From the Non-Ball-scratching Belt
Semi- Field notes from the Non-Ball-scratching Belt
October 9, 2006
Staying at this place called the Dairy Guest House – I think anyone who is vaguely VIP-ish gets to stay here. That could be a govt official, a local politician or a journalist – I qualify as none of those but whatever. The room, on first look, appeared very depressing. Two narrow beds with pink bed spreads, some awkward looking patchy brown sofas, pink walls with the paint peeling off and a huge bathroom where nothing works. But now that I have had a very sound sleep I can’t complain.
I decided my survival strategy is to not tip but to be extra pal-ly with everyone. There are several reasons for this decision. I never have change at the right time, nor do I know how to cleverly pass on a crisp 10-20-50 Rs note without making it look like I am doing something evil. The last few times I tried to tip at small cities I was snubbed pretty badly.
My favorite tip story is of Spiti – where Pranav and I had a “grand” meal at some so called Italian joint (where they served Pasta/boiled doughy noodles in maggi sauce), chatted with the owner-cum manager cum cook cum cleaner and while departing tried to leave a nice friendly tip. The man got heavily offended and returned our tip with a big NO THANKS. That day onwards, we got so scared that we would always ask the waiters “do you mind if we leave a tip”. Most waiters thought we were completely retarded!
The other time was when I had gone to Bombay and R asked me to give a healthy tip to his Man Friday – this sweet little Bong boy who had become my friend. The boy dropped me to the airport and I dutifully tried to pass on a 100 Rs note. He was so offended that I had tried to commodify our friendship that he nearly started crying. Bah I felt like a classist bitch. So there you go, a LOOOONG detour on the perils of tipping!
Yesterday evening was quite strange. Everything felt so new. This is definitely not the first time I’ve been in a new place alone – I arrived in Amherst all alone, knowing nothing about the ways of life in Amreeka. But somehow that was less strange. No, let me put it differently. The first few days in Amhrest alone were new, scary and lonely. Somehow here, in Anand, it was strangley more interesting and exciting.. I know that sounds bizarre. I mean, in Amherst I expected everything to be new and in anticipation I was scared, here I didn’t expect anything to be too new but it was and I was excited.
The town is a strange mix of modernity and filth. There are the usual small city open dustbins, pigs, cows, rotting food and stinking burst sewage pipes. But then, there are these high tech internet cafes offering net phone, STD ISD in every second shop, corner stores selling toilet paper and women wearing short tops and tight jeans whizzing by on their bikes. You can tell that America has had quite an impact in this town, when suddenly amidst the rubbish heaps springs a “dollar store” where funnily all the things are for Rs 99 (although a $ technically = Rs 45 at the most) and in a half finished looking resedetial area a “New York” Salon lies squashed between two garish looking yellow and pink houses.
The people speak differently, they all look a bit different – slightly emaciated, all men have moustaches, their body language is not like Delhi-wallas. And ofcourse, the men don’t whistle or make smoochy noises. Ahhh, what a pleasant surprise that was! The man at the ISD booth (that’s going to be my oft-visited joint for 92 reasons!) was a pleasant looking chap in his mid twenties, with, believe it or not, hair streaked blonde. He started giving me tips on where to get good gujju food and ended up offering his services as a driver and escort for my dinners. Unfortunately, this is India (even if the not the ball scratching belt) and I had to reluctantly refuse. After I left him disappointed, I was rethinking my decision and almost felt like saying “If you have a motor bike and not a car I ‘ll come” – Somehow I feel more in a control in an open vehicle.
Well, couldn’t find any gujju thali so ended up eating an Amul Shikhand for dinner – something I’ve been waiting to have for the past 10 years! It was crazy sweet but yummy.
Morning – I woke up at 5:30 – not surprising, as I had gone to bed at 8. Found a thhela waala making tea and sat down on his one rickety chair. The man was very enterprising – a master at perfect competition. He had three kinds of tea-serving uetnsils – the usual dhaba style thick glass, a couple of steel ones and for the “special” customer (I qualified as one) some cheesy looking tiny china cups. He charged accordingly as well, Rs 2 or 3 for the tea in a glass and Rs 5 for the special china!
My first day interviewing women went off more than well. But i wont gloat cos as soon as I do something goes terribly wrong. So we will be superstitious and pretend it didn't go that well! One of the surrogates loved me so much that decided to take me home for lunch. They have been given this pretty cool apatment by a couple from he US. TV, cable, AC - the works. The wall is filled with pics of their son, (God) Krishna and the firangi couple. It almost seemed like they worship the couple who hired them - both hub and wife talk of them almost reverentially. It's a really intesresting story why they decided to do what they are doing - very filmy-ishtyle indeed. But I might be breaking some ethical whatever so I won't post it here! Whoever is interested pls email me (wink wink I am such a stud !)
more later
need some more Gujju stuff in my tummy
October 9, 2006
Staying at this place called the Dairy Guest House – I think anyone who is vaguely VIP-ish gets to stay here. That could be a govt official, a local politician or a journalist – I qualify as none of those but whatever. The room, on first look, appeared very depressing. Two narrow beds with pink bed spreads, some awkward looking patchy brown sofas, pink walls with the paint peeling off and a huge bathroom where nothing works. But now that I have had a very sound sleep I can’t complain.
