i remember my landlord used to eat  the same kind of sabji, (vegetables) every day of the week. his only means of transport was “chetak” and he never bothered the tatters that exposed his bear back. actually, i used to sympathise with him so much i made it a point to pay my rent one day before the deadline just in case he is unable to meet his expenses.

however, to my embarassment, he offered to take me out to a very expensive restaurant to celebrate my birthday. that alone was enough to tell me how well oiled was his pocket. to use the words of a friend, i can only say that indians “save for a rainy day”.

apart from the fact that they are not spendthrifts and are good at saving, they also have a heart of small child. so pure and clean at their thoughts its so difficult to start an arguement with them. they believe in living in the present. After all, we only got about 100 years to live.

i admire most their tolerant attitude. despite so much arguements and heated exchanges you might see in india, its difficult to witness a real fight, something so commom in my side of the planet. well call it chicken-ness but if Bush was an indian and America was India, we could have avoided Iraq, Afghanistan and other such like massacres. Parhaps the tolerant attitude is mostly reflected on the roads. Take me for my word when i tell you that there isn’t a place in the whole world, save for china, that has such busy and crowded roads than india. but dispite this traffic nightmare, im sure, and we can bet on this, there are more cases of road accidents elsewhere in the world-e.g America than in india. although the noise of each car blowing horns indiscriminately would deafen even the deafest ears, you are sure not to hear a screeching break and see blood with someones brains 5yards from his body. in other words, you may not witness an accident scene your whole life in india. this is for the reason that indians have just better sense to know that slowly slowly wins the race and rash driving cannot guarantee reaching your destination in record time. instead, it only buys you a shortcut ticket to hell.

It is only in the land of Gandhiji that you will see demonstators walking on foot holding placards and singing vedic chats to drive their message accros. im yet to hear of a reported case of looting and violence that is a neccessary ingredient to most demonstrations i know of.

If the Mahatma was alive today, im sure he would win the Nobel Peace prize for his contribution to humanity. But he is better where he is, my guess is that he is somewhere in a better place, smiling down on all those who follow his teachings and wishing all others would see the sense in the art of simple living that he cherished even in his death.

you’ve been so close a friend

and so with this letter i send

i wish our relation never end.

whenever i log to check my mails

my heart soars and sails

with warmth that never fails

of a day full of mails.

so much has our friendship grown

with every drop of blood that flows

in my heart your mails fills the space

with joy and brightness of day.

Writing was always my passion.  I prefer to write letters to my loved ones, send emails to friends to talking and chatting over phone.  This habit of mine was however always mistaken for being unfriendly and being professional.  Sometimes you do come across people who unterstand you for what you are, however wierd you may be.  It is important to hang on to such people to realise yourself.

Friendship do not happen by financial status, by authority you hold nor by intellignece you possess.  It is the attitude that determines our friends.  Two people with sea difference in their attitudes can never never make good friends.  Of course,  I would be wrong if my definition of friendship is different from yours.

My first son Aditya tells me about his good friend Sukhdeep.  He writes an extra copy of class notes for my son  when he miss the classes.  He  wraps my son’s notebooks with neat brown cover and label them as is instructed by the class teacher.  For these and more my son finds him as his best friend.  This expectation from a friend is not with school going children alone, it is with all people of all ages.  Can’t I have a friend to whom I can simply relate for everything yet not devote any time thinking or working for him.  Isn’t it the only difference between relationship and friendship.

Fine, comment on the last few lines, good or bad………

Now im into even bigger things. im working with this legal Process company that is owned by An American. Apart from the fact that its for the first time im doing something thats related to my studies, the work is easy and relaxed. there is a feeling of contentment within my colleagues as well. Everybody feels they are part of a big family. A bunch of legal brains thats the new wave of corporate india. there is one particular aspect of the company thats worth mentioning. The human touch to professionalism and management. Our bosses are more of brothers and sisters to us than they are our superiors. They treat us with the same respect that they would give to their own higher ups. I, in particular, feel that im being treated like the blue eyed boy of the company. Maybe because im different. See im the only African in the building and all eyes are always on me when it comes to my dressing styles, manner of speech and ettiquette. i know it and whenever i walk in the building, im aware of the consciousness that my uniqueness bring to my personality.  I feel that im parhaps the pioneer of the future foreign emplyees in this company. What i do or choose not to will play a decisive factor in considering future recruitments of foreigners, more particularly Africans. I love my job and the people i work with. I could mention a few of them here if i was permitted, but since i dont want to name names-for obvious reasons, i would just say that a Mr. S, Mrs. G, V and P are particularly nice to me. I will be forever indebted to them for making me feel comfortable amongst them, a team of fully indians. im immernsely greatful to Mrs. G for being a kind driver- although i dont own the car, she makes me feel comfortable as though its my own. i would wish to tell her that i love her kindness and generousity, but i guess she would grudgingly be flattered. thats the kind of person she is. Morality and professional values are her middle names. Mr. S of course is a dignified person, with such high level of professionalism and ethical conduct that i would need to dedicate an extra page just to talk about it, i cannot begin now. Adjectives fail me. So for him i can only say, God bless u BABBA. 

