me up past the slum and will be greeted by several smiling children all squatting down to let go of their morning goods so to speak. I can't say I was ready for this when I moved here, but I certainly expected something along those lines. However, it doesn't even register on me anymore and just happens to be part of my daily routine or rather normal living circumstances here. Sure it's a bit "out of the ordinary" for us as foreigners, but if it doesn't bother the dirt poor little runts to drop their trousers in the middle of the street then I've learned quickly to not let it effect me.
It's instances such as these that might be deemed interesting and a separation from normal life in the developed world. It's just that you learn to adapt to the nomenclature of "normal life" in India, and as a result such things don't register as particularly fascinating anymore. Rather than gasping about how completely opposite the slum dwellers lives are, I now have a somewhat emotional detachment and glimpse at the sight as if nothing were more normal. It's as if I've swapped out my internal "Western" filter for a much more coarse and less penetrable Indian one. It's much tougher for sights of this nature or experiences that differ so greatly from back home to register as outlandish or even bother me.
After that long winded explanation, I do want to highlight the recent experience of my apartment building running out of water. What's that you say? No running water for almost a week? I must have kicked up a mess of complaints and possibly considered hiring a lawyer to file some wholly unnecessary law suit. Yes, the American dream of reaping monetary benefits from a situation that is mostly unavoidable and with my previous knowledge and understanding of the risks. But I digress.
I was pretty nonplussed the first day that I didn't have water coming back from work. Again, I knew such things happen here in India especially consider the majority of people struggle to obtain enough water to cook and drink everyday. My response, like any good foreigner, was to run down to the chemist (a.k.a. pharmacy) and buy several large bottles of water. Nothing better than attempting to shower by sprinkling lukewarm mineral water on my head, while less than half a mile away people have probably never even seen water contained in a plastic bottle. Honestly, it wasn't a big deal, and I'm sure I a lot less wasteful than a normal shower.
Yet, when I came back that night I still couldn't get anything running out of the faucet. At this point I was getting a bit peturbed, but really not enough to storm the apartment manager's office, which is just a crubmling stone annex attached to the side of the building. However, after the third day I employed my driver to help sleuth around and get to the bottom of this mess. Clifford (my driver) is not only extremely willing to help, but he also stands as my go between in translation messes such as these. On the morning of the fourth day, Clifford's answer to the reason for the whole issue was something I can only describe as an episode that might run on a day-time, barely profit turning, bored housewife watching Indian soap opera.
The nature of Clifford explaining this to me leaves a large window for interpretation due to my difficulty in understanding his accent and his gaps in vocabulary in the English language. So i'll try to explain as best as possible, and take liberties to improve the story.
Every building complex here has some semblance of a wall and gates that are supposedly protected by the security guards. I say supposition because most of the time I find my night time guard sleeping on the bench behind one of the walls, and the general lazy nature of Indians leads me to believe that when push comes to shove no guard will do anything to stop an intruder. My guards (I know it sounds very neo-colonial to assume I'm worthy of having my own guards) are all quite friendly, and I must admit they do make sure everything runs pretty smoothly. However, and from my understanding of Clifford's explanation, there is a little rift between the guards and my neighbor's male servant. This guy is a mousy little character that, in keeping with the description, scurries into the building, up the stairs, and quickly into the apartment next to mine. I've never seen him smile, wave, or really do anything than look sullen all day. Generally speaking I don't really ever see the guy or my neighbor who happens to be a bit of a strange character himself. I'm not trying to presume anything, but it is odd that he's a bit older with no family in the apartment, a seriously unbecoming goatee, and is doted on hand and foot by his servant.
Anyway, Clifford tells me that, one of the guards' cousin-brother (a uniquely Indian relationship which no one has been able to explain to me) fell for a pretty half-Indian half-Nepalese girl. The parents of the young man were outraged because of the fact that this girl was of a lower, servant caste than him as well as part Nepalese, and forbid the boy from seeing her. Think of Romeo and Juliet sprinkled with some masala to spice things up. Well it turns out that the young woman is actually the niece of our lovely servant man. He feels extremely offended about the prejudice against his ethnicity and social standing, and decides to take action against the guard that is somehow related to this whole mess. At this point I'm completely lost in the explanation and really have no idea which person Clifford is describing, so I can understand your potential confusion with my retelling.
