When a swiss lands in India

Switzerland, as per any Indian who has grown up on a questionable diet of Indian cinema (98.99% population), is a fabled land of snow, blue waters, meandering roads, mountains and green pastures strewn with Bollywood actresses in distress looking out for first Indian (and only Indian) man in shining armor to fall in love with. This is what Indian hinterland knows about Switzerland.

A well heeled city slicker will add that it is also a land of manic precision timing (burdened as they are, with the responsibility of making exclusive watches and showing to the world that those expensive pieces actually work better than the Chinese rip offs!) and banks for the who- is- who of the worlds corrupt.

A city slicker who is aiming for the intellectual aura will add that it’s the land that has popularised referendums. He might add that this is the third attempt by the country to change world order- first came the mercenaries, then ‘neutrality’, and now referendums. (See what newbies at the game did with their referendum- Brexit!)

So, 3 layers sums up what Indians know and think about Switzerland. (more or less)

What about the Swiss, what do they think of India? Since I am not a Swiss, I do not know that, but a Swiss friend decided to visit India and form an opinion for himself. Thus started the road trip of the Swiss with his 2 Indian friends and their 5 yr old daughter! Thus also started the saga that lead to this piece being written by me!

The tale of a road trip and other hairy experiences

Road Trip begins: Swiss naturally dons the mantle of a navigator.  When Pepsi thinks of diversifying its product range, it zeros onto similarly obesity causing products like potato wafers, Otis diversifies from Elevators to escalators—you get the point- one diversifies along ones area of core strength. For the Swiss, precision- GPS tech based work of navigation was the obvious choice given his nations expertise with precision timed modes of transport! So, the Swiss opens the GPS in satellite view- the Indian opens the non-satellite view! Default stands can reveal so much !!.

Anyway, the trip starts with 3 GPS devises activated- one of the car, one with satellite view and one with normal view. The holder of the third GPS devise still is baying for 4^th party human confirmation (the Bhaiyaji Rishikesh ka yeh hi raasta hai?- Brother, is this the way to Rishikesh?). The Indian male friend driver (operative words Indian and Male, v significant)…does not completely trust any of the devises or their holders (since he is not holding a devise- thank god for small mercies!). The argumentative Indians thus start the argument on the best route. The Swiss stares baffled into empty space- He is thinking- Why the argument when obvious is, well, obvious!

5 mins and one 4^th party confirmation later, the route is settled!

Swiss, still baffled: why use 3 devises?

Indian: Data roaming has just become cheap in India, and as proud Indians, we want to use data and prove to the world that we too are tech savvy;

Swiss:  why 4^th party human confirmation from a guy on the street with no proven credentials of road knowledge

Indian: Well, that’s the way we navigated for years and we want to keep up with the proud Indian tradition. Also, we have teaming millions with no immediate use for each other-this is a way of creating utility of human power. Switzerland on the other hand, with a population that is lesser than Delhi’s, has no option but to rely on cold, human contact less, digital power.

The Swiss ponders with his brian cells in turmoil-Is this the best, logical way to navigate?

Indian: Well, Indians have time- (refer to casual, arthritic analogue time keeping tradition), we don’t trust digital world completely (check- our digi- savvy, twitter happy Prime Ministers website has links which do not work) plus we have a mutated genes which compels us to seek the most difficult path to any solution.  Refer all the religions we gave birth to-we could have sorted most of that by eliminating caste system at first go- but no, we instead drove humans to the forest for seeking an answer that was staring down at us- and created religions and accompanying books to unleash religious acrimony ( to an extent) in South Asia and make lives difficult for Indian students!!

Now that the road trip has finally started, the Swiss settles down planning for of a bit of snooze time. Living with overactive 5 year old and endlessly talking friends had eaten into his swiss watch guided precision sleep timing!

Meanwhile The Indian male at the wheel has just hit the highway!

5 mins later- Swiss- clutching onto the dashboard grooves but still not loosing his outwardly calm, eyes about 2 sizes larger than 5 mins ago, watches his mild mannered friend, turn into a moustache twirling, bulging 8 abs alpha male.

Swiss: why not just follow the rules! Why this manic behaviour?

Indian Male:  That way we will never hear the gps saying ‘u have reached your destination’.

Then, the Indian male becomes philosophical (hey….a swiss has to be given a dose of Indian philosophy else he will think that the great Indian philosophical tradition is lost). …You know why Mughals lost their empire to the British? Because they were too busy following high etiquettes-  niceties of the Mughal times! They were happily smiling (and that was not even the selfie age)…and saying pehle aap -pehle aap (first you, first you) thus wasting the time they should have been using to aim their precious few guns at the British.

We have learnt the ‘moral of the lesson’ well. So now, we aim to win (with a notable exception of sports) without wasting time on niceties. See that overloaded truck ahead on the fast lane, I can either go the Mughal way and waste 10 mins(and 20 honks) before the truck allows us to  pass….or I can go the ‘aim to win’ way and just overtake from the wrong side!! We can win…yes we can! ‘Aim for the win’ it’s Always ‘aim for the win’!

But to the credit of the Indian male, he was negotiating the highway traffic with lyrical grace of a ballet dancer….swerve smoothly around a Horn Please truck, overtake an unrelenting truck from the left, avoid making a stray dog meet his maker without stepping on the brake!!

Indian Male thinking: What skill! What expertise! I am the best driver in the whole world!

Swiss thinking but too polite to say- as yet:  What craziness! He is the worst driver in the whole world!

Finally, a swerve to avoid a motorcyclist riding on the fast lane makes the Swiss cross the proverbial line and he breaks his panicky silence with a hysterical outburst-

Swiss: If all behave sanely, I could have caught my snores….

Indian: If all behaved sanely, road accidents will sky rocket –people will get too bored driving on non- stray dog, non- wrong side moving tractor, non- men running to cross the highway, non- bullock cart loaded with sugarcane (with an occasional few slipping out ), non- reflector less cyclists at night, non ‘one eyed trucks with no reflectors’-( trucks that switch on only one headlight to save energy)….if all that drama was not happening, all Indians would be sleeping behind the wheel!!!

Swiss: Ok, I accept, but why not use just indicators—just one thing- Indicators!

Indian:  We are driving, not chit chatting with indicators! We won out freedom from the British fair and square- never again will we be bound by laws that curb our freedom! We take our independent decision and implement it. This entire obsession with referendums has made you Swiss incapable of swift, unilateral action! Why make shifting lanes a group activity when it all works out well enough with it being an individual action!!

Status at the end of 10days on the road:

Swiss: Not managed a 10 min snooze on the road, clutching of the dashboard tempered down to preparedness for a grab in 1 micro second, got well versed with the idiom- be prepared for anything anytime, accepted the inalienable right of bullock carts/camel carts/tractors/autorickshaws /donkeys/motorcyclists to be on ‘expressways’ and ‘highways’. Purchased truck decorations from a highway shop! ( a version of Stockholm syndrome????)

Swiss (with a surge of nationalistic fervour- prove to Indians that Swiss are philosophers too:) Indians are not about straight lines and digital 01 thought processes or actions. India is firmly a land of curves and bendy squibbles built on a wobbly but steady foundation of obtuse thinking and reactions.

Indian: oops, we Indians almost drove another man to the woods for seeking answers!!

The tale of food obsessed Indians and other spicy stories

A trip to Old Delhi to see the heritage buildings. Time taken to see Jama Masjid- 20 mins, Red Fort – 1min- as seen from the Boundary wall of Jama Masjid, Time taken to soak in old buildings of old delhi- 10 mins. Time taken to eat around Jama Masjid- 3 hours!