You will also come to know that you’re your own mother, father, sister and the few honest friends you find shall be your extended family sort of, just like relatives back at home.

But how do you choose your friends, well nobody can say there is any specific formula but there are those people whom you bond so well with just from the moment you meet them. Krishil Reddy is someone i can say click with me right from the mention of his name. From the time i met him i felt some special bonding and understanding between us. We had the same things to talk about, from politics to business to food. It’s had to find such people and become close to them as fast as krishil and i became. His views about life in India and after were so similar to mine i could tell it that we shall remain friends forever. We had similar thoughts and visions. Of course, no two people are the same. He is a cricket fanatic and I’m just a fan, But the diversity is more complementary than conflicting. In deed, sometimes people come into your life and you know right away that they are meant to be there to serve some sort of purpose.

I do hope to have more time and opportunity to live to cherish much about our friendship. I have plans and if my plans lead me to a fulfillment that is shared in our friendship, i will have more to be happy about. That’s when i will consider having lived my life to the fullest, enjoying the moments that could only come from a true friend and family like the one i found in Krishil. Bro you’ve earned my admiration, you’ll always be my best friend, and if you die before I do ask God if heaven’s got room for two.

For the gift of our friendship, i dedicate this poem to you hommie:

You are friendly, kind and caring
Sensitive, loyal and understanding
Humorous, fun, secure and true
Always there… yes that’s you.

Special, accepting, exciting and wise
Truthful and helpful, with honest blue eyes
Confiding, forgiving, cheerful and bright
Yes that’s you… not one bit of spite.

You’re one of a kind, different from others
Generous, charming, but not one that smothers
Optimistic, thoughtful, happy and game
But not just another… in the long chain.

Appreciative, warm and precious like gold
Our friendship won’t tarnish or ever grow old
You’ll always be there, I know that is true
I’ll always be here… always for you.

- Written and owned by Angela Lee Hillsley

It is believed in India that Lord Shiva once ran his household by a mere income of scalpings collected by begging among rishis and sadhus. Have the times changed!  Now it is extremely difficult even for full time beggars (panhandlers) to make good of two meals. Not so long ago in India, on Saturdays and Mondays every beggar who showed up at the door was given a measure of rice or juvar. The guru-bhakta who went worshiping to the temple on Thursdays, got a handful of goodies and money. The beggar community feels that due to the increase in mankind’s selfishness and small-mindedness, they are not able to make a living. The government through its policies has not helped them either. “Like prostitution, begging is oldest profession  on earth. Although varying by geography and the times, begging is universal. We have heard that even richest countries like America have beggars in one form or another,” is the argument of the beggars. (read full story on http://www.kamat.com/kalranga/bhiksha/begging.htm)

Afternoon, around 3.00 PM. A beggar boy, aged 7-10 years, is unwilling to board the train. His elder ‘brother’, standing beside him, eggs him on, but the boy keeps pulling back. Finally, ‘elder brother’ catches the smaller boy’s hands behind his back and twists them. The boy winces, but makes no sound. Or if he does, it’s buried somewhere in the barbaric noise of Borivli station. No one notices. The small boy finally steps in, just as the train starts to move. I look back at the elder boy. He draws a mobile phone from his pocket and starts dialling some number. (full story on http://www.dancewithshadows.com/beggars_mumbai.asp)

the below article is about child begging in india

“Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupation,
That is known as the children’s Hour.” …more
This one is a petition to stop elephants begging in india.

The wildlife Department allowing elephants to beg for moneyin cities across india.Forced to walk long distance in the heat , elephants experience a lot of stress in the traffic-laden lanes and must dodge cars and metal goad of cruel mahouts. Exhausted, deprived of food and miserable , they are always at risk of rebelling and hurting people. Please tell the wildlife department to ban the begging. (http://cause.oneindia.in/7/2/petitiondetails.html)
 THE QUESTION THAT REMAINS TO BE ASKED NOW IS, WILL THIS PROFESSION EVER COME TO AN END GIVEN THE FACT THAT INDIA IS EYEING THE SUPER POWER SLOT IN THE NEAR FUTURE?

