tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67207782816344027122024-03-08T09:39:38.061+05:30In search of the DogheadsRants from a different shore. The thoughts of an opinionated Welsh exile in Mumbai.
On 8th of October 2008, I fly out of Heathrow to take up a position with an ad agency in Mumbai, India.
I've never been to India before, so thought it might be interesting to chart my immersion into this new life.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-110987897720536522009-08-22T10:56:00.002+05:302009-08-22T11:51:24.553+05:30BollywoodWhy? How?<br /><br />Someone please explain to me what it is that makes an industry structured around the core tenets of poor acting and embarrassingly cheesy choreography so popular?<br /><br />No, in fact don’t bother, here comes my own Kangaroo court on the matter.<br /><br />You honour the case for the prosecution……<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Exhibit A:</span><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Funding.</span><br />Until quite recently, Indian banks were forbidden to lend money to finance movie productions. From a monetary viewpoint the industry is exceptionally lightly regulated and this has historically allowed for funding to be received from questionable sources. Even during this millenium the Central Bureau of Investigation, India's national police agency, seized all prints of the film Chori Chori Chupke Chupke after the movie was seen to be funded by members of the Mumbai underworld.<br /><br />Mumbai gangsters have produced films, patronized stars, and used muscle to get their way in cinematic deals. <br /><br />In January of 2000, Mumbai mafia hitmen shot at Rakesh Roshan, film director and father of top star Hrithik Roshan. Roshan Snr had stood up to underworld involvement in the distribution of his films and of course the “Goondas” and moneymen didn’t like that.<br /><br />To go clean you go abroad. Anil Ambani’s Reliance Big Entertainment recently announced a $825-million deal with Spielbergs LA-based production house “Dreamworks” to make six films a year for global audiences.<br /><br />I fancy the chances of them being almost watchable.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Exhibit B<br />Piracy</span><br />Bollywood has a huge piracy problem. Then again, this is a country where respect for another persons property is often revealed to be an alien concept.<br /><br />Even though a film seen may seen by over 500 million people, it could still quite easily return a loss. If everyone paid to see the film legally the industry would consistently make serious profits, but that’s not going to happen as any entrepreneurial pirate would quote simply slip a few rupees in the direction of the offended authority and a blind eye would inevitably be turned.<br /><br />Corruption is once again the cancer eating away at this society.<br /><br />There is little incentive to invest in better quality productions when your returns remain unprotected by a pathetically inept legal system.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Exhibit C<br />Masala</span><br /><br />Bollywood films are nearly all musicals. Few movies are made without at least one song-and-dance number and boy do Indian audiences expect full value for their money.<br /><br />Movies which follow this predictable formula are known as “masala movies”, after the spice mixture masala. <br /><br />If it doesn’t have an overly melodramatic love interest, a charicature of evil, slapstick comedy and OTT thrills all thrown in to a spicy mélange of song and dance routines, then it ain’t gonna cut the mustard with the locals in small town Andhra Pradesh.<br /><br />Like the Indian taste for masala, these movies have must everything heavily accentuated.<br /><br />They frequently employ formulaic ingredients such as star-crossed lovers, corrupt politicians, twins separated at birth, conniving villains, angry parents, courtesans with hearts of gold, dramatic reversals of fortune, and convenient coincidences.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Exhibit D <br />Talent</span><br /><br />In Bollywood, people often become superstars just by having a pretty face or a powerful lineage.<br /><br />Bollywood is home to a series of dynastic families who hold court with producers, funders and fans alike. The Bachchans, The Khans, the Dutts and the Kapoors may provide funders with a better chance of a positive return, but their prodigy usually offer no guarantee of a talent in the thespian or dance spheres.<br /><br />It is par for the course for movies to feature stars with so little rhythm that it makes pre-ecstacy honkies look like they had soul. Idolised lead actors who are often entering, if not already comfortably entrenched in middle age, gyrate and step to camp choreography whilst inevitably being styled like George Michael circa “faith”.<br /><br />Dance routines which try and add some "pop" influence to traditional styles usually result in the execution of "drunk uncle at wedding" moves except the leads are supported by a huge cast of hoe-down extras mimicking their every step.<br /><br />The change the light bulb, the cross-the-heart, the thriller zombie, the wiggly hands. These are all popular moves which I have tagged for my own reference. All equally naff in their own camp way, all equally common.<br /><br />What disturbs me is that the locals truly think this looks good.<br /><br /><br />And as for the acting? Just think “Summer Holiday” starring Cliff Richard with less double decker buses.<br /><br />Bad, bad, bad.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Summary for the prosecution:</span><br /><br />I feel no more evidence is required than a quick scan of the following 1* IMDB review for “Fight Club”: <br /><br />Not the much lauded US adaptation of the Chuck Palnuik novel, but the attempted Bollywood lift of that original idea.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">“My God such a film. Copy the title FIGHT CLUB and half the script and add Bollywood nonsense and a film is ready. The film starts off interestingly but then you are thrown into some good fight scenes in the fight club and then to romance, comedy, and music as the boredom sets in”</span><br /><br />Thankfully a younger generation of urban Indians, quite probably influenced by travel abroad, are waking up to the realisation that their film industry churns out utter crap. <br /><br />They are now searching for movies which reflect real life and don't involve dance troupes choreographed before a backdrop of a waterfall or a Swiss meadow.<br /><br />There is hope, oh yes, but just don’t expect change to happen too soon.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-85595024077191350882009-08-14T11:34:00.002+05:302009-08-14T11:41:35.094+05:30One flu over the Makta PotToday is Dahi Handi, the national day of celebration of Janmashtami, and birth of the much worshipped Lord Krishna.<br /><br />Take away the big 3 of Lord Brahma, Lord Vishnu, and Lord Shiva and Lord Krishna is right up there with the top boys of Hindu Gods. <br /><br />Along with Ganesh the multi-limbed Elephant headed idol of millions he is a popular, well supported God but without the might of the aforementioned triumvirate. In football parlance he’s kind of an Everton of the Hindu world, always in with a shout of the UEFA cup and often a good each-way long shot for an FA cup final.<br /><br />You see, Krishna was a bit of a problem child or so the story goes. He had a rather unusual love of butter and was constantly on the nick for his favourite dairy products. Dahi Handi is a reenactment of Krishna's much fabled efforts to steal butter from earthen pots. <br /><br />These earthenware pots, known as Makta , contain prizes in cash or kind and are suspended from a high point perhaps 10m high. Teams of local youths, form a distinctly unsafe human pyramid by standing one on top of each others shoulder until they are high enough to reach and break the pot. <br /><br />Of course, building a human pyramid would be to simple a task so onlookers throw water on the human pyramid to stop them breaking the pot. <br /><br />Breaking of the pot is followed by prize distribution. Devotees believe that the broken pieces of earthen pot will keep away mice and negative powers from their homes.<br /><br />What breaking the pot doesn’t claim to do is prevent the participants from contracting swine flu. <br /><br />Now, this I quite ironic given that Schools, Malls, Cinemas, Gymnasiums etc are all closed through a panic bordering upon hysteria yet everyone is happy to gather en masse, in close proximity, clambering over each other in order to break the pots.<br /><br />What I find particularly intriguing is the high incidence of dacoit impersonators who have appeared upon the streets since Wednesday. These individuals, and not only from the less educated classes I might add, walk about with their mouths covered by a loosely tied handkerchief, their fearful eyes twitching this way and that, alert to any signs of viral infection floating in the miasma.<br /><br />And what, pray tell, is this going to do to protect you? You are breathing in the same air only now from beneath your handkie. Does a disrupted airflow prevent contagion? Not to my knowledge.<br /><br />The TV News channels (and believe me, there are plenty enough of them) seem to have a singular aim to stir the hysteria with their over animated reporting, their lack of assessment of “facts” and opinion, and their willingness to allow the ill-informed public to present their thoughts to the wider world without any questioning of their beliefs.<br /><br />Even the Hindi radio channels interject their annoying 10-song playlist with “blah blah unintelligible blah, Swine Flu hai, blah blah blah”.<br /><br />People are cancelling plans for the forthcoming holiday weekend in fear of picking up the virus in the countryside. Why???