I decided my survival strategy is to not tip but to be extra pal-ly with everyone. There are several reasons for this decision. I never have change at the right time, nor do I know how to cleverly pass on a crisp 10-20-50 Rs note without making it look like I am doing something evil. The last few times I tried to tip at small cities I was snubbed pretty badly.
My favorite tip story is of Spiti – where Pranav and I had a “grand” meal at some so called Italian joint (where they served Pasta/boiled doughy noodles in maggi sauce), chatted with the owner-cum manager cum cook cum cleaner and while departing tried to leave a nice friendly tip. The man got heavily offended and returned our tip with a big NO THANKS. That day onwards, we got so scared that we would always ask the waiters “do you mind if we leave a tip”. Most waiters thought we were completely retarded!
The other time was when I had gone to Bombay and R asked me to give a healthy tip to his Man Friday – this sweet little Bong boy who had become my friend. The boy dropped me to the airport and I dutifully tried to pass on a 100 Rs note. He was so offended that I had tried to commodify our friendship that he nearly started crying. Bah I felt like a classist bitch. So there you go, a LOOOONG detour on the perils of tipping!
Yesterday evening was quite strange. Everything felt so new. This is definitely not the first time I’ve been in a new place alone – I arrived in Amherst all alone, knowing nothing about the ways of life in Amreeka. But somehow that was less strange. No, let me put it differently. The first few days in Amhrest alone were new, scary and lonely. Somehow here, in Anand, it was strangley more interesting and exciting.. I know that sounds bizarre. I mean, in Amherst I expected everything to be new and in anticipation I was scared, here I didn’t expect anything to be too new but it was and I was excited.
The town is a strange mix of modernity and filth. There are the usual small city open dustbins, pigs, cows, rotting food and stinking burst sewage pipes. But then, there are these high tech internet cafes offering net phone, STD ISD in every second shop, corner stores selling toilet paper and women wearing short tops and tight jeans whizzing by on their bikes. You can tell that America has had quite an impact in this town, when suddenly amidst the rubbish heaps springs a “dollar store” where funnily all the things are for Rs 99 (although a $ technically = Rs 45 at the most) and in a half finished looking resedetial area a “New York” Salon lies squashed between two garish looking yellow and pink houses.
The people speak differently, they all look a bit different – slightly emaciated, all men have moustaches, their body language is not like Delhi-wallas. And ofcourse, the men don’t whistle or make smoochy noises. Ahhh, what a pleasant surprise that was! The man at the ISD booth (that’s going to be my oft-visited joint for 92 reasons!) was a pleasant looking chap in his mid twenties, with, believe it or not, hair streaked blonde. He started giving me tips on where to get good gujju food and ended up offering his services as a driver and escort for my dinners. Unfortunately, this is India (even if the not the ball scratching belt) and I had to reluctantly refuse. After I left him disappointed, I was rethinking my decision and almost felt like saying “If you have a motor bike and not a car I ‘ll come” – Somehow I feel more in a control in an open vehicle.
Well, couldn’t find any gujju thali so ended up eating an Amul Shikhand for dinner – something I’ve been waiting to have for the past 10 years! It was crazy sweet but yummy.
Morning – I woke up at 5:30 – not surprising, as I had gone to bed at 8. Found a thhela waala making tea and sat down on his one rickety chair. The man was very enterprising – a master at perfect competition. He had three kinds of tea-serving uetnsils – the usual dhaba style thick glass, a couple of steel ones and for the “special” customer (I qualified as one) some cheesy looking tiny china cups. He charged accordingly as well, Rs 2 or 3 for the tea in a glass and Rs 5 for the special china!
My first day interviewing women went off more than well. But i wont gloat cos as soon as I do something goes terribly wrong. So we will be superstitious and pretend it didn't go that well! One of the surrogates loved me so much that decided to take me home for lunch. They have been given this pretty cool apatment by a couple from he US. TV, cable, AC - the works. The wall is filled with pics of their son, (God) Krishna and the firangi couple. It almost seemed like they worship the couple who hired them - both hub and wife talk of them almost reverentially. It's a really intesresting story why they decided to do what they are doing - very filmy-ishtyle indeed. But I might be breaking some ethical whatever so I won't post it here! Whoever is interested pls email me (wink wink I am such a stud !)
more later
need some more Gujju stuff in my tummy
posted by Amrita Pande at 5:20 AM
1 Comments:
i am so glad that you enjoying G land-- its an amazing place & you will see that if you lay your trust in people they will be amazingly proactive in helping you out. There is a lot to learn from their communtiy... They take a lot of pride in what they do, so tip only when in a fancy place--- ha ha-- its a blog-- GO GET EM GIRL
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