Swiss: Was not lunch planned to be at Karims[i]?. Why stop at every pushcart selling food to taste it?

Indian: this is pre- lunch tasting. Keeping up the morale and firming the home economics of push cart food sellers is our national duty- and we shall not flinch from fulfilling our duty come obesity or runny tummy!

You see, Indians are born with a cast iron stomach (till the time we ruin it by imitating the west). The proof is that we thrive (refer to Census Data : http://censusindia.gov.in/) inspite of polluted air, not the best of water and street food served with questionable hands! Not for us the street food cooked in sanitary conditions, served on clean chairs and dainty plates- under pretty umbrellas! No, our style is to avoid asking questions or dwelling on aspects that will make it difficult to eat the food. We keep the focus on the end result- the food. Everything else is moh maya[ii] !!!

Swiss: Licking on the golgappe and chaat chutney drips – Its yummy, hope it does not spoil my tummy!! 

Indian: Next stop, roasted sweet potato!

             Next stop…

             Next Stop: Karims! 

.............Finally, time for lunch!

Swiss: Are there extra stomachs for sale in this market which is selling everything from pressure gauges to wedding clothes to car doors!

Then it is the spices-There is something to be said about Indian obsession with spices. The kitchen looks like an apothecary of the yore-small bottles filled with colourful seeds and powders! We are not happy just displaying them: we actually use them- the result is a cacophony or a symphony- depending on which side of the culinary border you come from.

Swiss: My taste buds are happy but tortured…much like scratching after a mosquito bite- u get supreme happiness from scratching (even though you know it is not the right thing to do)-  you yearn to scratch more….! Bruised skin is a small price to pay for the nirvana that is scratching after a mosquito bite.

Back at friend’s house, Swiss packs his backpack.  He quietly throws out his energy bar and keeps a hand-towel next to his swiss knife. He makes a note on his iphone to send an email to Victorinox to add a small foldable, miracle absorbent towel to the swiss knife. Replacement towels sold in a pack of threes (U see, Swiss make a business of everything- watches with altimeter being sold in flatlands of middle east, Chinese noodles* being sold in India, processed African cocao** being sold worldwide, you illegally earn it- we legally store it services for all world currencies***…..the list goes on). 

*Maggi noodle      **Chocolates          ** Banks

And then there is Candy- Indian candy to be precise!

Swiss gets into a trance with homogeneous chaos of whirling humanity next to bubbling flow of Ganga maiya in Rishikesh. He is thinking about an event that broke his life learning on the topic- that candy= sugary sweet. He had been subjected to Pulse masala candy- sweet candy with a chat pata masala belly[iii]. Then he was introduced to imli (tamarind) candy, hajmola[iv] candy….

Swiss: How can  sweet/sour/savory/sweet/sour and salty ‘candies’ be misbranded as candies. Offering a sweet delight to an unsuspecting firangi and unleashing a spice ball instead should be banned.

Indian:  You ban it, we will find a way to do it legally- that too on a larger scale! Reference: demonitization[v]- poor PM did not catch illegal money, everyone found a loophole and created even more illegal money by bribing bankers to house helps in a bid to lay hands on new cash.

For Indians, spice is, well, the spice of life! You will admit, the spice in the candy does spice up the candy experience!

Swiss: Dipping into the bag of Pulse masala candy! Hmmmm!!!

Indian: Smiling! You can’t make a corrupt person honest but you can certainly try to make an honest one corrupt! The point is to be on the same side of things!

The tale of Indian Christmas and renaming a saint

The Swiss landed in India just before Christmas… To be greeted by airport and malls exteriors lighted up in yuletide spirit, newspapers filled with red and green coloured Christmas carnival/dinners/parties adverts, cheap santa masks and caps being sold on the traffic lights junctions…...Finally he reaches his Indian friends home – to be greeted by loud sounds of ‘Maaary’s boy child Jeeesus Christ, was born on ….” And greeted by sight of gargoyle of a Christmas tree made out of thermacol and paper!

Swiss, deep in thought: That Pope dude must be right, miracles do happen! I left Christmas behind in Switzerland yet it followed me here!!! I must find the Saint responsible for this and suggest his/her name for yet another canonisation by the Pope.

Swiss, speaking: 2% Christians and yet it seems Christmas is a major festival here.

Indian: There is a reason for that. With x+1 religions with x+n festivals each (include regional variations too), Indians end up celebrating a lot of festivals. With peak flurry of festivals getting over in Oct-Nov beginning, Indians recuperate for a couple of weeks but by the time Dec begins, they are left with an acute case of festival withdrawal symptom. Dec is an unusually low festival month, Indians therefore clutched on to Christmas like the proverbial straw and made it their own. We are trying to popularise Baba Nikhil[vi] as the Indian replacement of Saint Nicholas and Indianise Santa Claus to Shri Shri Sabka Khas[vii].

In modern India, there is another reason that added to the Christmas charm. China. You see, China produces all the trappings of Christmas in trillions but are left with unsold stock! They offer bargain prices to Indians to get rid of their stock- and Indians can’t resist a bargain…..even if it means popularising a new festival to a scale as never before!

The tale of where it all comes together

Over the next few days, the Swiss’s digital brain starts getting analogised! The straight lines become ah! a wee bit bendy. He walks around for hours trying to sum up India….in the blackness of night, broken by erratic street lights, the Swiss walks ….deep in thought…..he walks and walks…. The guards look at him and pass him off as an eccentric firangi[viii], the gang of stray dogs stop trying to bark at him- ‘its him, again!!, no fun barking at the same tree’, late night uber taxi driver stop looking at him with anticipation ‘we are up to earn a buck, why are you moving about like a lost truck’,  white horses clippity clapping, making their way back to the stables after the wedding festivities , nod at him ‘he is white like us!’, the late night egg-omelette seller resists an urge to call him ‘break eggs not heads or hearts’, ……

Swiss: Contrasts: that’s the word that sums up India. Where an aeroplane wheeled camel cart bulging with bags of straw calmly shares road space with a Made in India BMW, where high green mountains nestle close to desert sands, where riot of colours in clothes contrasts with whites and beiges of car colour, where yoga centred resorts share a broken road with ‘fun’ camps designed for a weekend of merriment, where a saree clad fairy (made under British influence) shares heritage space with Harappa civilization, where almost illiterate migrants are equal in numbers to highly educated tech migrants, where a woman with ghoonghat[ix] shops alongside woman in jeans, where a spotless metro train exits passengers onto to littered pathway leading upto metro station steps, where a delicately hand woven traditional saree clad woman can be eating at a truck dhaba[x] with charpai woven with strips of old truck tyres …..Contrasts- that’s what India is.

Indian: Breakfast is ready: Poha and Muesli with cold milk and Masala Chai.

Disclaimer: Apologies for making fun of all and everything. Any offense caused is deeply regretted. It is said that we make fun of things we love- that makes me biggest Indian patriot and a lover of Switzerland (based on travel to top 5 Favourite Indian destinations in Switzerland). To emphasise again, this is a flippant take on Swiss and Indian stereotypes. Any offense caused to national pride is unintentional.  And no, I have no vested interest in either popularising or defaming Pulse candy! ( Want to come out with your own verdict- - go to the nearest paan shop and buy it. To those of you not in India, I can send you some. As the Swiss says…’it’s a hammer’’!- whether the hammer is pushing in nails or breaking heads- the verdict is yours alone).    