<br /><br />My MBA educated underlings have both cancelled weekend travel plans, though one of them had little fear in shipping his parents off to London earlier this week for a holiday in the Swine Flu Capital of Europe where the rate of infection is something like 300x higher than in Mumbai.<br /><br />Captain, this is illogical.<br /><br />I mean what ever happened to intelligent enquiry and rational calculation of risk?<br /><br />Oh yes, I forgot, T.I.I. <br /><br />This Is IndiaStarjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-48006513918804710842009-07-14T13:26:00.003+05:302009-07-14T13:31:10.450+05:30Message of the day: Forward!Kept in the original formatting, only the names are changed to protect those involved......<br /><br />Sir,<br /> <br /> <br /> In refference to the earlier conversation with Mr x and Mr y,<br /> for going forward in that direction,please kindly guide me how should i go forward<br /> for the future association between the two firms on set of consent.Hope you got<br /> the forwarded information about us from Mr x<br /> <br /> <br />Warm Regards<br />zStarjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-10358090572670935872009-07-13T22:41:00.025+05:302009-07-13T23:17:21.235+05:30Thinking outside the BoxOK, creating and implementing a suggestion box to my mind requires several key components to make it work.<br /><br />Firstly, and most importantly, one needs a box.<br /><br />Now I'm not saying any old box, it needs to be a box of a reasonable dimension and scale that anyone who wishes to post a suggestion will be able to identify said box and post their comments within.<br /><br />Secondly, the box needs to be clearly marked "Suggestion Box" or with indications of a similar effect.<br /><br />Thirdly, it will need to be sited in an easily identified location, somewhere which encourages use, yet still offering an element of privacy to the potential suggestee.<br /><br />Finally, one must clearly communicate to ones Target Audience what the suggestion box represents, how it is is best utilised, and where of course it is to be found.<br /><br />Four simple rules, one effective suggestion box, right?<br /><br />Not in our company, oh no.<br /><br />It has taken one of my staff 6 weeks of discussion groups, ideation sessions, design consultancy, fabricator evaluation, communal group approval, review, further approval, sign-off, construction, product evaluation, further "future leaders of the organisation" meetings, and still we have no box.<br /><br />Not only that but when asked about the time he has been dedicating to this project eating into his core work hours, he looks at me as if I am some kind of idiot.<br /><br />"Can you not see the importance of this box, Sir? Is it not obvious to your western eyes how the minutae has to be perfected?"<br /><br />I have asked him numerous times to bring the project to a close, to resign responsibility and hand it to someone in our Creative Team (Christ, this is a full service advertising group which services major accounts such as Colgate, someone surely has more creative juice than my account exec??) <br /><br />Even when the discussions are predominantly in Hindi to disguise the topic from me, the handy fact that Hinglish borrows the word "Box" happens to be a bit of a giveaway. <br /><br />But does Boxcar Willy pick-up on this? No, of course not.<br /><br />He denies he has been speaking about it.<br /><br />His denial stretches as far as him fabricating a story about helping a friend with some logo design and printing of vinyls which uncannily happen to be of a similar colour scheme and dimension to the much fabled box. <br /><br />No. No. No. <br /><br />Do you take me for an idiot?<br /><br />So to cover for your box-making endeavour (which however misplaced your efforts may be, still has some legitimate work connotation), you will go to the extremes of creating a cover story which puts you even deeper in the shit?!?!<br /><br />Why?<br /><br />To make matters worse, after giving a hangover fuelled Ramseyesque bollocking, he decides to have another meeting only hours later, meaning he has to leave our office and travel the few kilometres to our parent agencies office in order to sort out something which obviously could not possibly be achieved over the phone.<br /><br />To be fair he did have the sense to suggest he would go during his lunch hour as to miss more work time directly after his bollocking would he had calculated be tantamount to signing his own death warrant,<br /><br />Surprisingly though, what he didn't think was unacceptable was that upon his return 1hr 45 mins later it would be OK to sit downstairs and take his lunch.<br /><br />When I asked him directly if he was "taking the piss" he appeared amazed at my audacity to disturb his dining.<br /><br />How? Why? What?<br /><br />Is this normal or am I just mad?<br /><br />Anyway, the old suggestion box should be delivered any week soon.<br /><br />It seems the idea of a rocket ship has been abandoned in favour of a plain blue cube. It does look the part from what I briefly saw, but lets wait to see whether all these meetings come up trumps withn points 2, 3 and 4.<br /><br />Somehow, I doubt it.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-51889451830272810762009-07-10T18:34:00.000+05:302009-07-10T18:35:58.281+05:30Sex and the City metro systemIt amazes me that not only small concerns, but large advertising corporations fail to do the basics such as answer their switchboard number, or even when it is answered have someone formally trained in the art of answering the phone with more than an abrupt “Hello?”.<br /><br />This afternoon I was trying to source information about restrictions upon alcohol “surrogate” advertising on the DMRC (Delhi Metro) and failed with my attempts to get a call answer by either Big Street, or TDI, two of the main media contractors on the network.<br /><br />At least my man at Times of India was available on his mobile, even if his take was the polar opposite form that provided to me earlier by a contact at Big Street.<br /><br />He was quite clear (in Indian terms) that the contacts were awarded on the basis that certain categories of lewd or unhealthy products would be banned.<br /><br />He believed alcohol and paan fell into this category, though thought condom brands might be OK, just so as long as they didn’t show the product or any images of people.<br /><br />God it’s a different world!<br /><br />I mean condom ads? Banned? <br /><br />FFS, this is the country that gave the world the Karma Sutra.<br /><br />Just look at the stats India..... you are breeding like freaking rabbits, yaah? <br /><br />Someone somewhere is having unprotected sex as we speak. Your AIDS rate is rising rapidly and there are already 2.5 million of your citizens infected, yet still you would rather pretend that shagging isn't going on.<br />Are you stupid?<br /><br />Actually, that was a rhetorical question.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-13380721995627618822009-05-28T21:48:00.002+05:302009-05-28T21:57:25.147+05:30I was interested to read an article in today’s Mumbai Mirror which served as a timely reminder as to how much of a pigs ear was made of the Wembley stadium construction, and how steps needed to be taken to ensure a repeat scenario did not occur with the construction of the Olympic Stadium.<br /><br />In one of the Mumbai suburbs a “skywalk” is being constructed to allow pedestrians safe and easy passage to their destinations without running the gauntlet of the choked streets below.<br /><br />Unfortunately the project hit a hitch when they discovered conduit pipes had been laid in the path of the foundations.<br /><br />Now, this may have proved a difficult hurdle to overcome in London or other Western cities, but the local Indian contractor swiftly overcame the problem by contracting out the work to a separate agency, instructing them to build over the pipes at will whilst recompensing for any damage or indeed insults to the gods through the sacrificial slaughter of a goat.<br /><br />Not only did they slaughter it, but they it there on the street. Very thoughtful indeed as probably quite a few people in the area would have been leaving home with the intention of buying mutton as a non-veg dinner treat fro the family.<br /><br />Now if I am not mistaken, Multiplex, the company responsible for the timely delivery of the Wembley project were fined a serious amount of £’s for it's late completion.<br /><br />Compare and contrast with the still unfinished Bandra-Worli Sea Link which though running over a year behind schedule will probably in the current market climate require no more compensation than a 3 goat, 8 chicken, and a partially atrophied water buffalo. <br /><br />Now I’m no construction engineer, but when it comes to fines for tardiness, then “that’s the way to do it” as Mr Punch is oft quoted as saying.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-64060387644221082232009-05-17T21:47:00.003+05:302009-05-17T22:25:32.442+05:30IPLLoving the IPL, loving it.<br /><br />There have been so many nail biting finishes over the past week or so it's unreal.<br /><br />My loyalties lie with the Chennai Super Kings.<br /><br />Any franchise with the audacity to name itself after a cheap British cigarette gets my vote.<br /><br />I was slight disappointed that the Mumbai were named "Indians" (like really? How did you come up with that one? A bit like playing the 'Milan Italians' or "Munich Germans" in the Champions League" huh?) so bland they don't deserve their fanbase.<br /><br />Surely a more imaginative would have been the Mumbai B&H Menthols.<br /><br />The Mohali based team have gone for the use of Roman numerals in their name "Punjab Kings XI". It seems to be doing alright but what a difference "Punjab King Edward XI" would have made, a classy cigar based alternative wlould have pulled in teh aspirational classes.