North Indian Escape

And so I shall return on Wednesday with stories of my delightful escape to the Taj Mahal and my chaotic adventures through Delhi to show my nationalistic pride on Tuesday at the Republic Day Parade at the India Gate. You'll be glad to know I have seats less than 100m away from the Prime Minister. Perfect opportunity for me to tell him all about my plans to become Indian.

Happy to be spending the 26th of January celebrating all that is fabulous about India. Won't miss Australia Day for a second. Too much goodness, generosity and energy to be had here in my new home.

Viva India.

Hinduism: a love affair

At the start of this Indian adventure I was fascinated with Hinduism. I got overly excited by the kitsch flourescent orange Ganesh statues that lined the trashy tourist stalls along the Causeway. I have been embarrasingly fixated on the flashing fairy lights and diamontes that adorn the shrines in people's homes in slum communities. I have travelled 3.5 hours on a train to go visit the holy Godavari river on the off-chance that it really is holy and I would be healed from my mozzie bite epidemic. (I will never know if the Godavari would have healed me as I decided that a few mozzie bites were better than catching something far more toxic in the rubbish and waste filled river.)

I feel I have also been bribed into loving Hinduism as every time I visit a temple I am given sweets. Yes. They bless, then share with me delicious sugar filled delights. Wandering along the street stalls in Nasik I went into a frenzy over the bright coloured beads, bracelets and other holy trinkets that are supposed to bring the Hindu Gods closer to you. Then there is just the sheer quantity of the Gods. Who could not be impressed by a religion with over 6000 Gods?!! (Hmm so it's more like 300 but that didn't sound quite as earth shattering.) Hinduism is so foreign and abstract to me. And I admit it, I have been a little bit in love with Hinduism.

Love affair is over. I am now angry with Hinduism.

A morning at Elephanta Caves was all it took for the entire love affair to crash and burn. I have reboarded my feminist bandwagon and have been enraged at the submission of women. Women, who already find themselves confined in Indian society, are reminded in the carvings at Elephanta Island that they must play the understudy to the males in society. Hindu stories of their Gods lay the foundations for women to play a submissive role to women. Take one such carving of Shiva and his wife Parvati. Shiva and Parvati were spending a chilled evening at home, relaxing with a glass of red and playing an enjoyable game of dice. Shiva won the game – but only by cheating. Parvati got on her moral high-horse and didn't want to play with him anymore as she felt his cheating ripped the fun out of the game. All mighty Shiva responded by demanding that she continue playing and told her that in life you lose lots of battles and that you should just get used to it and continue fighting. Good advice. However the authorised Government guide who took us for a tour told us that this is an important carving as it reminded women of their place in society and that they must follow their husband's direction even if he is cheating. In other words, do what your told even if it's crap. Shiva, I thought you were cool.

Look, maybe I just have an issue with the carvings at Elephanta because one depicted Shiva fighting off the demon 'ego'. Yes. Elephanta purports to tell us all that having an ego is a bad thing. Well Elephanta obviously doesn't know how amazing I am.

So Hinduism. I issue you with a challenge. I dare you to make me fall back in love with you. Get out the sweets, the kitsch figurines and the peace and love. Win me back.

Weekend Escape to Pune

Saw Indian history first hand.

Love the 6th century AD and what it did for Indian palaces.

Obsessively.

Saw Indian rural farming life first hand.

Love sugarcane and primitive tools.

Endlessly.


See some weekend escape snaps here.

Bollywood Wedding Dream Over

Should have paid more attention to Bend It Like Beckham. No Indian man will ever marry me. My Indian Bollywood life plans are over before they began.

Why? Because I can't roll a round chapati.

Spent the afternoon at a women's group in a rehabilitated slum. This amazing group has started up a lunchtime business that prepares meals for the rickshaw drivers who park across the road. Using their existing amazing cooking skills (and I can vouch for this as someone who is still stuffed at 10pm from eating an endless stream of amazing Maharastran delicacies from them!) they have been able to bring additional income into their families. This extra money has enabled some families to put their children into school, to renovate their flats to have bathrooms/showers and to have savings in the bank as a safety net incase they need money.

But in addition to being impressed by their business success, I am thoroughly disheartened as I discovered I am unable to roll a chapati and make it perfectly round.

Thus, I will fail any future mother-in-law's test (YOU HAVE TO ACTUALLY IMPRESS THEM WITH YOUR CHAPATI SKILLS!) and will not get to marry the Bollywood man of my dreams.