In revenge the servant decides to run the water in the kitchen sink all day without any purpose. The idea is for the residents to blame security for not keeping the water supply steady, and thus lose their jobs. However, when the security guards come knocking on the doors to see if someone accidentaly left a tap running, they notice that it's a result of the sly little devil in the aparment next door to me. He's caught completely red-handed as they storm into the apartment and see water streaming out of his kitchen sink. Of course they address the owner when he comes home from work, and a shouting match occurs that I can hear from my apartment; the owner defending his servant and the security guards hopelessly explaining the situation. I was not privee to witnessing this next event, but Clifford said eventually the owner realized the servant's misdeed and whacked him with an open hand on the back of the head. This probably didn't stem the tide of anger the servant felt for the security, but it sure did seem to fix the water problem....for the time.
Of course, about a week later, the same problem came up again. So in between the two days I resorted back to bottle showers I managed to learn that the real issue was a lack of recognition by management to notify the residents that a new pipe was being fixed to improve the water supply. This meant that in the short term we lost water for several more days, as a small issue occured after initially putting in the pipe. How can management be so remiss in notifying the residents you say? Well, this is India; the land where people's apathy towards each other is at its highest. What about the servant vs. security feud, and the couple hopelessly in love? Honestly, I don't even know what to believe. I didn't get any further details, and will unfortunately not be submitting this to the soap channel to be the gossip story of spoiled housewives as they sip chai at a coffee shop chirping about the mindless activities of others.
My experiences are not generally so ridiculous and involved, but this was particularly humorous. The things I've learned from this are:
1)How to shower with a bottle of water very quickly
2)Don't rely on just one explanation from an Indian
3)Don't get involved with half-Indian half-Nepalese girls who's uncle is a shady character that lives a life of mystery serving some older gentleman, no matter how attractive she is
For example, the route I take everyday to and from work meanders around the outskirts of one particuallry noticeable slum area in Bandra. It's somewhat on the perimeter of Bandra itself, but one glance and it clearly goes without saying that this is a slum. I remember driving past the area in the first few weeks here and thinking "oh so this is what people mean by a slum"; naked to semi-naked kids are skipping around the street, the occasional goat tramples through a trash pile in search of a quick meal or lies casually in the shade of a tin roof, sharing the space with one of the hundreds of feril dogs. In the morning, and pretty much without fail, I'll take the turn that swings me up past the slum and will be greeted by several smiling children all squatting down to let go of their morning goods so to speak. I can't say I was ready for this when I moved here, but I certainly expected something along those lines. However, it doesn't even register on me anymore and just happens to be part of my daily routine or rather normal living circumstances here. Sure it's a bit "out of the ordinary" for us as foreigners, but if it doesn't bother the dirt poor little runts to drop their trousers in the middle of the street then I've learned quickly to not let it effect me.
It's instances such as these that might be deemed interesting and a separation from normal life in the developed world. It's just that you learn to adapt to the nomenclature of "normal life" in India, and as a result such things don't register as particularly fascinating anymore. Rather than gasping about how completely opposite the slum dwellers lives are, I now have a somewhat emotional detachment and glimpse at the sight as if nothing were more normal. It's as if I've swapped out my internal "Western" filter for a much more coarse and less penetrable Indian one. It's much tougher for sights of this nature or experiences that differ so greatly from back home to register as outlandish or even bother me.
After that long winded explanation, I do want to highlight the recent experience of my apartment building running out of water. What's that you say? No running water for almost a week? I must have kicked up a mess of complaints and possibly considered hiring a lawyer to file some wholly unnecessary law suit. Yes, the American dream of reaping monetary benefits from a situation that is mostly unavoidable and with my previous knowledge and understanding of the risks. But I digress.
I was pretty nonplussed the first day that I didn't have water coming back from work. Again, I knew such things happen here in India especially consider the majority of people struggle to obtain enough water to cook and drink everyday. My response, like any good foreigner, was to run down to the chemist (a.k.a. pharmacy) and buy several large bottles of water. Nothing better than attempting to shower by sprinkling lukewarm mineral water on my head, while less than half a mile away people have probably never even seen water contained in a plastic bottle. Honestly, it wasn't a big deal, and I'm sure I a lot less wasteful than a normal shower.