<br /><br />The Rajasthan Royals? Uh hello, anyone home? <br /><br />You live in a freaking desert you muppets, it's screaming "Camel" at you.<br /><br />Calcutta, or Kolkata as they like to spell it now could have been the "Calcutta Capstan Non-Filters"<br /><br />The "Delhi Dunhills" is a no brainer.<br /><br />I wouldn't meddle with the Bangalore team as to be fair they are named after a cheap brand of whiskey, and the Deccan Chargers could simply tie up with Duracell for simplicity's sake.<br /><br />Outside of the grand show it has undoubtedly been, it is also somewhat annoying to have aTV commercial break every other ball or so it seems.<br /><br />There are so many sponsors involved. DLF sponsor the IPL itself, each team has a main sponsor and several secondary sponsors, some company or other bring you the Man of the match, and hell they even have companies sponsoring 4's, 6's, and wickets when they fall.<br /><br />It must be squeaky bum time in the marketing department when a ball is weakly skied towards the boundary.<br /><br />Will it carry all the way to be a Hyundai 6? <br />Will it fall short for an Airtel 4?<br />No wait, there's a man in the outfield and they are popping the champagne in the Havells box.<br /><br />Oooh, he's dropped it. <br /><br />This complete and uttter balls up was brought to you by Cardiff City FC, <span style="font-style:italic;">"Bigger than Barca"</span>Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-26041357933805826912009-05-14T16:15:00.000+05:302009-05-14T16:16:30.834+05:30Getting a straight answerSince moving to my new office in early April, my Mac hasn’t been connected to the printer.<br /><br />I was in the UK for a few weeks so suggested the IT boy fix it whilst I was absent.<br /><br />Naturally that didn’t happen.<br /><br />I pulled him up yesterday and this time demanded something was done about it as it was starting to impede me.<br /><br />“Have you fixed it?” I enquired<br /><br />Head – Wiggle.<br /><br />"Is the printer connection fixed? Can I print out? Does it work?"<br /><br />Wiggle.<br /><br />"Is that a yes or a no?"<br /><br />Wiggle.<br /><br />"Thats not clear. Answer my question and speak"<br /><br />Wiggle and smile.<br /><br />"Am I able to print from my Mac?"<br /><br />"Yes Sir"<br /><br />.....1 min later<br /><br />"You said the connection was working it isn't. Are you stupid?"<br /><br />Wiggle.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-91160722400627103482009-05-10T10:31:00.002+05:302009-05-10T10:34:47.291+05:30Fear not ye Malthusian prophets of doomIn the mid 1970’s India was plunged into a regressive period of centralised authoritarian rule and corrupt government when Indhira Ghandi, having been accused of electoral malpractice, imposed her continued rule on the nation.<br /><br />It is recalled as a dark time in the history of the nation, a time when questionable policies were forced through and opposition was quashed through brute force.<br /><br />By the mid 80’s this episode had apparently tailed to a settled conclusion, yet I have my doubts.<br /><br />If this repression had finished, how come in that case that 70’s influenced soft rock and 80’s pop music remain the sounds of choice in every “pub” in India?<br /><br />Surely it’s not coincidence that by the second summer of love the influx of western hits appears to dry up.<br />I challenge anyone to pick out a song post 1990. They just don’t exist.<br /><br />Its as if they have all the “Now that’s what I call music!” Allbums up to about Now! 12 and play them on loop.<br /><br />How else can the DJ’s justify the perennial popularity of Bryan Adams, Peter Cetera and Richard Marx?<br /><br />Granted I do get to hear Floyds “Wish you were here” which as drunken sing-alongs go presses all the right buttons, but this is in no way compensation for having to put my ears through the repeated torment of tracks such as “Tarzan Boy” or Rick Astley’s “Never gonna give you up”.<br /><br />In fact the Stock-Aitken-Waterman production axis has never been more popular than in current day India.<br />Mel & Kim, Dead or Alive, late-era Bananarama, and early work Big Fun. They all swing the dance floors of the coolest bars in India together with the stock tunes of Wham!, Spandau Ballet, The Cutting Crew, The Pet Shop Boys, Deacon Blue, and Jonny Hates Jazz.<br /><br />I believe there is something comfortingly in the simplicity of the music which appeals to the taste of the Indian male.<br />It is almost impossible for a homegrown Indian to be what we in the west would consider to be cool.<br /><br />They love camp movies, they hone their dance moves in line with the latest bollywood hit (over emphasised incredibly gay-looking and usually executed with a hint of chest hair showing beneath the jewellery), they hold hands with other men and would happily be seen grooving and singing along to the Communards “Small town boy”.<br /><br />Yep, this camp love of the high tempo electro-pop says only one thing to people outside of India.<br /><br />G.A.Y.<br /><br />1.2 Billion people and increasing? <br /><br />Don’t worry you Malthusian pessimists, I think I’ve discovered a natural solution to the population explosion, and they are dancing merrily to the hits of Erasure.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-25352460112422514492009-04-30T00:31:00.001+05:302009-04-30T00:33:43.270+05:30The art of the piggy-backI visited Calcutta for the first time a while ago, and apart from the fact it was as crowded and dirty as expected, it didn’t disappoint.<br /><br />The regional HQ of West Bengal and former capital of Empire was not quite up to Mumbai’s exacting standards of people per sq inch and failed to display the level of rubble I now associate with Maharashtra’s jewel. Furthermore it had a visible presence of (admittedly open air) male “toilets” which wouldn’t even begin to compete with Mumbai’s public conveniences the general style of which usually double as walls, bushes and rail tracks.<br /><br />Though in it’s favour it does have something Mumbai, Delhi and Bangalore all lack.<br />Hand drawn rickshaws. <br /><br />The city has several unique offerings as far as transport is concerned. It is the only metro to possess a tram network, it was the first place on the sub-continent to inaugurate a metro system and it’s roads and gullies are plied not by the battered old fiats or Tata’s found in most Indian cities, but by a classy retro looking fleet of ambassadors.<br /><br />But that’s neither here nor there. It’s the short distance human powered modes of cycle drawn and hand pulled rickshaw that I am interested in.<br /><br />Most of the wallahs working the trade seemed to have little business, indeed I only saw two in action during my stay and both of them were pulling their rickshaws at a speed approaching crawling pace.<br /><br />What lazier git would chose to make another human being pull more than their own body weight in order to earn just a few rupees when you could walk quicker?<br /><br />OK, maybe during the humid build up to the monsoon and the ensuing floods which hit this region every summer I could see its advantage, but on this day it was about 27 degrees and dry.<br /><br />And then I thought maybe these poor folk have come up with a pricing scheme to incentivise punters to travel. Maybe the reason they encourage these wiry little humanoids to run themselves into an early grave is simple.<br /><br />It offers VFM.<br /><br />4 rupees you reckon? Rude to say no really.<br /><br />What would you get for 5p in the UK? You wouldn’t even get the cab door opened for you let alone the engine started.<br /><br />Perhaps we should bring back the art of the piggy back? <br /><br />Well, cycle rickshaws are allowed in Central London, so how about a pub to pub piggy back service for the rather inebriated?<br /><br />Imagine the tips!<br /><br />I could think of worse jobs….Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-47626764404375283192009-04-27T21:32:00.002+05:302009-04-27T21:36:50.980+05:30My memories of homeSo we are back in India following a 16 day hiatus in the UK. There were many things I had looked forward to doing once home, some of which proved to be a let down.<br /><br />Take Real Ale for example.<br /><br />It was not the delicious nectar of the gods I had built it up to be in the pub-dry desert of my mind, but an often somewhat acrid tasting sluice laced with the essence of a carnivores proudmost fart. <br /><br />Even my beloved Deuchars IPA was no more than alright. I found that I had missed nicely priced wine much, much more.<br /><br />My memory of crisps was trodden to crumbs by the reality of their greased processed nature. The new range of Walkers “wacky” flavours was a real let down. There was some solace in Kettle Chips though the Thai curry flavour was an over spiced disappointment on a par with Ray Kennedy’s afflicted spell with the Swans back in the early 80’s<br /><br />Fish and Chips were not on my agenda, though a couple of Neath market rissoles provided a nice snack one teatime.<br /><br />Even chocolate was not that desirable (perhaps an early feast on Easter eggs sated my appetite?) and I was all but spent on the ham/pork front by the time we left.<br /><br />There were however a couple of pork based products that retained their standout appeal.<br /><br />Firstly, a couple of absolute quality Sausage and Mash dishes (Lincoln at Mrs Mash on Ganton St, and a curling turd-like Cumberland beauty at The Lavender in Clapham Junction) reminded me that when we in the UK put our efforts into it we truly have some great national dishes.<br /><br />As a dyed in the wool (not “died in the wool” like the Welsh farmer who had a heart attack on-the-job) boyo, I naturally had them with extra gravy (or jus as they pretentiously described it in Clapham).<br /><br />Frankly, and I mean this from the clogged left ventricle of my 30 something year old heart, let no fundamentalist Muslim nor Jew come between me and a good old bag of Pork Scratchings.