Bombay Tiffin-walas

Brett Louise is ready to kill anyone who obeys Indian Standard Time. Unfortunately that may necessitate me killing 90% of the Indian population out of sheer frustration. As someone who runs habitually twenty minutes late I thought I was going to lovingly embrace the Indian Standard Time mentality. But no. Indian Standard Time means that no meeting times are honoured. No taxi will pick you up on time. And no art gallery opens when it says it opens. Unpredictable chaos. Waiting three hours for a meeting to start doesn't fit in with my usual fashionably late attitude.

So imagine my surprise when I found out about the mysterious Bombay Tiffin-wala Brigade. Something in India actually runs on time. Precisely on time.Tiffins are metallic containers that stack up and lock in together. Something like a primitive thermos. But more exciting as you have layers of delicious delicacies to discover inside. It's essentially the Indian lunchbox. At work everyday, the staff open up their tiffins and eat up the yummy curries, dahl, rice and breads inside. But how do they get to work - on time and still hot? The answer to this questions revealed to me the secrets of the Bombay tiffin-walas.

Every morning mothers, wives and domestic helpers cook elaborate lunches for their husbands, children and bosses. These are packed away lovingly into the tiffins. (It's probably important to note here that each tiffin looks exactly the same - all stainless steel.) At around 9:30am in the morning the tiffins are collected from homes all around Mumbai by tiffin-walas. These men don't have cars or trucks. They have primitive wheelbarrows and carts to carry them. The tiffins are all brought to local stations where they are sorted and sent off speedily with other men to other parts of the city. By lunchtime, the tiffins have arrived (still hot!!) ready to be enjoyed by their owners. After lunch a tiffinwala collects the tiffin takes it away where it is put together with all the other tiffins from Bombay where it is washed. After being washed another tiffin-wala returns the tiffin home to be used again the next day.

Over 4000 tiffin-walas take over the city as they deliver over 175,000 tiffins every day.

No, the tiffins are not just rotated to anyone. Your specific tiffin with your specific meal is picked up, delivered, washed and returned to you.

No, they are never misplaced.

No, they are never late.

How? I have no freaking idea.

If only everyone could adopt this predictable attitude I wouldn't have to go on a murderous rampage.

Check Up?

After three weeks in Mumbai's smog, my eyes have literally fallen out of my face. Cartoon-style, swollen, bursting eyes hanging from their sockets. I'm wearing my glasses constantly. Not that I really need to see as I can't read any of the Hindi signs anyway. But my point is that it is no surprise to find out that millions of the people in Mumbai suffer from eye problems. In addition to ongoing irritation and infections, many of the slum community members suffer from advanced catarachs that affect their vision. If untreated, catarachs degenerate vision until sight is completely lost in one or both eyes.

In Australia, we have free access to eye check ups - even if some of us ignore the incessant reminders from OPSM to return for a check up. (Whatever OPSM. I am very busy and important. But after Mumbai deterioriation I will be back to see you soon.) In India, there is no free eye care. In slum communities I have visited they cannot afford to get their eyes checked. And let's be honest, their list of priorities has more immediate demands than an eye check right? It is particularly hard to spend money on regular eye checks when you don't appreciate the dangers of catarachs going untreated.

Good news. These slum communities are receiving the eye care they need. Without the cost. A group of committed optometrists is donating their time to visit slum communities and rehabilitated communities and give them free eye check ups. The eye clinic I visited was a primitive centre with a mirror balanced on a pile of plastic chairs so that they could ask community members to look in the mirror and read the eye chart. The optometrist then used a standard torch to look into the patients' eyes. Such primitive techniques but so encouraging to see such a cheap, portable and efficient way to get basic eye care to communities. In a two hour session we saw over 70 patients at the clinic. Out of the 70 patients, only 4 had healthy eyes. The other 64 required glasses or had cataracts.

Surgery is required to fix the advanced cataracts that plagued the majority of people we saw. Excited by the altruistic spirit of the day, I asked one of the nurses whether they get the surgery for free. She giggled to me (then explained as I obviously didn't understand), 'Haha nobody can get eye surgery for free.' Well. Great. 'Dear Sir. You have cataracts. You won't be able to see in about 18 months. Unfortunately you have to pay 18,000 rupees for surgery. Do you happen to have 18,000 lying around?'

So not quite the free solution I had hoped for. However, in addition to the free basic care given by optometrists, they also offer a substantial discount on the surgery for needy patients. They offer the cataract surgery at a discounted rate of 3000 rupees. (This is about 75AUD.) Not a small amount of money – but far more attainable than the 18,000 rupees normally charged. This means families can save up and get the surgery they desperately need.

Just another example of generous Indians donating their skills and time to help their own people. Two things I've learnt from this. It doesn't cost much to secure the vision of a person in a slum community. And I need to look after my eyes. OPSM are on top of the list to call when I get home.

All is well.