Although the street lights seems to be in perfect working order, the streets  are no more than a path leading to some dungeons. The buildings are so dirty you wonder if it actually habited or not. And the mother of all troubles comes in case you have to ask anybody at the airport about directions. The reason i said anybody is because everybody working at Bombay airport are as uninformed about anything that goes on there as the visitors. I made a mistake of asking a security guard to direct me to the luggage section and trust me, i couldn’t speak to anyone after that. He kept on nodding his head vehemently to whatever i asked, a process that left him look more confused than i was. After a while, i realised that the nodding was a “yes”. I could have mistaken the guy for a retarded fellow had he not opened his mouth in the last minute only to spit something i still believe was a puke. Later during my stay in India i realised that whatever the guard was chewing in his mouth is called betel nut and its a favourite amongst men here. If only i could have been the president of india, i would have banned that product from this country. It makes everything look so dirty. Those who chew it have red tar on their teeth, and you find it spat all over the walls, which apparently is white. You can imagine what happens when someone chews that for the whole day and you become the unlucky one to ask something. He then spit it right before your feet before shaking his head ten times and telling you to go staight and take left then right then…moreover the stench that accompany the spat is even more choking.

Apart from the dirt and foul smell around you, the weather in india is not at all pleasant. I arrived from kenya when the highest daily reading was 24 degrees celcius and landed to a place double the temperature. Summer in india has been the most unbearable season for me since i came to this country. How the indians live here all their lives is something i can’t wonder about. Even if you can bear the heat, or have come from some place hotter than india but still surviving in this place needs alot more willpower than you think. The shops here open at ten o’clock and that goes for most offices as well. I remember i woke up at 6.30am on my second day to register with the local police only to find the gate to the hostel where i was staying still locked. I was so irritated when the guard who didn’t even speak elementary english pushed me back to my room probably signifying that in this part of the planet it’s way before midnight by that time. I was so hungry and yet no shop or hotel was open to get breakfast from so I just dozzed again into sleep.

I’m not alleging exactly that of course, but the fact is that while there are guinine needy beggars, there are also others who find begging a convenient and easier way to earn a rupee without spending an effort. In India, it has become not only a profession to beg but also a culture to pass on to the next generation.

The moment you hit the road you will be swarmed by a group of small kids and mothers with lifeliess babies on their backs asking for chai and khanna.( a meal). They bug you so much you might suffer an attack of conscience should you not donate to them.

Of course it’s not the beggars who directly benefit from your generosity in most cases but the gangs who hire them. By the end of the day these gangs come for their bounty and the beggars only get a small commission. Recently, it was reported that in the state of Andhra Pradesh alone, the beggars contribute more to state revenue that the famed Information Technology sector. The begging menace is so deep that finally the govenment realised that unless it enacts a law to illegalise donating to begars on the road, the state stands to lose more of its revenue on these tax free businessmen. Of course, that has become a mere paper legislation.

Like everything else, beggars also come in different sizes and shapes.There are the minors, adults and elderly beggars. There are also the hermaphrodites (chakkas) who beg in trains and other big commercial areas. These are the most feared and difficult to ward off. I had got into a scuffle with them once over the minimum amount i was to contribute. While they insisted that i give them ten rupees (unlike the other beggars who would’ve been content with just anything including a piece of eaten banana), i was willing to part only with two rupees. That’s when the whole hell broke loose. It was most embarrassing when they started shouting there infront of my girlfriend and the general public I felt like i could not afford ten rupees. In a fit of embarrassment that had engulfed my ego, I threw a hundred rupee note at him and walked away almost running with my face covered by a newspaper.

Anyway as i was saying, in India do not think that all that doesn’t glitter is mud. Actually, there is a reasonable amount of riches (read gold) in every tatter that a beggar wears. I had that once on a beggar’s funeral there broke a fight between his fellow mates about who was to inherit his wealth. He had crores of untaxed money under a tree in his village home.

It is a common thing for every old woman or man feeling lazy to cook or staying alone in the house to hit the road with just a blanket and a walking stick. One would sympathise with them and throw a coin and by the end of the day, they would have made a kill considering that they don’t have to pay rent or bills. Their daily income sometimes become even higher than trained personell in respected positions.

The popularity of begging can be understood much better when you hear what sacrifices “beggars” have to make to become real beggars. On a leading news channel, an exclusive reporting was aired about doctors who specialised in cutting off a finger, an arm or a foot of a would be beggar to make them beggar-worthy. They undoubtedly earn lots of money running this business of amputation and as you would guess, such doctors are as popular as the profession of begging is.