<br /><br />The excessively salty hit and their heart attack in a bag texture is something that I will cherish until my next visit. <br /><br />When I walked out of that Balham corner shop clutching two tantalising bags of “the bad stuff”, I had the addicts sense that I was about to do something really, really wrong, but that the sorry fatty inside me was as helpless as a smack-head with a small baggy of brown. <br /><br />I knew the feeling. It was pointless fighting though. <br /><br />I was about to think “Sod it, sod the world, sod you all, sod Allah, sod Jahwah, sod vegetarians the world over, I want my fix and ain’t no man, no god, nor animal rights activist going to stop me”<br /><br />That rustle as the bag opens the softness of the underside, the jaw aching crunch of the outer skin, and then the melee of moistening pig fat and an oceans worth of salt sending the mouth into rapture is something that no other snack can match, ever.<br /><br />Britain, dead pig, and the greatness that is the humble Pork Scratching, I salute you.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-24234167985979935872009-02-17T21:43:00.002+05:302009-02-17T21:47:17.768+05:30An auspicious day for a NaziDriving through the streets of a European city with a big fat swastika painted on the bonnet of your motor is generally a bit of a no-no in most people’s books.<br /><br />If such an emblem was spotted, the driver would likely turn out to be a prominent member of the local national socialist movement whilst his fellow occupants could safely be assumed to be of the shaven headed, jack-booted, tattoo-on head type whom most sane people associate with right wing violence, flick-knives and third rate punk rock.<br /><br />But this isn’t Europe it is India and this is exactly the kind of situation where the weird and wonderful subcontinent never lets you down.<br /><br />Not only is sporting of swastikas approved as decoration inside homes, but it is actively encouraged to be formed as a centrepiece of display when one has taken possession of a new car.<br /><br />This isn’t twisted socialism in action. No, this is religion.<br /><br />Welcome to the world of Puja, the Hindu answer to the catholic Mass.<br /><br /><br />Now the Indians, being a superstitious bunch, will take the chance to bless anything they can at any possible opportunity and why not?<br /><br />After all, if God (well technically “Gods” and a good few thousand of them in various avatars and incarnations at that) is on your side, then how could you fail?<br /><br />So you need a bit of divine spindoctory to create a fated day for successful deal making? No problem.<br /><br />Just grab yourself a string of marigold petals, light some joss sticks and swing them around a bit in a figure of 8. Dedicate the entire shenanigans to to Lakshmi the Hindu Goddess of cold hard cash, and Bob’s yer uncle.<br /><br />The contract is virtually in the bag.<br /><br />Don’t get me wrong, Lakshmi needs to be kept sweet, but Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva are the boys who really pull the strings around here and if you are in the know you can just keep that triumvirate onside and you will be full to the brim of positive auspiciousness.<br /><br />Needless to say it was with great false enthusiasm and a sizeable dose of atheistic rooted scepticism that I agreed to partake in the Puja blessing of the new Honda Civic that sat was in the parking lot of our office block awaiting our gaze.<br /><br />Apart from the fact I found it difficult to justify finger painting the pristine bodywork of a factory fresh piece of sleek Japanese engineering, I couldn’t really fathom out how dangling some chillies from the number plate would give us an against-the-odds advantage of avoiding disaster on the horn crazed dodgem track of Mumbai’s roads.<br /><br />To be fair, the biscuit Sue had precariously balanced beneath the badge was poised in an act of almost miraculous wonder, whilst getting me to drive a couple of feet forward and then immediately reverse back to my starting position in order to ensure the good will of the Gods toward our automobile did seem to provide me with an aura of protected existence, but why the hell we had to crack a coconut with bare hands on a loose rubble and then pour the remaining milk over the bonnet was quite frankly beyond me.<br /><br />Alas, my scepticism was misplaced. <br /><br />We made the journey home in good time (just a tad on the wrong side of 1 hour 5 minutes) and didn’t even come so much as close to a collision wit another vehicle. <br /><br />Quite remarkable!<br /><br />I am planning a second Puja upon my return from Calcutta later this week. <br /> <br />This time I am going to call on all the gods in all their Avatar forms to put all their other worldly efforts into discouraging teams of beggars from scratching at the pristine paintwork.<br /><br />For months I was pretty tolerant to their actions as we buzzed around the city in a burgundy Tata Indica which was beginning to show signs of premature ageing.<br /><br />The shiny silver sheen of the Civic seems to act as a magnet to the 7pm shift at every junction we stop at, though the hawker with the slightly sinister cartoon animal masks seems less inclined to approach my window cock his head and then blow the party whistle with an uninvited shriek.<br /><br />I guess you can’t have your cake and eat it.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-4225291409421487132009-02-17T19:12:00.004+05:302009-02-17T21:51:43.042+05:30Addendum: The Mumbai MessiahAh well, just like the Christians, it looks like the Mumbaikers are going to have to wait.<br /><br />The deadline for the final bid round of Metro line 2 passed last week and the winner was.....(drum roll)<br /><br />Nobody!<br /><br />A flat zero applications. <br />Nada. <br />Nil-point. <br />L'oeuf. <br />eh-uh (as per family fortunes)<br /><br />What a freaking surprise.<br /><br />Seems like the credit crunch is even stretching to the backsheesh......Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-40547887100312258562009-01-21T22:36:00.002+05:302009-01-21T22:40:52.237+05:30The Health & Safety Executive bid processComposing my fog rant led me to thinking about Health & Safety within India, or moreover, the lack of it.<br /><br />India has an unusual parliamentary system in so far as a cabinet minster will openly pay for a prime Governmental portfolio.<br /><br />Elsewhere in the world this would rightly be seen as opening the door to corruption. After all, why pay for a position unless it offers good returns?<br /><br />This enigmatic process seems to be accepted as par for the course, thus leading to a systematic trickle down effect through the layers of Government and business via payment of bribes or wheel greasing “backsheesh” as it is known colloquially.<br /><br />The WIIFM factor (What’s in it for me?) is so ubiquitous you can almost hear it grinding the economic brakes as it paves a cowboy path to inefficiency.<br /><br />Illegally sited hoardings for local activists are found at every other road junction with the untrustworthy faces of moustached, jowly politicians staring outwards towards the teeming masses almost threatening them to vote their way.<br /><br />So, given this blatant corruption we are left with two feasible hypothesis(es) .....plural alert! plural alert!..... to explain the HSE situation:<br /><br />1. The minister in question has paid so much for his post any company or corporation can buy their way around the legal framework.<br /><br />2. The portfolio was so unattractive that no minister bid for it meaning there is no such thing as an Indian HSE <br /><br />Either way, it fails to make living in India an appealing option for the risk-averse.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-43258108611077627632009-01-20T09:36:00.000+05:302009-01-20T09:40:14.836+05:30FogWith India being a country of virtual continental expanse, it should come as no surprise to discover that the weather at one extremity can be entirely different from that in a distant location.<br /><br />In European terms, think journeying from Turkey to Finland and I guess you are somewhere in the ball park.<br /><br />January in Mumbai has seen temperatures hovering around a pleasant 32 degrees in the day with humidity quite acceptable. Perfect pool weather really.<br /><br />Winters in Delhi on the other hand can be chilled cold air sliding down from the Himalayas across the Gangetic plains.<br /><br />The inevitable result of this is fog. Thick fog.<br /><br />My flight to Delhi last week was delayed due to a heavy duvet of moisture which had settled over Northern India.<br />Wednesday, Thursday and Friday thankfully offered clearer skies and crisp, almost spring like weather.<br /><br />On the Saturday Sue and I ventured from Delhi to Agra, a 4.5 hour road journey through the poor backlands of Uttar Pradesh to the feted ex-capital of Shah Jahans Moghul Empire.<br /><br />Agra is was where Shah Jahan left his mark before shifting his capital to Delhi, but it retains more than it’s fair share of historical notage, nothing so more than being home to the Taj Mahal.<br /><br />The marble monument to love is a mausoleum dedicated to his favourite wife and is billed as the most beautiful structure ever created by man. Don’t get me wrong, the North Bank at Vetch Field came a close second, but at the end of the day it’s toilet facilities were a bit, well, pissy.<br /><br />Given the nature of the architectural behemoth and all the mythology of love surrounding it, we decided to push the boat out and stay at the Oberoi Hotel which at a mere 600M distance commanded spectacular views from its lofted position atop of a slight incline.<br /><br />The hotel is the nearest of the top end options to the Taj Mahal itself and being surrounded by beautiful gardens with all rooms offering a Taj Mahal view, it is able to charge a significant mark up of £350pn for a room.