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[i] Karims: A popular Mughlai food joint

[ii] Moh maya: worldly pleasures.

[iii] Chat pata masala: sour spicy taste with a hint of sweet and savory. Masala is also a generic term for spices- usually used in context of a mixture of spices

[iv] Hajmola- A popular brand of digestion assisting medicine made out of herbs and spices. It also has a candy version.

[v] Demonetization: For those of you who missed the news, India demonetized Rs1000/Rs500 currency notes overnight in Nov 2016 leading to chaos which continues till the time of writing this piece!

[vi] Baba- A term used for religious figures/saints. Nikhil: is a popular Hindu name

[vii] Sri Sri Sabka Khas: Sri is a title of respect before name of a man, God or a religious book. Much like Mr in English. Sri Sri is a lift off from the name of a popular Godman/religious figure in India. Sabka means for everyone, Khas means Special. Sabka Khas has been used as it kind of sounds like Santa Claus and also meets the thought behind Santa Claus (that he is special for everyone)

[viii] Firangi-Foreigner.

[ix] Ghooghat: veil covering the face- usually a part of the scarf or saree which covers the head and falls forehead down, on the face

[x] Dhaba: Highway eateries. Typically ones used by Truck drivers for food and a rest.

Planes and toddlers

Its every mom’s nightmare….travelling alone with a toddler. “my kid made my dreams come true’…..something one can picture a kind hearted, beautiful mom saying…..in most cases, dreams that do come true (related to the topic) are the ones that can technically be classified under nightmares!!

 It is surreal to expect the worst and watch it unfold infront of your eyes.

At best of times, toddlers are scary. Add no sense of discipline or authority (and my daughter is a particularly severe case) -  to a confined, unexplored space  and you have a lethal combination.

Like all parents , I have developed a skin which will shame a pachyderm !  We have learnt the art of ignoring the looks which say ‘o my god’, ‘shame on you as a parent’. In some ways, one forms a disconnect between yourself and the child….a subconscious attempt at conveying that ‘I am with this child but am not responsible for the actions’.  These are survival techniques which are not enlisted in any ‘survival for dummies’ book but nevertheless, is the most important technique used by parents. The psychological power of these techniques on the suffering parents is amazing!

So, the journey begins…..armed with a  battery of weapons one boards the taxi hoping that the weaponry will be of use. A bag full of toys, books, toffees,  straws and the like! Its carrots all the way with toddlers, stick is not an option, especially not in public space! But, as the successive generations of US defense forces will vouch, all weaponry and all the carrots that money can buy, fails when faced with a motivated lot.

Waiting in line is not what a toddler wants in a new unexplored space.....swinging on the trolley (and in the process, bumping into fellow co-passengers , whose cooperation, one may add, one needs in the flight) can only keep the child entertained for that much of time!  After that, it is more or less a saga of running after the child, leaving ones luggage with all its contents, to goodwill of people around you! Add to this scene, a chaotic airport like the Nairobi one, this is not good news for the luggage or for the mother! A thousand times I cursed my husband for not procuring a baby leash on his last trip outside the country! The logic being, one is getting dirty, judgmental looks in any case, so why not have a baby leash and let the people judge more! If there were a petshop on the airport, I would have purchased a leash straight away- one fit for a Rottweiler!

In-between the chaos of running after the child, interspersed with loud bellows to call the truant sheep home, one manages to get the boarding card.  How is it that more passports etc are not lost on the airports is a baffling thing for me…..even if one in 100 passengers are travelling with kids, one would expect a neat pile of lost documents by the end of hour 1 !

Armed with a check in card, one weaves a meandering path to the immigration….repeat of run and fetch routine till one’s turn comes. At such times one understands why Goddess Durga has multiple sets of hands- they are mighty useful when one is joggling between passports, immigration papers, finger prints and photos! Probably the Goddess was given an option between multiple hands and never ending happiness, the practical one that she is, she chose multiple hands!! For those of us without such extremities, those 3 minutes at the counter seem like eternity….coming back to haunt you in dreams in which one misplaces the passport or breaks their cameras! My daughter in particular, loves the finger print biometric machine. The fact that her finger prints are not being taken rankles her (hell! I am an individual in my own right)…and like Kejriwal , she sets about trying to right the wrong (action being the key word, law and procedures are  a hazy bumble for Kejriwal and are non existent for my daughter! Deviating from the topic, do you think I should get a free membership of AAP for my daughter? Those guys are sitting at the entrance of the nearby market ….one would have mistaken them for those showering free samples of newly launched butter, was it not for the caps)

Then comes the next stage,  security check!  Security checks are a challenge with a toddler (like all other things). By the time the stroller is folded, the child could be anywhere!  And by the time you have unpacked your laptop and explained to the security personnel as to why one is carrying tetrapacks of juices and milk, the child could, in theory, have boarded the plane to Russia!

This done, now is the time to wait, shopkeepers beware- mother, more beware…all things broken are considered sold! Co passengers waiting patiently for the boarding to start also don’t have it easy.  Picture this, a person, finally through with all formalities, has just settled down with a cup of coffee and is catching up with the world that has whizzed past all this while that s/he was staring into the immigration cameras. S/He is in a hurry to catch up, to tell the world, which is waiting with bated breadth, that s/he is at the Nairobi airport…..suddenly s/he senses something fluttery on her/his shoes!! Then the flutter turns more like a touch and a piercing cheerful scream rips over the airport din……the coffee spills, the laptop fumbles…..The perpetuator- my daughter, who had crept in from under the back of the seat, attracted like a moth to a flame, by the interesting shoes (laces, buckles, colour- anything )….the scream being the output of sheer joy of bettering the obstacle course! The poor passenger cannot even scream at the kid….a weak smile and off s/he goes to fetch another cup of coffee (strained nerves) and to find a safer, hidden corner to hide her/his shaken and stirred mortal body!

Once inside the plane, a mommy looks around to get seats where other, unknown passengers are not seated. This is less to treat ourselves to comfort and more to prevent harassment of the passenger unlucky enough to sit next to us.

You know why kids cry when plane takes off…..its a way to sonically detect where other kids are seated….so that the fun can start once mommies allow the kids to move!  Like Elephants communicating through stomach rumbles, the kids plan their next moves with each other through those cries. As soon as seatbelt sign is off, the selected kids raise hell for susu/potty so that mommies are forced to taken them to the loo. In that journey, the selected kids zero in on the precise coordinates of fellow kids….now all is set for the nextstage.

Slowly, kids start emerging from the seats to the aisle…..and soon enough, they are playing with each other, with each others toys and going around to all the mommies to extract all the chocolates from them (mommies take out the chocs to calm down the kids when they are next to her!).  The veterans in flying kids teach the green eared ones new tricks- how to embarrass mommies by asking stewards for more nuts, how to insist on susu/potty when the food trolleys are precisely in the middle of the plane, how to spill water/soda in a way that a bit falls on a passenger (.a bit being the operative word- too much of it and it invites sanctions from mommy….a bit is just right, not good enough for sanctions but good enough for a laugh) etc.  A particularly hairy trick (in this case, actually hairy), is one of touching clips of the women sleeping with their heads on the aisle side. One feels sorry for the women but cest a vie!

While the kids create mayhem, mommies try to do damage control …inbetween hurriedly taken sips of vodka and sprite…silently thanking the Gods that may be, for giving mankind the brains to come up with wonderful inventions!