Another news story had exposed what the babies always on the backs of their “young mother-beggars” are fed to make them sleep the whole day. the truth, according to that channel was that the babies are hired from poor families in the villages for a daily wage and then injected with formalin to put them to sleep so that they don’t cry or disturb their “mothers”.

Truth be told, nobody wants another human being to suffer and I’m not mocking the situation that beggars face everyday. But if that truth has to be stated in daylight, we should also wake up to the fact that there are lots of impostors taking this country backwards and portraying it to the rest of the world as a beggar nation. I remember my mom was a bit skeptical when I first told her that I was coming to study in India. Her first question was what was I coming to do in a country with lots of poor people and beggars. My guess is somebody must have told her the same story I’m narrating here.

of all the places i went, the most captivating place was the Pandita Mukti Morcha. This is an organisation started by Pandita Ramabhai long back in 1889  and until now, it has kept its tradition of service to the poor and down trodden.  Born to an orthodox hindu parents, Ramabhai sought to know Jesus Christ and found the path of the living God. She later converted to christianity and dedicated her whole life to the cause of humanity.

My experience at the mission is something i can write volumes about. I would only attempt to summarize it here. The work of the mission is dedicated to helping various sections of the under priviledged women and children including the blind, the aged, the physically and mentally handicapped and the poor.

I was guided through each of the sections and spoke to the inmates.I was in tears when i was shown a small girl who was mentally retarded since birth and could not talk. When she was brought to the mission, she used to tear all her clothes and run around naked i was told. Because of the power of God and the faith the caretakers had in God, she is now able to respond to questions fielded to her by clapping her hands to signify she understood whatever she was asked. She no longer tear her clothes. I also met an old lady who was once rich but after her husband’s death, she ran from her village since the relatives sought to kill her and her son for the property. She is also blind. What was amazing is that she could cook her own food. I even shared a meal with her, roti and okra. She told me to pray for her to know more about Jesus so that she could die happily.

I then visited the school for the blind where they are tought simply lessons like candle making, reading the bible in brail and other handiworks lessons. I bought a very beautiful candle from the school that will remain a treasure till my last days on earth.

My tour guide then gathered some of the girls in the prayer hall and we had at least one hour prayer and worship. We also performed comical skits to cheer their young minds. We then prayed together and by the time i left the mission, it was 5.30pm. It’s then that i realised that when you are amongst people with so less to offer yet so much to be happy for, time is insignificant.

Indian dishes can be very inspiring to your tongue if you have enough water or curd/yoghurt to kill the heat of the chillis and masalas. Trying out different types of food is something i love and most of all, i always liked experimenting with the recipes. Of all the dishes i have had in india, i can swear by the name of biryani. Thats the most delicious meal i have ever had.

I remember my first week in india. I could not even drink water. Everything tasted so spicy to me. I went hungry for three days until a friend whom i had come with found out this hotel called Paradise. They specialise in serving biryanI. From my first taste of that dish i can’t pass that hotel whenever im in that area.

Although it was a bit spicy as one would expect, but that is something i was ready to bear considering the fact that i was hungry for days and that the aroma of the food could have awoken even Mahatma Gandhi from his grave. It had such a strong and fresh aroma of different spices that was so soothing to the taste buds i actually forgot the burning on my tongue until i finished eating.

Of course there was soumf (a sweet indian mouth freshener) to dilute the burning effect that they would serve after each meal with the bill. I grew to like biryani so much that i made it a point of learning how to make it.

But i could not live on biryani alone, although i literary survived on it for one month or so. As i got used to the chilli i went trying other dishes as well. If there was something else i loved apart from biryani, it was the kababs. Although if you are unlucky to witness its preparation you would never take it to your mouth, once you eat it, you wouldn’t care even if it came from the backyard of a cowshed. My favourite kabab places has always been dehli. They serve it so hot and spicy that you actually shed tears while eating. And of course there is no better way to enjoy kababs thaN to have it with rumali roti.

A friend of mine introduced me to this delicacy and since then i’ve ran out of words to thank him. The most amazing thing about indian cuisine is that its so cheap even beggars can afford it. In less than a dollar you can enjoy a whole meal of kababs and rotis.

Yet another kebabi joint is Pune. I have been on a visit to that place a couple of times and whenever i go there, i always take a walk down the streets of M.G Road to devour into the meat kababs and kormas so religiously.

I could go on and on about eating out in india but since i still haven’t finished my meal yet, i have to come back after dinner.