<br /><br />Now, this isn’t my usual price category and I would usually be searching for a figure with the “3” lopped off the front, but as I say, it did command unparalleled views of the Taj Mahal and it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to stay in a place offering such 5* splendour.<br /><br />Imagine the excited knot in my stomach then when on the Sunday morning I rose around dawn to a faintly familiar light. It was like the light of a snowy winters morning.<br /><br />I drew back the curtains and there it was…..<br /><br />Fog.<br /><br />Thick, smothering, all encapsulating fog.<br /><br />Views of the Taj Mahal? This not so fine morning my £350 didn’t even get me a view of the garden.<br /><br />The fog was so thick it was impossible to make out anything beyond the balcony. What a bummer.<br /><br />We decided to have breakfast in bed (not inclusive) and wait for the fog to lift.<br /><br />I checked every half hour and by 9.30 there it was, just about visible to the naked 20:20 eye.<br /><br />My £350 view in all it’s glory.<br /><br />Now this fog, thick though it may have been, wasn’t the thickest fog I had experienced during the week.<br /><br />No, the title of “Fog of the Week” went to an unexpected cloud which descended upon our offices on the Monday lunchtime.<br />Someone from the Mumbia Corporation had given licence to a likely ill-educated local to approach any buildings in the area without prior warning and spray toxic insecticide inside and out.<br /><br />Sat as I was on the mezzanine level I had to feel my way through the choking fumes, part blinded by the sting of the gas.<br />All but two of my work colleagues found it very funny. Nobody seemed to be considering the fact that this was likely causing damage to eyes, skin and respiratory system.<br /><br />As soon as they could tolerate the fumes they went back inside and continued their lunches.<br /><br />Sue, a wise young lady from our design team and myself decided to stay outside in the relatively fresh Mumbai air in order to give our bronchi and bronchioles at least a fighting chance.<br /><br />T.I.I. as the phrase goes.<br /><br />This is India.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-3054595584482919452009-01-08T21:43:00.001+05:302009-08-14T18:10:37.665+05:30Transcript from an Indian phone callThe following is a composite transcript of numerous calls I have received, the core content of which I am sure is familiar to any ex-pat in India.<br /><br />The phone rings and the ex-pat answers (my part is italicised for ease of explanation)<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />Hello. </span>(phone voice)<br /><br />Hello.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Hello!</span> (welcoming voice)<br /><br />Hello.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Hello?</span> (questioning voice)<br /><br />Hello.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Helloooo</span> (haunting voice)<br /><br />Hello.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Haylo!</span> (comedy high pitched voice)<br /><br />Hello.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Heeeelaaah.</span> (sinister voice)<br /><br />Hello<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Aaaargh! Look Dude, you called me. Agreed? <br /><br />Ergo, you must have an idea of who I am whereas I have absolutely no idea of who you are. <br /><br />So, are you going to tell me who is calling or are we going to continue this pointless conversation ad infinitum hmmm?</span><br /><br />Hello.<br /><br />Click, crash……… (Sound of disengaged blackberry being thrown across room in frustration)Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-34658088776649896382009-01-08T12:04:00.000+05:302009-01-08T12:07:47.372+05:30EfficiencyQ. How many Indians does it take to change a light bulb?<br />A. I don’t know.<br /><br />Though I am sure if one needed changing and I were to phone the office manager to report the situation, then she would pass my message to the relevant executive, who would then start the assessment process by ordering the handyman to inspect said inoperational bulb. <br /><br />Once the report had been filed, the second stage assessment would then hopefully result in a confirmation message to procurement to proceed with the purchase of a light bulb.<br /><br />Once the bulb had been purchased and the receipts thrice carbon copied, an instruction to install would be issued to the handyman, who would then likely arrive with his Junior and have the whole process overseen by a senior level company executive.<br /><br />It is highly likely that at this stage the present party would realise the purchased bulb does not match the socket fitting.<br /><br />The process would then be repeated.<br /><br />Please note, this systematic process applies equally to making a cup of tea, getting a glass of water, or even purchasing a cellphone.<br /><br />Indeed, it took 2x drivers, 1x CFO, 1x HR Executive, an Office Manager and myself to procure a Blackberry handset from the Vodafone shop.<br /><br />Efficiency is most certainly not in the Indian lexicon.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-3907628986718411542008-12-30T22:17:00.001+05:302009-01-08T12:09:14.386+05:30Normal service resumedI know, I know, it's been a while.<br /><br />I was planning to write a full report on the Mumbai attacks but hey, I ended up as an unpaid roving reporter for the South Wales Evening Post.<br /><br />Three issues including a front page feature. Fame in adversity.<br /><br />Anyway if you want to know, source the back issues or ask me for the link!<br /><br />Back to the here and now.<br /><br />It's Christmas time, mistltoe and wine, children singing Christian Rhyme.<br /><br />With logs on the fire and girts on the tree it's time to rejoice in the..... ah balls to that.<br /><br />I will rely on Kipling to tell it as it is. We fly to Goa on New Years day and my resolution is to maintain my initial efforts on this blog....<br /><br /><br /><br />Christmas in India<br />Rudyard Kipling<br /> <br />Dim dawn behind the tamarisks--the sky is saffron-yellow--<br />As the women in the village grind the corn,<br />And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow<br />That the Day, the staring Easter Day is born.<br /><br />Oh the white dust on the highway! Oh the stenches in the byway!<br />Oh the clammy fog that hovers o'er the earth;<br />And at Home they're making merry 'neath the white and scarlet berry--<br />What part have India's exiles in their mirth?<br /><br />Full day behind the tamarisks--the sky is blue and staring--<br />As the cattle crawl afield beneath the yoke,<br />And they bear One o'er the field-path, who is past all hope or caring,<br />To the ghat below the curling wreaths of smoke.<br /><br />Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye bear a brother lowly--<br />Call on Rama--he may hear, perhaps, your voice!<br />With our hymn-books and our psalters we appeal to other altars,<br />And today we bid "good Christian men rejoice!"<br /><br />High noon behind the tamarisks--the sun is hot above us--<br />As at Home the Christmas Day is breaking wan.<br />They will drink our healths at dinner--those who tell us how they love us,<br />And forget us till another year be gone!<br /><br />Oh the toil that knows no breaking! Oh the Heimweh, ceaseless, aching!<br />Oh the black dividing Sea and alien Plain!<br />Youth was cheap--wherefore we sold it.<br />Gold was good--we hoped to hold it,<br />And today we know the fulness of our gain.<br /><br />Grey dusk behind the tamarisks--the parrots fly together--<br />As the sun is sinking slowly over Home;<br />And his last ray seems to mock us shackled in a lifelong tether.<br />That drags us back howe'er so far we roam.<br /><br />Hard her service, poor her payment--she is ancient, tattered raiment--<br />India, she the grim Stepmother of our kind.<br />If a year of life be lent her, if her temple's shrine we enter,<br />The door is shut--we may not look behind.<br /><br />Black night behind the tamarisks--the owls begin their chorus--<br />As the conches from the temple scream and bray.<br />With the fruitless years behind us, and the hopeless years before us,<br />Let us honor, O my brother, Christmas Day!<br /><br />Call a truce, then, to our labors--let us feast with friends and<br />neighbors,<br />And be merry as the custom of our caste;<br />For if "faint and forced the laughter," and if sadness follow after,<br />We are richer by one mocking Christmas past.<br /><br /><br /><br />-THE END-<br />Rudyard Kipling's poem: Christmas in IndiaStarjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-30944572508133448062008-11-10T10:11:00.000+05:302008-11-10T10:17:17.393+05:30The coming of the Mumbai MessiahMumbai.<br /><br />An architectural vacuum of monotony which Indophiles and eternal optimists ambitiously hail as a World City. <br /><br />With a population double that of London what is to there be contested in such a claim?<br /><br />This is the engine room of sub-continental expansion.<br /><br />Is it not true that the hazy perma-pollution which hugs leechlike to a narrow strip of lowland between the Western Ghats and the vastness of the Arabian Sea has been both bellowed from the lungs of it’s industry and financed by this beating financial heart of Indian business?<br /><br />Indeed, upon first glance there is much to be said for this claim to a lofty perch in the worlds pecking order. <br /><br />This argument has great validity in so far as the sprawling coastal wedge of humanity (or inhumanity if you prefer) has comfortably the highest air traffic volume on the sub-continent, represents the greatest concentration of film industry output anywhere on the globe, boasts malls of haute fashion retail space together with the exclusive presence of a Rolls Royce dealership.