Toddlers have a gigantic , amazingly  fast brain when it comes to coming up with ways of being a nuisance to society. The bit about taking forever to learn words and alphabets, spending years learning inane rhymes …well that is just a worldwide conspiracy perpetuated to prevent them from being held accountable for their deeds. Get the toddler on the seat and they immediately find a suitably disruptive way of opening the table on the seat infront (opens with a bang, since they are not equipped with hydraulic niceties….and gives the person sitting on the seat infront a nice jolt everytime!).  Then they stand on the seat and the table…..stare into passengers on the seats….and then egg them on to play peekaboo with them.  For the non child oriented passengers, there can be nothing more irritating (as it used to be for me when I was not a mommy…I feel for you buddy…..).

Finally, toddler gets tired enough to sleep….a time which mommies use to thrust in nutrition ,healing alcoholic waters and a spot of TV. A world class spa cannot bring in such copious amount of relaxation as a kid finally going off to sleep in a plane!!

5 mins from landing, your toddler is sure to scream his /her life out for potty which shall not find its exit in a diaper ….and as soon as you settle the child for a favorable exit, the seat belt signs come on!!! The pachyderm skin helps you live through those moments when you know you are breaking the law….but a toddler has to go when a toddler has to go!!

Finally one lands…repeat the immigration fracas and you reach the belts to retrieve your luggage.  There is something about the conveyor belts that begs the toddlers to explore them……so one has to multitask- keep the toddler off the belt while squinting over the belt to locate your luggage! You are elated to get one of the two baggage immediately…..its then that murphy’s law sets in…..the second one will be among the last ones to come….by which time your kid is bored of the conveyor belt, bored of the trolley, bored of jumping on your luggage (which always has something breakable)…and is looking actively for fresh pastures to explore.

Finally, you are on your way out…if you are lucky, relatives will be waiting at the exit….you will, without a tinge, hand over the toddler parcel to them and hope that they can cope up!! Vacation has just begun!!!

Disclaimer: All incidents mentioned are true. And no, I am not about to add a soppy line about inspite of problems, how rewarding parenthood is!! I  have yet to see the rewards and don’t harbour secret illusions that there will be any!!!

AGE , AGING AND AGE DEFYING FORMULAS

AGE , AGING AND AGE DEFYING FORMULAS
Suddenly, there is a slew of adverts on Indian TV of aging creams. The preferred models being the actresses and starlets who have just recently retired from playing the nubile girl in the Hindi movies.

As it turns out, 32 is a v old age and if one wants to look ‘young’ at 32, enough to keep your husband attentions, then one has to start using these products!! The punch line being look 23 at 32!!! The latest advert I saw today brought the bar a bit lower- its reduced from 32 to 28!!!!!!!!!!!!

If I go by the adverts, some things are clear
- 32/28 is old age
- At 32, girls are married and the focus is on husbands- possibility of an unmarried woman dolling up for a boyfriend is not shown
- That women now at 32 are acknowledged to have more purchasing power than in the past- enough to allow them to buy un proven, expensive and trivial cosmetics products
- No such products for men , as yet. Guess these will follow in a couple of years (like the fairness cream thing, last couple of years, it’s the men fairness creams that are slowly hogging the airwaves)

What does it mean to a person like me, who his well above 32 and wayyyy past 28, Apart from making one feel old!!

If I look at myself, I think I had greater fun later on the years than early on. This would probably be true for a substantial number of women in India.

What was I doing
Before 18: studies, exams, watchful mother, studies focused father….pimples, resenting looking older than my elder sister

18-22: studies, tension of ‘building a career good , pressure to avoid the doomsday scenario repeated by my dad ever since we were kids- that of becoming a LDC in a govt dept; passing the exams, finding a job………

23-28 : start working, pressures of getting married, a non cooperative boyfriend who does not see eye to eye with parents on the issue of marriage (ok, a clarification on this by the then non cooperative boyfriend- that I was a cooperative daughter but a non cooperative girl friend).

Yes, in between all this, there was fun, but this fun was tempered by many considerations, some self created and some not, which did not allow a ‘carefree’ time of fun. Being a good daughter – in terms of education and in terms of meeting the relative conservative standards at home and similar things in all public and private spheres of life. One rebelled, did precisely the things that parents would rather have us not do (like having a boyfriend and associated escapades), but all of them were done with a feeling of guilt – of not being the perfect daughter/student that was expected of us.

So, basically, all these early years were one of interesting strife, a period of tug of war between what I wanted to do, what I thought I wanted to do (or maybe not) and what was I was expected to do. One’s horizon was growing, one’s wish to extend it was growing too but there were constraints, temerity, some of them v intangible, which always prevented one from , atleast feeling like a ‘rebel without a cause’.

It was post 23 that things began to change….one started becoming more adventurous, more confident of oneself, more confident of what one was thinking and when one’s access to freedom was becoming greater by the day.

I think that a lot of real development and real exploration for me started only after 23 and continues till today. Am pretty lucky in a way on this, that I am not caught in the conventional hoopla which many women get caught in – esp post marriage etc.

In any case, the point is that at 36, I am, I think, a much better person than I was at 23- if not better, atleast I am more relaxed abt what I am – with all the faults and shortcomings. At 36, I probably have more character in me than I had at 23. In between 23 and 36, I think I have had fun- much more of a carefree fun than I had before that!! Even at 36, there are new exploration of oneself that one is doing- still trying to be what I think I want to be!!!!!

So, why would I want to roll back years and become 23 again???? Why would I even like to LOOK like when I was 23. At 36, grey haired, a couple of kgs extra weight – all classical signs of ageing can be seen…but then, who cares! One is a mirror of what one has been through….and what genes one gets….why would I want to hide/defy either!!!

I am sure there are women like me in India, who feel the same. At 36, they want to look what they look like just what they look like. They have managed to loosen some of the strings with assorted expectations from assorted sources…..so why would we like to add an apology of not looking like am 23 at 36 !!!

For all of us, would be good that these adverts caught up with what we feel! Maybe that will persuade more of us to spend our hard earned money on a worthless products that are being sold so painstakingly!

10 ways to create traffic jams in Delhi- by govt and by residents

How to create a traffic jam, 10 lessons from Govt of Delhi
1. Organise an international sports event in the city, start work on it 10 mths before the inauguration day and then, dig up the whole city to relay the roads, beautify the city etc.

2. Pick up a 1 sq km area, zero down on the main road, start work on it at 8.45 am by taking off the stones of the divider and leaving it 2 mtrs on either side of the road. Stop work at 11.00 am and start work in another site. Prepare a schedule such that each site gets 3 hrs of work each month.

3. Prepare a good road, dig a 30 cm straight line across the road so that vehicles have to come to a crawl to cross this, vehicles crash into each other when one of them is not able to stop in time and ofcourse, if you ignore it then you pay for it to the mechanic

4. Prepare a good road, study the guidelines for a good speedbreaker…..make an exact opposite of it, preferably one which is so constructed to touch the base of the car engine each time you try to go over the speed breaker.

5. for a big construction (like a flyover), make good side roads and then make BIG potholes on it. Pour a truck of water on the road each day so that the potholes expand exponentially each day.

6. Once a flyover/underpass is ready, start building another one 2 kms down the road within 2 months of completion of the first one

7. Equip red lights with highly sensitive water sensors and tune in a way that a single drop of rain will switch off the red lights for 2 sq km around.

