Sacred Cows

Return to INDIA!

~By Anu Anand Hall

Finally! Finally! After four postponed departure dates, we've arrived back in Delhi!!

First Impressions 

So... how has India changed?? Well, the capital has a brand new international airport. And while the carpet is particularly nauseating... (ugly doesn't do it justice, and yet, the design was apparently well thought out!) ... the terminal itself is refreshingly large, bright and modern.

And at first glance, the city too has been transformed for the better. There are no longer medieval road works and half-finished metro stations to negotiate when driving around. Traffic flows better. There are road signs everywhere to point you in the right direction. The re-vamped Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium, where the Commonwealth Games opening and closing ceremonies were held, is an impressive landmark. And the Metro, which has opened dozens of new stations in all new directions, is quite simply, world-class (elevators to streets and platforms, electronic ticketing, air-conditioned trains with mobile phone signals, well-enforced 'Women Only' carriages! Better than the London Underground or NYC Subway any day!)

There are other changes: foreigners everywhere you look. Every neighborhood, block and building seems to have at least one European, Malaysian, Filipino, American, British, Canadian, Chinese, Korean or African expatriate on a stint working in India. And they're all forming Yahoo! Groups, exchanging information, banding together on new businesses and projects... Hooray! I'm all for the world coming to India! Or as one fellow expat put it so well:  "...nice to live in a very tiny cobweb in a nation of one billion."

And of course, India's capitalist culture is booming: new stores, malls, products and services from organic foods, toys, designer clothes, furniture, design, animation, medical tourism, leisure, new restaurants, cafes, bars, music... you name it, it's here somewhere!

The Commonwealth Games

Two opinion pieces to share with you. This one by Amelia Gentleman, who says athletes should come to Delhi at least to honour the sacrifice made by those thousands of poor slum-dwellers brutally evicted to make way for the Athlete's Village.

She's a fantastic journalist whose stories from India have always been exquisitely reported and told. But I couldn't disagree with her more on this issue.

Rather, I have to agree a million times over with Dileep Premachandran, who, writing this piece in the Sports pages, argues that only a spectacular international failure stands any chance of rescuing Indian sport from the venal clutches of the country's shamelessly inept, cruel politicians.

I don't wish to see India shamed... but hopefully, he's right. 

On a personal note: Tarquin, Maurya and I are headed back to Delhi in a few weeks- hooray!!! We deliberately skipped the Games on the advice of almost everyone... Sadly, it was clear months ago that they would prove an embarassing fiasco.

Still, we're mightily excited!! First on my agenda is a visit to the Lotus Temple... a meal at Colonel Kebabz... and a round of drinks with all our long, lost Dilli friends!!!

Bust up in the rasoi (kitchen)

~By Anu. Meet Half-Crack's crack team of kitchen renovators! The poor buggers have been at it for days, chiselling and pounding away at the primitive brick, concrete and iron bar monstrosity that is the kitchen counter. They've stripped it back to its foundations so that they can extend it and lay on a new sink and shiny, green marble counter-top. Now I understand why last year, when the building next door to ours was being knocked down... there was so much infernal pounding.

    Instead of using hammer drills, or wrecking machines... Indians still employ an army of poor wretched men who are expected to demolish a building, brick by brick, in their bare hands and feet, using sledge hammers and chisels... with not so much as a hard-hat or safety goggle in sight...! Nothing much has changed, then, since the days of the Taj Mahal. Talk about a labour of love!

    This morning, I arrived to find Half-Crack on his haunches, using a massive electric drill that he'd hot-wired into the socket. I couldn't tell if he was sleepy or drunk, because he kept putting the drill bit in the wrong place and then his younger employees would yell and tell him to move it up, or down, right or left. They all had a good giggle whenever he missed his mark....