<br /><br />Mumbai also acts as an increasingly powerful magnet to those rural disposed, sucked like so many iron filings towards the attractive core of the rapidly expanding megalopolis in the vain hope of sharing a part in this exclusive dream.<br /><br />But having said that, despite it’s obvious lure this city sure has its downsides.<br /><br />Outside of the CBD environs of Colaba, Mumbai’s pavement free streets are unparalleled in their filth. <br /><br />A demonstrable lack of civic pride whose importance escapes the local populace ensures a continued yet unfulfilled requirement of maintenance. Green areas are few and far between, play areas for children non-existent, with a basic awareness of community action being thus far missing from my observations..<br /><br />The city also has horrendous pockets of poverty and striking inefficiencies.<br /><br />Then to cap it all there is the traffic problem.<br /><br />Smoking, choking, crawling, stalling, horns beating, overheating, endless snakes of engined transportation defiling the dwellings of Mumbaikers from pre-sunrise to post-sunset.<br /><br />But wait you doomsayers, look there…... <br />What is that ribbon of concrete spreading southward from the headland of Bandra to its Southern counterpoint at Worli?<br /><br />See as it skips in wide steps across that infected, lifeless bay.<br /><br />True believers, gather round and listen. For this strange structure is the Worli-Bandra sea link. The John the Baptist of Maharashtran infrastructure, here to path the way for a yet greater shift in the city’s transport system.<br /><br />Somewhere in ancient Sanskrit writing it is rumoured that a chariot of iron shall ride through the clouds and dance between the great man made trees of the urban jungle.<br /><br />Yes my friends, prepare the arrival of the Messiah. The one who brings hope to the traveling masses and delivers them from misery of the daily commute.<br /><br />Prepare your salutations and ready yourselves with chargeable smart cards, for soon is the coming of the Mumbai Sky Train.<br />Yes, you heard it, the city authority are also building a Metro system.<br /><br />Balanced upon a belt of track several metres above the current commuter level, these initial three lines of transit offer hope to those who have faith.<br /><br />If only this city wasn’t so corrupt, it might even get finished. Or perhaps the reason that it will get finished is that this city is so corrupt?<br /><br />Confused by that contrary concept?<br /><br />Tune in soon to hear my tale of Bob the Builder and Jim’ll fix it.<br /><br />Maybe then it will all start to make sense.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-8270380507514778852008-11-05T09:41:00.000+05:302008-11-05T09:57:23.035+05:30Superman and MuslimsWhen I was a wee lad I had a bedroom decorated in superman themes.<br /><br />My walls were plastered in Superman paper, my duvet cover had the last son of Krypton emblazoned all across, hell, even my alarm clock involved Superman making a daily effort to wake me from my dreams.<br /><br />"Superman is here to say<br />It's time to wake up and start a new day<br />Waking up can be fun<br />When you wake up, my mission is done"<br /><br />Now, such a concept may be acceptable when at Primary School, but at the age of 36 I think I am done with the wacky morning alarms.<br /><br />If I had wanted a novelty yodeling wake up call I would have kept an issue of the Innovations Catalogue that came free each weekend with my parents copy of The Mail on Sunday.<br /><br />So on that note why must i be rudely awaken by the local Imam who finds it perfectly acceptable to shout praise to a non-existent deity through a loud hailer at 5.15 each morning?<br /><br />You can believe whatever wacky superstitious nonsense you want, but please, please don't inflict it upon me at the crack of dawn.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-77613278327599372312008-10-30T10:51:00.000+05:302008-11-05T10:06:36.791+05:30Nature v NurtureIt is said that in Mumbai there is no escaping the poverty that surrounds you. <br />I can now vouch for the authenticity of that statement.<br />Even the wealthy areas have all too obvious pockets of poverty like no other place I have visited. You might be waiting at a busy junction in Bandra, Queen of the Suburbs, when a tapping at the window will draw your attention to the inevitable alms seeker.<br /><br />There exists in Mumbai an inverse hierarchy of begging. The less able a person appears to have the wherewithal to support themselves, the more readily one should contribute to their welfare.<br />I have taken the lead from our drivers, who have a consistency in their approach to giving.<br /><br />The rules are pliable but appear thus:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">1. If the beggar in question is a healthy adult of working age, then give nothing.</span> <br /><br />In this city of gold everyone has the opportunity to work, no matter how demeaning their role nor how poorly paid their task might be. To see people both living amongst and sifting through garbage in order to eek out a living is both disturbing and humbling at the same time.<br /><br />These people however retain their humanity. They work, they eat, they survive.<br /><br />The local or “Desi” population feel it is poor form to resort to begging and it highlights an underlying laziness on the part of the poor wretch who resolves to such action. <br /><br />It may sound callous that someone earning a western wage should not give freely, but if one were to donate upon ever request, the inconvenience would be more in terms of time and sourcing of change than that of purely gifting money.<br /><br />I think the only way forward is to find a local charity of choice, one that I believe is making a difference, one I can donate to in bulk.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">2. A woman holding a young child is not necessarily the mother. Give with discretion.</span><br /><br />I understand, though have no basis for my belief beyond that which I have been told by our driver, that it is commonplace that women borrow the children (at a rate of 50 rupees/day) from the natural mother in order to turn a profit at busy road junctions.<br /><br />I can accept that this occurs though expect it’s frequency is somewhat overstated.<br /><br />It is sad to witness a young child in arms mimicking the mothers hand to mouth gestures with no understanding of what they are doing or why they are doing it.<br /><br />What chance in life if this is their trade before they are even able to speak?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">3. Older people are deserving. Donate freely.<br /></span><br />If a person has survived what has likely been a tough life and has managed to bag a life innings of 1st world proportions, then that has to be respected.<br /><br />Their seniority itself dictates that they are no longer productive and therefore relatively incapable of supporting themselves. <br /><br />Donate small denominations but with frequency.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">4. Lepers should not repulse you, donate freely.</span><br /><br />Being some of the most unfortunate members of society, this should go without saying, though being a typical “Britisher” my instinctive response to my first encounter with a leper was one of shock and fear.<br /><br />I guess this is only natural as seeing as leprosy was eradicated in the UK waaaay before my time, and the sight of a bandaged stump or a hand with an obvious absence of finger joints does shock the fight or flight instincts into overdrive.<br /><br />Fortunately, the usual status quo of having a car window between oneself and the “under handed” local sorts offers an element of security and safety, though I keep telling myself it is only ignorance that generates fear and I consider myself rather educated on such conditions.<br /><br />Christ, you could spend months, nay, years, working with lepers an still come out of it with all major extremities intact. <br /><br />After all, Ernesto “Che” Guevara did well enough to fight and fire in a revolution following his time spent with lepers. It was the Bolivians that got him in the end.<br /><br />However, regardless of the early work of communist icons, there still existed that niggling doubt in the back of my mind which turned to outright fear and repulsion when whilst sitting in an auto wearing only shorts, shirt and sandals, a toothless and handless old man motioned towards himself as a sign to donate. <br /><br />It was then whilst I was frozen with an immediate and temporary paralysis coupled with a twinned reaction of verbal incoherence (most likely emanating from the fear that had enveloped me due to his immediate proximity or perhaps more specifically the lack of a protective paneling between myself, and what now appeared a far too contagious disease) that he decided to reach out with his relatively good hand and touch my bare foot.<br /><br />Jump??? <br /><br />I almost shat my pants.<br /><br />Sod Donating. Sweet Jesus, charity was the last thing on my mind right then.<br /><br />I just wanted the auto driver to do his best Lewis Hamilton impersonation and race out of his P4 grid position before we had even received the green for go.<br /><br />It was only upon later reflection I realised that instinct is a powerful thing and in the nature/nurture debate, I am backing old mother N every time.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-20302765414334178482008-10-29T17:09:00.000+05:302008-11-05T10:05:45.883+05:30Flight Lt Colin Blythe and his unflinching standard of forgeryRight, I'm getting to grips with this place. Time for my lucid rants to begin.....<br /><br />I had been forewarned about the unique concept that is Indian bureaucracy, but to experience it first hand certainly teaches tolerance and directs one toward the goal of suppressing any urge to yell.