8. Turn off the red lights in each area for 2 hrs/day around the peak time. The jam will last 4 hrs.

9. Change the traffic pattern for the main roads on a monthly basis by opening/closing free left turns, making a road one way etc- this will ensure a continuum of jams

10. In residential areas next to high volume roads, do not make provisions for taking convenient u turns or for changing to the other side of the road. People will drive on the wrong side and this will create jams.

How to create a traffic jam, 10 lessons from people of Delhi
1. Always drive in a way that your vehicle straddles the white lines on the road (why does govt spend so much money in making the dashed and continuous lines on the road for beautification?)

2. It is safe to keep moving till about 20 secs AFTER the orange light has turned red

3. In residential neighbourhoods, park your big cars in a way that ¼ of the car is on the pavement and ¾ on the road. The bigger the car, the more space you have the right to take on the road

4. Wherever there are subways, never use them. Instead, make a small hole, break a couple of bars of the fence along the road separator and cross the road. Now, with no red lights, each time you cross, the traffic will come to a halt.

5. Private bus operators, to stop at a bus stop on a road 4 lane wide, bring the bus to a halt with the nose of the bus in the first lane and the tail in lane 3. Make sure that at no point in time, should the nose of the bus be less than 3 mtrs from the bus stop shed.

6. Make an informal bus stop right after the red light or under the flyover. It helps in slowing down the traffic

7. A fight on the pavement is a signal for everyone to slow down/stop and watch the fight.

8. A road accident/vehicle ceasing in the middle of the road is a signal for everyone on vehicles to slow down/stop and watch whats happening

9. Do not use school transport, drop and pick up your school going children and create a jam on the road each day..

10. Save every meter of mileage of your vehicle- ride opposing the traffic to save 2 mtrs (since the u turn is 2 mtrs too far) and create jams.

Bye Bye Dublin

2 years seemed like a long time when I was waiting for a release from the vicious never ending cycle of school board exams…..I remember then looking at a cow chewing the cud- u know, the way they tend to, and thinking, how perfect it would be to be a cow…eat, chew and sleep! No exams, no daily lectures on the necessity of academic brilliance…..! (those were pre climate change hoopla days when a cow meant just a cow to the vegetarian me, now I see a cow, I think of greenhouse gases, cow as legitimate food category –raw and cooked!! Etc etc etc....). Anyway, I am deviating from the point, where was I, yes, 2 years then stretched on like a never ending road ….but the 2 years in Dublin….. have whizzed past without me realising for a moment that the time was ticking away at such a furious pace!!

I still remember my first sight of Dublin……vastness of sea, a bit of a port …all next to verdant fields! Beautiful! Now I am headed for an exactly opposite place….a land locked country which is a desert!!!! Contrasts of experience and beauty !!

Strange as it sounds, I will miss the Dublin weather. For one, it is the reigning preoccupation of everyone- the weather forecast. Weather controls the psyche of the population…..everyone lives in the hope that one day, the beautiful, perfect, warm sunny day will descend from paradise on Dublin! And everyone lives in the hope that today is the day! The fact that this happens for precious few days in a year (countable on fingers) means that everyone faces disappointment more often than success!! And Yet, each day, the cycle of hope continues! Without my realising it, I had joined this ‘gang of hope’! Never ever in my life I was in the habit of waking up in the morning and peering outside the window to see what the weather is like…u see, in India, weather follows the not so hot, hot and hotter cycle….so each summer day is pretty much the same as the other, …..day to day variations are pretty minimal and ofcourse, there is no scope of harbouring hope….summer will be fiery hot –day after day!





But the Dublin weather taught me valuable lesson or two
- Always be prepared…carry an umbrella and a raincoat ALL the time (umbrellas break and cant be used in face of RAGING winds). By extension, it means be prepared for anything in life!!
- It made me gain a new found appreciation for the sun….and sunshine! I will never be able to curse the Sun again! That’s because sunshine is a very dear commodity here…. I am so thankful to my organisation for packing me off for months to sunshine lands! Else, I would be Vitamin D deficient by now.

Leaving behind the weather will feel like leaving behind a part of me!!! I am sure that I will be the sole frequent visitor on the live camera weather coverage website of Guinness! (from an installation on the top of their Dublin factory in Dublin- it was finally installed after many postponements- because of the weather!!

Dublin bus….another staple that I will miss. My very dear 130 which has been an everyday part of my life! I will miss the familiar strangers on the bus stop whom I see everyday, smile at everyday ….once in a while share a line( about, what else, the weather!! )but strangers never the less! Each day, my bus pass greeted the bus with a loud beep- after which I would quickly scan for my favourite seats in the bus….and spend the next few minutes peering out of the widow trying not to get impatient with the bus stops every 50 mtrs! I will surely miss my routine of listening to music in the bus….quiet, peaceful time with myself and my ipod! Will also miss the odd smiles- from evesdropping into someone’s conversation or watching the kind driver stop for ages to allow an old woman to cross the street and board the bus!



I am already getting the separation pangs from the two things which, for me, describe Dublin’s physical characteristics….the vegetation and the sea! Sea, the beautiful, forever cold expanse which greets me everyday, dotted with wind surfers and ferries…..and the trees…which provide Dublin with its visual drama- the wonder canvas changing with the weather! The joy of seeing the streets and garden aflame in autumn and the sight of little leaves unfurling in spring is so wonderfully uplifting! Loved that (in context of the fact that I come from a country which is, pretty much defined by evergreen trees- where winter is the time for flowers to bloom, spring is the death period of flowers and where autumn is a season which we know of because we were told so in school. Don’t know why in India we have not changed our paradigm from 4 seasons to 3 – summer, monsoons and winters!!!!)





I hope that I have not become too used to the organised and clean city (I know Dubliners will disagree and so will ones from other parts of Europe, but remember, my comparison base is chaotic, rules in the wind, trash reigning supreme and dusty India….and before my Indian friends gang up to greet me at New Delhi airport with a protest march, I should specify that I love India - complete with its chaos, ample faults and equally ample strengths!!). All this time that I have been in Dublin, I have tried to keep the practice of looking left-right-left (ad nauseum)…with each step as I cross the street. But lately, I have caught myself slipping up and sinking into the luxury of knowing that the cars will stop when the lights command them to do so! (In India, this cannot be taken for granted as there are many true followers of Gandhiji who stand up against any orders which attempt to curb their freedom….including right of zipping around the city uninhibited by redlights!) Hopefully, this ‘slipping up’ is not as yet a habit, if it is, then it spells a bad omen for my survival chances in the next couple of months after I leave Dublin !!! I think Dublin (or the parts which I frequent in any case) is a great balance on cleanliness…..it is more or less clean but not manically clean like Switzerland!

Ireland shares an interesting relationship with Britain. India and Ireland, both share the same colonisers. In India, I don’t see a ‘hangover’ hate anymore…..UK is looked up for its economic opportunities (much like other developed countries) but them being the ex colonisers does not impact our everyday decisions/conversations or even political decisions. Ireland is the opposite, Britain is hated…..its accent, its attitude ….anything which links Ireland to Britain, be it economy, organisations or people….that is resented! Working in an organisation originally from Britain meant that I had more than my fair share of hearing the Britain bashing! Now that I will move away from Ireland and even from a Britain based organisation, I have a feeling that I will miss this banter!!

The accent….I still carry with me an untrained ear as far as accents are concerned but I have managed to catch on the Irish one….and more importantly, distinguish between the British and the Irish accent. On a good day, I am even able to make out a Northern Ireland accent from that of the Republic!!! (am so proud of myself)….still, will admit that some of the thickest Irish accents continue to evade me!! I remember my dad running into one of these accents and turning around to ask “what language is he speaking in’???!!!! I will definitely carry a fond memory of the accent!!!