Yet, when I came back that night I still couldn't get anything running out of the faucet. At this point I was getting a bit peturbed, but really not enough to storm the apartment manager's office, which is just a crubmling stone annex attached to the side of the building. However, after the third day I employed my driver to help sleuth around and get to the bottom of this mess. Clifford (my driver) is not only extremely willing to help, but he also stands as my go between in translation messes such as these. On the morning of the fourth day, Clifford's answer to the reason for the whole issue was something I can only describe as an episode that might run on a day-time, barely profit turning, bored housewife watching Indian soap opera.
The nature of Clifford explaining this to me leaves a large window for interpretation due to my difficulty in understanding his accent and his gaps in vocabulary in the English language. So i'll try to explain as best as possible, and take liberties to improve the story.
Every building complex here has some semblance of a wall and gates that are supposedly protected by the security guards. I say supposition because most of the time I find my night time guard sleeping on the bench behind one of the walls, and the general lazy nature of Indians leads me to believe that when push comes to shove no guard will do anything to stop an intruder. My guards (I know it sounds very neo-colonial to assume I'm worthy of having my own guards) are all quite friendly, and I must admit they do make sure everything runs pretty smoothly. However, and from my understanding of Clifford's explanation, there is a little rift between the guards and my neighbor's male servant. This guy is a mousy little character that, in keeping with the description, scurries into the building, up the stairs, and quickly into the apartment next to mine. I've never seen him smile, wave, or really do anything than look sullen all day. Generally speaking I don't really ever see the guy or my neighbor who happens to be a bit of a strange character himself. I'm not trying to presume anything, but it is odd that he's a bit older with no family in the apartment, a seriously unbecoming goatee, and is doted on hand and foot by his servant.
Anyway, Clifford tells me that, one of the guards' cousin-brother (a uniquely Indian relationship which no one has been able to explain to me) fell for a pretty half-Indian half-Nepalese girl. The parents of the young man were outraged because of the fact that this girl was of a lower, servant caste than him as well as part Nepalese, and forbid the boy from seeing her. Think of Romeo and Juliet sprinkled with some masala to spice things up. Well it turns out that the young woman is actually the niece of our lovely servant man. He feels extremely offended about the prejudice against his ethnicity and social standing, and decides to take action against the guard that is somehow related to this whole mess. At this point I'm completely lost in the explanation and really have no idea which person Clifford is describing, so I can understand your potential confusion with my retelling.
In revenge the servant decides to run the water in the kitchen sink all day without any purpose. The idea is for the residents to blame security for not keeping the water supply steady, and thus lose their jobs. However, when the security guards come knocking on the doors to see if someone accidentaly left a tap running, they notice that it's a result of the sly little devil in the aparment next door to me. He's caught completely red-handed as they storm into the apartment and see water streaming out of his kitchen sink. Of course they address the owner when he comes home from work, and a shouting match occurs that I can hear from my apartment; the owner defending his servant and the security guards hopelessly explaining the situation. I was not privee to witnessing this next event, but Clifford said eventually the owner realized the servant's misdeed and whacked him with an open hand on the back of the head. This probably didn't stem the tide of anger the servant felt for the security, but it sure did seem to fix the water problem....for the time.
Of course, about a week later, the same problem came up again. So in between the two days I resorted back to bottle showers I managed to learn that the real issue was a lack of recognition by management to notify the residents that a new pipe was being fixed to improve the water supply. This meant that in the short term we lost water for several more days, as a small issue occured after initially putting in the pipe. How can management be so remiss in notifying the residents you say? Well, this is India; the land where people's apathy towards each other is at its highest. What about the servant vs. security feud, and the couple hopelessly in love? Honestly, I don't even know what to believe. I didn't get any further details, and will unfortunately not be submitting this to the soap channel to be the gossip story of spoiled housewives as they sip chai at a coffee shop chirping about the mindless activities of others.
My experiences are not generally so ridiculous and involved, but this was particularly humorous. The things I've learned from this are:
1)How to shower with a bottle of water very quickly
2)Don't rely on just one explanation from an Indian
3)Don't get involved with half-Indian half-Nepalese girls who's uncle is a shady character that lives a life of mystery serving some older gentleman, no matter how attractive she is