<br /><br />As seems par for the bureaucratic Indian process, nothing can be simple.<br /><br />Any foreign national planning to spend more than 6 months in the country must register their intent with the authorities. This is of course is despite the fact that you have already been granted a Visa to stay for such a duration when you made our initial application.<br /><br />In fact, given that said application was made online, almost all the required information for this second stage registration was already held by the Indian authorities.<br /><br />Nonetheless, it took two visits to the office in South Mumbai before I successfully acquired my documentation. The first visit (which involved a two way car journey totaling nearly two football matches worth of road time) was fruitless because, well, because they said so. <br /><br />This is after all bureaucracy central and there is no point in arguing.<br /><br />The second visit (better traffic conditions, there in 70 minutes, back in 50) proved successful yet still involved a 3 ½ hour wait at the offices during which time I had to enter the already once submitted personal info on their computer system, as well as writing out the same within my newly provided identity card which I had finally acquired following a pointless queueing process and a small bribe to the surly admin exec.<br /><br />I once read about the strong correlation between corruption and poverty within a given regime.<br /><br />This I assume was the theory in action.<br /><br />Given the undue bureaucracy and the attention to detail, one might think the final supplied documentation would be somewhat more sophisticated than the identity cards produced by Donald Pleasance in "The Great Escape", but no, even a progressively blind WWII PoW would consider these ID cards as somewhat retro. <br /><br />I swear a junior school art class could be more creative.<br /><br />Luckily for me, it was not me, but her indoors who registered our shipped belongings. This meant that I would avoid the frustratingly tedious 6 hours she spent in a non air-conned building somewhere out back of the airport where our boxes would be opened and sorted through with a fine tooth comb. <br /><br />Fortunately the customs officials had little idea of the value of our belongings which they had decide to tax in their entirety. In fact she undervalued our two bottles of champagne at a paultry 5 squid each. Tidy.<br /><br />How embarrassing would it be for a single young man with some "adult art" titles within the shipments? Please estimate value of dog eared Western pornographic literature sir...... Uh, thats not mine!<br /><br />There's a lot to be said for marriage you know.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-4321880383938063982008-10-24T11:56:00.002+05:302008-10-30T10:46:51.241+05:30Continental driftSo I’ve been here almost two weeks, I think the world is due is a brief sample of my musings.<br /><br /><br />Day1<br /><br />Arrive in Mumbai to a sultry 32 degree welcome. It is the Dassera Holiday today so the place isn’t as hectic as one might imagine and fortunately the smell isn’t anywhere near what I had been led to believe it would be. I thank the cooling breeze blowing in off the Arabian Sea and jump into our car which has successfully honked its way across a line of traffic . The journey is both noisy and eventful with a relentless cacophony of car, bike and autorickshaw horns accompanied by unusual visual stimulation such as urbanite bovine and fowl, an orange haired guru-like mystic and the strange and slightly disturbing sight of two young boys appearing from an open manhole.<br /><br />Spend the afternoon exploring Juhu where we stop for a beach front Coke which sets us back about 25p inclusive of straw.<br /><br />Times of India:<br /><br />“Cops barged into a Juhu pub on Sunday night and picked up 240 youngsters on suspicion of “doing drugs”. Policemen had earlier visited the pub on Thursday but failed to arrest any of the alleged peddlars.” <br /><br />“100’s gathered at a roadside Cross of Jesus Christ in Chakale Road on Thursday evening when water was seen seeping from its toes. Several devotees filled water bottles…. The statue is centuries old but has been recently renovated and is made of fibreglass”<br /><br /><br /><br />Day 2<br /><br />2 Cows, 0 chickens, numerous stray dogs, 1 x goat, 1 x naked guru, 3x hawkers selling giant balloons.<br /><br />Visited the historic centre of South Mumbai, swiftly left the Gateway of India as it was under renovation and largely wrapped so you couldn’t see it. The sun was baking as it reflected off the light coloured floor surface so we dashed off to a local Parsi Café where I sampled my first mango lassi.<br /><br />My intro to Indian cricket as the 1st test vs Australia begins with the Ausies amassing a decent 400 odd total.<br /><br />Slowly, the language of incessant use of car horns is beginning to reveal itself….<br /><br /><br /><br />Day 3<br /><br />6x cows, so many stray dogs they don’t bear mentioning, 1x pot belied guru, 1 hawker selling maps, street kids begging and tapping at our car window.<br /><br />Those car horns are nothing but background noise now. Even the art of crossing the road seems simpler than at first glance. I think you basically step out into oncoming traffic and force them to stop. Extending your nearside hand towards their bonnets whilst nonchalantly looking away seems to be the technique of choice.<br /><br />We are already gearing up for the next holiday in a few weeks time.<br /><br />Diwali is a big one. The Indian Christmas I have geared it described as.<br /><br />Well, in so far as it is the “festival of lights” it does kind of match Sandfields, Port Talbot for a brazen display of seasonal illumination except the lights are rather more tasteful and the displays lack the ubiquitous Santa/Rudolph combination so beloved of those council house rooftops. I can but hope it remains so.<br /><br />Day 4<br /><br />0x cows, 4x goats, 1x donkey<br /><br />Not just the sound of vehicles, but the sight also has become the norm. Most vehicles in this city are for hire and are consequently coloured a two-tone black and yellow to help distinguish them from all those other two tone black and yellow vehicles that swarm like so many wasps around the arterial roads and gullies of the city.<br /><br />We visit South Mumbai again and watch some spontaneous cricket matches played upon Oval Maiden. The backdrop is of a gothic picture postcard Victoriana and simply screams ‘Empire”. I notice the streets are much quieter and free of autorickshaws. Our driver explains they are banned from entering this far into the heart of the historic city centre and that they are limited to a point on one of the entrance causeways. Mumbai was once a series of Islands and much of the modern day city centre and adjacent areas have been reclaimed from the sea. The city is now scarred with creeks that act as nothing less than open sewers. These effluent highways snake their way across the urban landscape caring not whether an area is rich or poor, though it is often found that the poorest of society will be “housed” along their banks, vulnerable to both seasonal flooding and malarial risk.<br /><br />Day 5<br /><br />The first day of work.<br /><br />Our office is located somewhere amidst a labyrinth of gullies, somewhere behind the Grand Hyatt hotel, hidden upon a sprawling hinterland of a business park. When I say business park, I don’t refer to the manicured lawns and columned entrances of such parks in the western world, no, this is more like the small unkempt industrial estates one might find in working class towns where pavements are optional, fly tipping is to be expected and deeply rutted roads are standard.<br /><br />Upon entry to our workplace it reveals itself as a bit of a throw back to the 70’s, which though it was expected, it still comes as a great relief to hear we are moving into new premises over the next few weeks.<br /><br />Hallelujah! There is aircon.<br /><br />The CEO draws us a map of Mumbai, and against all my understood conventions, North and South, East and West are flipped to a mirror image of what we in the West would call the norm.<br /><br />I guess it is all a matter of perception and there are no wrongs and rights, but hell, it would be a damned sight easier for me if everyone stuck to the rules.<br /><br />But that I guess is the essence of India in so far as I have thus far understood. Rules are there merely as guidelines, not necessarily as objects of control to always be obeyed.<br /><br />If you happen to be driving on the “wrong” side of the road, it is only ones perception of what is wrong that makes it so.<br /><br />Perhaps it is our rigid Western way of thinking that needs to be examined? Already I am aware of so many dichotomies in this country, though I am sure I have only just scratched the surface.<br /><br />The city is constantly busy, 24/7, yet nobody is in a rush. There is an inordinate volume of vehicles on the road, each following their own rules and with no apparent system of priority, yet the traffic somehow keeps flowing.<br /><br />There is great poverty and great wealth in close proximity yet still I am oblivious to any latent animosity between societies haves and have nots.<br /><br />India is going to take a lot of understanding, and I am excited about what experiences lie in wait.Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-4093497638653379142008-09-25T21:49:00.000+05:302008-09-30T22:32:00.939+05:30The cross-pollination of Leigh de Vulght<span style="font-family:arial;">Well, the clock is ticking and I am officially a man of leisure until mid-October.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Amongst the poignant packing away of ones life memories inside overpriced cardboard boxes, the uncertain contemplation of that which lies in wait and the anxiety of attempting to finalise plans for the big push, there remains the extremely important task of deciding which Mumbai football team to swear allegance to.