As I write this piece, its winters and Christmas is fast approaching. Dublin in winters is not the best place to be in (but not the worst)….what makes it all interesting are small things…..like the fairy lights along the river which greet me like blue and white coloured stars as I walk along the river- converting the darkness magically into a cheerful and peaceful sight all at the same time. As Christmas approaches, even in these recessionary times, Dublin starts reflecting the cheer. The decorated with lights markets, the decorated shop windows, Christmas fairs, the crush of people in the markets thronging for Christmas shopping, the choirs singing carols….the parties …..and the happy and warm sight of Christmas tree lights twinkling in each house…..it is, truly a magical time! Next year around, I will surely surely surely miss living through this magic!



I will miss Clontarf…….I know the Southsiders will read this and think ‘How can anyone miss the Northside!’….but snob behaviour aside, I love Clontarf….with its sea, the beautiful sea front, its beach full of wind surfers (weather or cold water do not allow other ‘beachy’ pursuits), St Anne’s park, farmers market on Saturday, its tree filled areas……..and its safety….never for a moment, even at 3 am, did I feel a bit scared here (contrast that to city centre whose corners plunge into depths of being infested by unruly drunkards). Come on Southsiders, come over, pick up the courage, cross the river and discover a whole new world!!

I will also miss the Dublin Gurudwara ….I loved its simplicity and its langar (the best vegetarian Indian food in Dublin by a long shot). Though not a Sikh, I still loved going there few times in a year on a Sunday and listen to the prayers being sung….. enjoy the food and listen to conversations in Punjabi (supposedly my native language)!! I loved looking at the small kids in the Gurudwara….the little girls, dressed in traditional clothes chattering away in Irish accented English!!! One sees the interplay of immigrant mentality in the Gurudwara….of parents who want themselves and their kids to hang on the fringes of their native culture…..and children, seamlessly blending their two influences…..but would be interesting to see how well these kids cope up with the twin pressures 10 years from now!!




I will be called a traitor towards those who gave me the work permit if I did not include a paragraph, atleast, on Guinness. Guinness, the national identity of Ireland, the national love- the love of Guinness is the litmus test which decides whether one can be included in the hallowed halls of being Irish or an acceptable version of being that! Well, I am not going to miss Guinness because I never really developed a taste for it….nevertheless, I have tucked in quite a few pints. Atleast I am better than Shw, who, at Guinness factory tour, chose a fizzy drink over a free pint!!!!!!!!! Now THAT is scandalous and unpardonable. If shared with the authorities, shw’s visa could have been revoked for insulting the nation!

But what I WILL miss are the plethora of pubs strewn across each every corner of Dublin!! The watering holes which form an integral part of everyone’s life! The concept of neighbourhood Kiryana shop of India has been replaced here by a neighbourhood pub! Hopping across to a pub free country from here would be a shock….and I am sure to miss them!

This piece will not be do justice to Ireland if I don’t mention the Irish people- the warm, friendly bunch who are ready with a smile and a beer for anyone! …..Cant recollect how many times have I been asked if I needed help coz I was looking lost on the street, or old women chatting me up about my country or skin colour (all in a good way) ……Ireland truly lives upto its reputation of being a warm country inhabited by people with a friendly gene! (long live the inbreeding among Irish forced coz of it being an island)!!

And finally, my friends and colleagues who made living here a happy experience. But this is an issue of another piece!!




As of now, the farewell time has begun- the wheels of transition are grinding hard and fast! The house is slowly metamorphosising into a packing yard- strewn with packaging material and suitcases! As this chapter closes, I am wondering whether and when I will be back?

After having made a few shifts of residences, one would imagine that nostalgia would become a jaded feeling ….but surprisingly, that is something that has not yet happened with me! The feeling of being uprooted never ceases and continues to do a replay each time I pack my bags….the goodbye’s to friends don’t become easier…..Thankfully, the human heart and mind is an amazing piece of art- it can accommodate all the memories without erasing the old ones! Each experience adds to what one is ….and therefore, I am sure that I will carry a piece of Dublin and my life here forever! All I can hope is that I am, indeed, going back with positive changes in myself….that I have absorbed the good things that Ireland had to offer….and that these changes will reflect in my everyday actions for all my life.

But for now……..a new life with new adventures beckons me (given the location, it is bound to be an adrenalin filled one!) …. I am looking forward with anticipation to the starting this brand new journey and to being together with Shw again!! Hopefully, the reign of positive experiences will continue and you will read yet another nostalgia filled bye bye piece from me!

Disclaimer: Call it getting old or just plain soggy emotions but this must be the first piece I have written which does not really have a potential for hurting sentiments of anyone! But being the extremely cautious person that I am, I will still go ahead with an unconditional apology to anyone whose sentiments may have been hurt by this piece. Like always, license to exaggerate remains firmly in my hands! All jabs at anyone/anything are purely in good humour!

Footnotes
1. Gurudwara- the temple of the people belonging to Sikh religion.
2. Langar- free, vegetarian meals served in a Gurudwara as a blessing. Its significance lies in it being a symbol of equality- where anyone, regardless of caste, class, gender, religion can come together to eat together as equals
3. Kiryana shop- grocery shop

Gaza revisited- 9 months after the war

I sat in East Jerusalem, watched the buzz of the old town with its chaos and mish mash of life passing by but at the back of my mind, I was thinking of what lies in store for me the next day -the day I had to do the crossing into Gaza from Erez . I guess it goes for everyone who crosses – for the first or the nth time, there is always this fear – in anticipation of how would it be…will one be turned back, will one be asked top 10,000 questions in the Israeli defence forces book, will one whisk past in 10 mins or will it be a 2 hr ordeal…..

‘Why do you want to go to Gaza, Gaza is a bad place’ these were the words of Israeli officials in the Interior ministry when I sat infront of them seeking a way out of my inability to enter Gaza coz of visa issues. The word Gaza had ensured that the only possible solution was 15 days away! (the word Gaza always evinces instinctive reactions- it usually means a wait and some form of minor torture!).

Is Gaza an independent country or is it occupied territory?? Two mutually exclusive options are
a. If it is independent, then one should need a visa from Palestinian /Gaza authorities to enter Gaza. In this case entry back into Israel should need a visa.
b. If it is occupied territory then Gaza is a part of Israel and therefore there should be no need for a visa to enter Israel back given the fact that one had not left the country in any case!

How can the two mutually exclusive options have an overlap! Well, in case of Gaza, the impossible happens!!! While the ‘permit’ to enter Gaza is issued by the Israelis and Israelis alone (gaza side does a bad job of even recording who enters!), Israelis still treat Gaza as an international boundary and therefore consider an entry back into Israel as possible only with a valid visa!
I for one would be ecstatic if option a. was really true….but it is not. Does existence of this rule mean that Israelis officially agree to two nation theory and therefore agree that Palestine has a right to exist as an independent nation? Do they agree to a fragmented holy land? Any Israeli politician/official who would say this would probably have a couple of days to live before being butchered the kosher way…..so how come this policy of treating Gaza as international boundary exist (in some semi official manner)! Weird!

But then, one can not argue with Israeli officials….they ofcourse don’t smile, and after a couple of times of explanations, they manage to convey v clearly (without using overt means) that one more word and the machine gun will be pointing at your head! Sensible people turn into sheep and run off….which is exactly what I did when I was turned back from the border. My parents will read this paragraph with tears in their eyes…..they know of me as a militant arguing person when face to face with unreasonable officials of any kind in India…….they have been hoping that I metamorphosise into a sane, calm butterfly …..guess they will feel let down when they see that the metamorphosis did happen….but what came out was a mere moth!! Their tigress in India is a tigress because she knows that her arguments will eventually be heard….but who cowers down when she is in face of unmovable Israelis (and ones armed to the teeth!). Am really worried about this observation of myself….means that I am no better than an ordinary road side bully!!!
Have I ever mentioned before how I have started thinking of Indian police as bumbling fools…see, even if they hold a gun, it is usually an ancient variety which may not even fire a bullet straight….and add to that the police persons would probably have to move their overflowing waist hanging over the holster before they could even touch the metal! Well, Israeli forces are the exact opposite…..they are a yummy looking bunch of lean, mean, fighting machines – literally! Guns look like a natural extension of their bodies!! And I know they know how to shoot!
Anyway, tried Erez next day again on advise of UN….and voila …got thru- 10 mins flat…no questions, no arguments!!!!! Now I was worried about the trip back!
The lonely walk from Erez crossing from Israel side towards the Gaza side is an eerie one….for one, it is pretty desolate, it’s a long 300 mtrs one which seems MUCH longer…..and one is always conscious of what could happen- bored Israeli forces doing practice shooting being the worst! (and that actually happens !) If alone, the best option is to hire a porter….who will then proceed to talk to you non stop for the journey about your family and his….but NEVER failing to point out the empty bullet shells gathering dust! It is like they get their piece of fun knowing that this will not fail to send a wee bit of tremor down the lilly livered non Gazans! Don’t grudge them their piece of fun!!

9 mths on- how had Gaza changed….will the scars of war still be evident? Will the mood of the population be more upbeat? I was leering out of the widow paying scant attention to my colleague from Gaza who was chattering away in his cheery way (He ALWAYS has a smile, it is wonderful- and saccharine sweet)

The border had changed dramatically….they were writing down details meticulously on who was entering and even had a amiable person manning the Swine Flu booth (You are from India?, I had a friend named Chandini from India….I did not dare to ask what the ‘friendship ‘ was)!! They checked the bags well….found the liquor and let it go with a smile ‘Its only one bottle’!! Was happy, would be a waste to let non enthusiasts enjoy mango vodka! (Mango vodka is the best of both worlds coming together in a seamless whole!). Some of you will actually believe this but I truly was carrying the bottle for a friend (and not beause I am in a habit of carrying a paua everywhere with me- Ma, don’t cry I am not a bevri )!!

Anyway, turns out that the high level of activity was only to keep tabs on Fatah supporters attending the Fatah General Body meeting ongoing at that time in Jerusalem! After all, Hamas had a promise to keep ‘ Any person who comes back from the Fatah conference will need a new pair of legs’!!

Well, Gaza in reality turned out to be a mixed bag….the rubble was cleared, the stark signs of buildings burnt by phosphorous gone but the buildings were still in a rubble….only now the bulldozers had shifted the rubble a bit! The large government buildings damaged/destroyed showed no sign of rebuilding activity. What had changed was that a large majority of people who had lost their homes in the war had been able to rebuild – using a collection of salvaged bricks and a bit of new bricks to build atleast one room. One room, v congested etc but one room more than what they had a few months back. In that way, the development was better than what one can see in some other parts of the world. But construction, at the level needed, was just not possible with Israel’s siege of 2 years ensuring that no construction material entered Gaza. All material they have is what has been smuggled from the Egyptian tunnels..making the cost of construction prohibitive.

Most people impacted by the war had also received some support or the other from charity groups/government. The support ranged from money to food to medical aid….however, the process of selection seemed chaotic…. some very obvious families receiving much lesser than others less vulnerable. Good cases abound….so do those of obvious misses.

The markets in Gaza showed a definite sign of revival….the shops were open and full of products. The prices were down from the insanely high levels in the immediately aftermath. Petrol and cooking gas was once again available. This is because the tunnels are working well now, not because the Israeli’s have loosened the siege.
The war had wrecked havoc on the farm lands of Gaza- thanks to the Israeli tanks and heavy equipment….greenhouses were destroyed, storages were destroyed and standing crops/trees destroyed too. Thanks to support to farmers after the war, the production of fruits and vegetables was recovering - with the greenhouses being repaired and attempts at kick-starting the production, wherever possible, with or without the greenhouses. Fruit trees are being replanted- though at a slower pace. The farmers, cannot hope to achieve the levels of prosperity they enjoyed before the siege made it impossible for them to export their excess produce, still, they are able to sell their produce within Gaza. Maintaining agricultural land cultivated also serves a strategic purpose of asserting their presence on the land and therefore making it a bit tougher for the Israeli forces to edge the buffer zone further into Gaza- without a fight!

Psychosocial support had been received in some form or other by many, especially among kids. UN had unleashed a huge programme on this count. The point is with what effectiveness!

I heard that many ambulances were allowed in after the war and some of them by now had been converted into public transport. Not ideal but not too bad…..they are not cars for the rich and atleast fills part of the void of public transportation when replacements are not available thanks to the manic siege!

And yes, more motorcycles- all smuggled from the tunnels! (it’s a wonder what these tunnels will get in)….and like motorcyclists everywhere- they have added to manic driving in the city, roaring past on obscene speeds, roaring away in their macho world…..with dire consequences for others ofcourse!

It was summer, so the beach was full of families (inspite of one Hamas dictat- which was later withdrawn)….the parks were full of families too….was so good to see this sign of ‘normalcy’!! Families and couple out till 11-12.00 in the night! Great!
I was there in Gaza for kick-starting a capacity building process. It was with this group that I felt the biggest change towards normalcy….last time people were ONLY talking about the war, the planes, the near misses etc…..this time, it seems that people had settled down and were allowing less weighty matters to peek out more and more - men were busy eyeing eye candies in the group, complaining about food/airconditioning, gossiping about whether the eye candy of a translator fancied my colleague from Gaza, women were talking about family picnics to the beach, the plans for Ramadan……Goooood!

But there are things that showed no change….skirmishes with Israeli forces continue on a daily basis. Shooting at Palestinian farmers trying to plough their land in the unofficial ‘buffer zone ’ (I think the Israeli game plan is to have whole of Gaza coming under buffer zone in next 100 years….to be achieved in baby steps broken down into a day by day plan of squeezing the population), Israeli bulldozers levelling land in the buffer zone, Israeli missile from the sea…EACH AND EVERY DAY! Hamas from Gaza fire missiles too…each of which is retaliated to immediately and fiercely….with a couple of deaths atleast. The local joke in Gaza is that the Hamas missiles are bad…..because they don’t kill in any case….and in cases where it does manage to kill, it is usually that of a fellow Palestinian from Gaza (u see these missiles go up and often don’t follow the parabola but drop vertically …much like scenes from Tom and Jerry)!

‘I don’t know why we have kids in Gaza. I did not want to have kids. Kids makes one more scared of all that is happening around. But I had no choice….and I have kids’….my collegue from an NGO’s words hit home.