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">It seems only right that on arrival, my flag is already pinned to the mast. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">It would certainly be comforting to be lost without friends in an unfamiliar landscape, yet to have a retort to that overplayed amd seemingly rhetorical chant of "Who are we?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">To be frank, for a urban throng comprised of over 19 million people, there isn't a hell of a lot of choice out there for football fans.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I could perhaps go for Mahindra United? </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Mahindra are the leading Mumbai based outfit and won the national league as recently as 2006. They are the only team in the Maharashtra state to win the FA Cup equivalent more than once, triumphing in '98, '02, and again this year.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">This team looks a sure fire route for a newcomer to Indian football to hitchhike upon established success, but the again, as a Swansea City fan used to years of underachievement, this doesn't quite feel right.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So we come to the alternative</span><span style="font-family:arial;">. Mumbai FC.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Their home ground is in Kandivali, and holds about 12,000.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Formed</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> as recently as 2007 </span><span style="font-family:arial;">they have been making "big name" signings, such as manager Henry Menezes and Indian </span><span style="font-family:arial;">international striker Abhishek Yadav. They won promotion from Div2 last season, so 2008/09 will be their first effort </span><span style="font-family:arial;">in the I-League. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Mumbai FC was launched with the community based aim of encouraging all Mumbaikars with a god given talent (not sure which God does the footbball talent bit, but I reckon Shiva sounds a good bet for my midweek coupon) for footie to participate in the development of the sport and its resultant cultural growth in the city.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Mumbai FC also have an English head coach in David Booth, formerly of Grimsby and Darlo. This sounds more like my cup of chai, but on the downside, they do </span><span style="font-family:arial;">play in yellow. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Now this last factor may not bother most fans, but for me it counts as a serious negative against them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I have only ever owned one shirt of this colour, and it attracted <strong><em>lots</em></strong> of flies.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Granted, when I effortlessly plucked said shirt from the outstretched arms of other Jacks down at Southend FC, it was indeed rather sweaty. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I did wash it, several times, but when I proudly wore my undersized yet authentic "Leigh de Vulght" football league shirt around the sites of Australia, the insects absoulutley loved it. It was as if a giant sunflower had appeared in the bush and cross-pollination was this seasons vogue.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">That was a harsh lesson I learnt and it has stayed with me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Under no circumstances can I encourage Malaria carrying Mozzies to come suckle on my juicy Welsh flesh.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">So what will I do?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Take the easy option, or go with my instinct?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">I think I need to investigate away kits......</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span>Starjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6720778281634402712.post-88425808003265027552008-09-12T15:19:00.000+05:302008-09-27T15:38:26.714+05:30What a Wankhede!Cricket, bloody cricket.<br /><br />Just when you think the 5-day format of the game beloved of gentlemen and empire has been exorcised from the psyche of your average British male, out of nowhere you are given the opportunity to move to Mumbai.<br /><br />My relationship with the sport has been a long and increasingly tenuous one.<br /><br />As a child I was weaned on stories of legend. It was upon my local county ground that the soon to be "Sir" Garfield Sobers clattered six consecutive deliveries beyond the St Helens boundary rope.<br /><br />My father claims to have been there on that historic day, as does every man over the age of 50 born within a 10 mile radius of that wicket.<br /><br />Last month saw the 4oth anniversary of this cricketing milestone and in the interim years I must have met at least a dozen people who have claimed ownership of "that ball", otherwise known as the final delivery of a Malcom Nash over which was to be sent heavenwards over the wall and into Gorse Lane, or perhaps even the distant side street that was to be forever preserved in monochrome as a result of Sobers' remarkable achievement.<br /><br />My own cricketing memories are somewhat less well catalogued than the BBC coverage from that day.<br /><br />As a child I played both at school and with friends in local parks. My right hand bowl, left hand bat a continual object for discussion and derision. Amongst the highlight I remember hitting my first century in the loosely demarcated grounds of Victoria Park.<br /><br />The ground was a local classic. A pot-holed dirt track marking the boundary at one end of the wicket, perfectly achievable with a straight drive, a confident batsman could make quick, easy runs.<br /><br />Extras were seldom awarded, and the consensus of what constituted a wide was generally governed by how old the bowler was and whether the batsman could still have struck the delivery if his arms were 15 feet long.<br /><br />Batting at "the railway end", a left handed hook over a low metal fence and into the tarmac covered playgorund would earn me six runs with the probability of a young mum throwing the ball back to speed up the delivery process. A well executed cut to square leg might see me scoring four runs if the tennis ball crawled beyond the t-shirts that doubled for that boundary.<br /><br />A high scoring innings was usually dependent upon how recently the Council Parks department had cut the grass, and how few fielders were available.<br /><br />As the years went by my left-handed square cuts continued to serve me well, though like a less dashing, darker-haired David Gower, I too was prone to a loose shot cheaply giving away my wicket.<br /><br />As my teenage years passed, the opportunity for play receded. It was far easier to organise an impromptu game of tennis with one, or at a stretch, three other players than to organise a bunch of young males to dedicate their spare hours to standing in a field watching lifelessly for long periods of time.<br /><br />The urge to play cricket slowly recinded, but the trademark LH bat had left its mark on the Tennis Circuit of South Wales where my double handed backhand was a much feared weapon which even helped me to the final of the county U-16's tournament where I was soundly beaten due to a combination of big match nerves, tennis elbow, and the fact that my opponent was considerably better than me.<br /><br />Eventually even the tennis seemed to take too long to complete, though admittedly this coincided with the fact I was now old enough to be legally served with alcohol, and yep, there were ladies in those there bars.<br /><br />Perhaps I am a sullen reflection of the way we as a nation have changed? Maybe it is this inability to stay still and reflect without recourse to external stimulation which has triggered the rise of our instant gratification society. If so, surely this is mirrored in the declining popularity of cricket in the UK both as a spectator sport and in terms of those who actually take the field of play.<br /><br />Todays soundbite generation are in no way inclined to spend more than fractional hours in any given pursuit, let alone spend the best part of five days watching a sporting soap opera unfold in front of them.<br /><br />With a generation of British youngsters having been raised on a diet of multimedia options, and the lines between real worlds and virtual worlds becoming ever more blurred, is it no wonder that the historically conservative governers at the MCC have been forced to back track and accept that 20/20 cricket is the only way to generate interest amongst this difficult to please audience?<br /><br />This led me to an intriguing thought.<br /><br />With India becoming ever more wealthier, and an emerging middle class being offered a plethora of other ways to spend their time and money, is it inevitable that cricket in the sub-continent will follow?<br /><br />Not necessarily in terms of the loss of love for the sport as seen in England (and Wales)s green and pleasant land, but in terms of a shift away from the connoisseurs choice of the longer format towards a shortened version of the game.<br /><br />Then I thought, hang on, this has got further to run.<br /><br />Whats more, I am sure there is a huge market out there waiting for me to exploit it!<br /><br />Could I yet be the Kerry Packer of my generation?<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><em><strong>"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present you........<br /><br /><br />The 2014 Nip & Run World Cup Final, live from the Wankhede Stadium, Mumbai...."<br /></strong></em></span><br /><br /><br /><br />KStarjackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11491832374048784050noreply@blogger.com0