Another mess that continues to thrive- war or no war is the political mess of Gaza. Gaza must have the highest density per sq km of political parties /political/religious groups in the world! Hamas, the ruling party is largely considered (and rightfully so) a strict religious group….they have effectively changed Gaza from being fairly liberal to a state where it is largely conservative. And surely, the impact is most starkly visible on women….more and more head covering, lesser independent movement etc. Still, a small space for dialogue remains ….Hamas frequently comes out with dictats and in many cases, backs down later. However, all this still serves to reinforce among people that playing safe = being conservative. But this tiny space for dialogue is of critical importance and one which needs to be retained.

Fatah, the other major political group (the ones in power in West Bank) is in shambles due to political targeting, widespread corruption and aged political heads who have lost the pulse of the community. It was in face of tried and tested Fatah and its corruption, that the people of Gaza had voted for change in 2006- and landed with Hamas which has become equally corrupt now….but who retain their confidence of needing a couple of months to get their support base back in their folds (don’t ask me how)!

And then there are range of other collections- ranging from ones who make (and call) Hamas liberal to those who are really more liberal and ‘social’ oriented. All of these have smaller support bases, none of which, in the present scenario, is large enough to win the elections! There is hope, however, for a positive change next time around.

It was one of such smaller groups that lead me into the biggest excitement while in Gaza!

14th August, the day when Gaza (and Palestine) was declared an Islamic Emirate by Abdel Latif Mussa, head of Jund Ansar Allah group, from a mosque in Rafah, South Gaza. Mussa (may his soul wander aimlessly forever) was an extreme fundamentalist who actually called Hamas ‘liberal’. His group had been torching internet cafes, restaurants, beauty parlours and children centres for a while in Gaza. He had no Israel Vs Palestine ideology preferring instead the alliance with larger Muslim brotherhood. Hamas officials went down and dutifully shot down Mussa and his 40 + supporters /family. And then the process of hunting down the supporters who had scurried away began. I woke up in early hrs of the morning on a Sat (thus disturbing my very precious late morning start ritual over a weekend) with machine gun firing away somewhere….bursts every few minutes…….I thought that I should get up and go to the alley in the room where there was no exposure to windows….but was too sleepy and tired after a night time of watching BBC and Al Jazeera tracking the events….so preferred to let my luck save me! Anyway, the shooting was not in the next building in any case! Amazingly, by afternoon, everything was back to normal…..the people were out on streets, the shops were open, sheeshas were bubbling away….life was back to normal…..amazing resilience!!!

Next day my colleague told me this – a stray bullet had pierced through the windows of the room where till 15 mins before the bullet struck, he was sitting with his friend !!! Life and death are seconds away for everyone ….but in some places more than others, one lives out this experience more often …Gaza is surely one of such places!!!

But I had my fun moments in Gaza too. Meeting with some friends- one of whom, in particular, is an inspiration for me….a woman with courage to rebel in Gaza! Spent a great first day of Ramadan with her extended family – 50 people….ranging from ultra religious to ultra liberal- yet having v loving relationships! Then it was the sheeshas/arguilas/ hookahs….Hamas had banned them for a while that I was there….prompting my friends to go on a rebellious frenzy of ordering Hookahs….all of that disappeared as soon as Hamas lifted the ban!! Then it was mangoes….I pigged out on the lovely, variety which I had not had before, excellent Palestinian food (inspite of my vegetarian state)….and finally, the sun (v hot but sun nevertheless)!

Finally, it was time for me to leave Gaza…and time for revisiting the horror of Erez again! The journey back is worse because of all the crazy security checks….baggage checks, full body scans and slow movement from one locked cubicle to another! The Israelis had their piece of fun with me …it was v subtle– nothing that I can even stake a charge of harassment- but it was harassment nevertheless! And then they refused me entry into Israel (visa again)…but that was quickly sorted by a call to UN. If it was illegal then WHY would they allow a person an entry illegally into their country?????

I had a day to prepare myself for Tel Aviv airport! Reached the airport and as per expectation, the Gaza stamp was seen and immediately I was pulled out for special treatment. What follows is a v v v efficient process of security checks….where EVERY piece of what u carry is taken out of the bag, displayed for a length of time infront of everyone while things are rescanned and re re scanned. Then the body check…..metal detectors, frisking….Whew….tired and sleep deprived, I finally did manage to reach the boarding gate!! -Just in time (that’s a guarantee at the airport….the length of torture depends on the amount of time you have in hand)! However, I am still impressed with the security check- this is the ONLY way to prevent terror attacks- that is if it is applied to everyone equally and not targeted on Palestinians and Aid workers.

Now am back, struggling with how to write all that I felt in a readable format!! The calm of Dublin offers the mental space to reflect back on the trip.
Gaza is a very disturbing place to go to. For me, personally, it has been more disturbing than many other places with equally horrific situations. It is not a place where one can honestly sit on the fence…..sides have to be taken and vociferously too! As I try to put a finger on what sets this situation apart, I can come up with the following….though I think there are other reasons which I am not able to put a finger on!

• In most similar situations, one atleast has some International political pressure being applied for the right to happen. In this case, this is largely missing- due to holocaust and defensive attitude of Europe, due to vested interest of US and due to ineffective (and vested interest based) support from Arab world!

• One actually feels like being squeezed and suffocated in Gaza. Locked into a small sliver of land, with no escape route…..it is like spending life a small part of Delhi and not ever being allowed to step out. Suffocation intensifies with the overwhelming and stark evidence of impact on each person’s life and your own when in Gaza. Gaza is effectively surviving only on international aid (and Israel has to pay none of it!). EVERYONE feels that they are HELPLESS to do anything about the situation! In effect, everyone feels like they are caught in a spider web!

• The Israelis…the fanatical conviction that almost all of them (and probably 95% jews) carry about the homeland …to the extent that they have started looking at Palestinians as mere objects….who should be butchered on first opportunity. The seething hatred is so obvious, overwhelming and present everywhere. Not a word and one can feel it! This I feel as a non Palestinian!!.....the scale of this hatred is something which I have not felt anywhere else, in any other situation. It scares me no end…..little kids growing up on staple of hate and knowing that its OK to be cruel to some humans!!! Israel is a country united by only one thing- their hatred for Palestine and Palestinians! What is the future of a country with so much of hatred? Will the country /religion still produce brilliant scientists – like the ones who were my idols as a kid??? Or will it produce only good fighters?? Is not a society dominated by human haters cancerous??? This feeling really chills me to the bone….because in most other places, one has fanatics but most are fence sitters or flowing with the tide…..here almost every Israeli believes in their views and each and every person (from a child upwards) has internalised a role that they need to play and that role is what they effectively play every waking moment. All this would have been excellent if it was built around a positive thought!

• Living life as a second grade citizen…as enshrined by the law, that too in a ‘developed’ country Israel. So, at best, even if one dares to seek justice as a Palestinian against an atrocity, one has to do under the aegis of laws which blatantly favour Jews (for both criminal and civil cases). To give an idea, for a road accident leading to death, the jail term will be shorter for a jew, longer for a Israeli non jew and longest for a Palestinian!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So, no accessible , just legal avenue available (emphasis: developed country context not in middle of wilderness lorded by a dictator!)

I almost feel that Israelis are doing to Palestinians what was done to them in the holocaust! Only this time, holocaust has already stretched 60+ years!
OK…I know I have rambled on for too too many pages….but hopefully, you will have the patience to go thru a sort of outpouring from my side. I apologise for not making it short and easy to read!

Disclaimer: All views expressed are my own and not of my organisation (as always)! I agree, not all Israelis are bad and neither are all Palestinians good. Finally, personally, I desperately need to meet a great Jew-fast! So please help! (and no, Ross and Monica from Friends will not do!)