marriage advertisements

Our plan for Wednesday was to see a play at Rangashankara! Unfortunately, I was so exhausted at work from our late nights and was not feeling well at all. So Jo went with Shruthi and friends and I passed out on the couch about an hour after I got home, sleeping straight through the night.

Before passing out though, Nani was reading me marriage advertisements from a Tamil magazine! They are quite the trip. 35 yr old MBA fair skinned Tamil Brahmin seeking girl, fair, MBA, good cook, Tamil Brahmin.


There are so many pages of these blurbs, all usually mentioning skin colour, caste and education level. I've heard impassioned defenses of arranged marriages while here, but it is so hard, after my Western upbringing, to believe that people find love through them.

a bevy of strange characters at the cafe for the soul

Srikanta brought me home on the bike as usual, and when I walked in the apartment, Nani was waiting! She was full of smiles and tales about Chennai and the temple opening. Although it was apparently unbearably hot down in Tamil Nadu (which I can only imagine was made worse by the silk saris and ban against showing skin), she had a great time seeing her family and participating in the religious event.

The couple responsible for the construction of the new temple (somewhere outside Chennai) had chosen a site very close to their own home. Their son was to be a priest in the temple, and apparently his wife had given up her career to dedicate her life to the family's religious cause. (Something of that sort...)

Apparently this family chose not to send their children to higher education but instead taught them from home, and the kids were proficient in many subjects, including computer science. Nani was very impressed, but I was left with the total conviction that I could not be that sort of obedient daughter-in-law.

After the chat with Nani, I took an auto to go meet Jo at our weekly Urban Solace poetry night. My driver was a pretty taciturn fellow and I for the first time found myself praying he wasn't taking me somewhere other than where I wanted to go. But after circling Ulsoor Lake (who knew, it's actually a lake!) I ended up safe and sound at Urban Solace, just in time to see Jo get out of a car!

Tonight's poetry reading was the oddest so far. Really, just strange characters. With all other tables occupied, we ended up sitting right by the door and consequentially drowned all poetry in the sound of traffic behind us. The featured poet of the night was a man from Chennai, who had traveled to Bangalore to attend the only weekly poetry reading in the country. The crowd was a little sparse, and has been since the Americans from the global school left. I think the featured poet was disappointed, but his poetry was a little lacking as well. He introduced each poem, careful to explain its significance, and often prefaced a piece saying "this one is a short poem". And it would certainly be short. Two or three lines at most, something like "The paper boats float down the river". Sentences from a 1st grade primer.

Next was an elderly man whose rhythm sounded more like conventional slam poetry, but unfortunately we could barely hear him over the traffic. I did catch one poem about a boy and a girl who used to walk down an alley on their way home and see an old man each day, who always looked at them very disapprovingly. The old man one day asked the boy what he thought he was doing with that girl. The boy looked offended and said "she's my sister" and she looked at him in horror and said "don't say such things, he's my dad". And it was cleverly written. The final poet of the night was a woman who had read before, and we couldn't hear a word she said. Overall, an underwhelming night.

After the show, the second poet came up to us and asked if we liked his poetry. He urged us multiple times to come back on a Friday to hear the live music at Urban Solace, and did not seem to understand when we told him we would be leaving India in a few days. Then, the proprietor came up to us and asked me if I would be the feature poet for the following week. I declined, and couldn't understand why he thought I would read poetry (and not Jo, for instance, who has quite the poetry background!).

In the auto on the way home, we discussed poetry and then at home, watched the OC! We're working our way through all of the disks Jo brought with her and I hope we don't run out! I don't like when we have to switch between shows, I get attached!

mosquito anti-sting stick

"They have two models, the mouse and the cobra (which you can see above in the pictures). You press the button wait until the green light goes on (heating up to 50 Celsius) then press the metallic field onto the sting and wait until the light goes off again.
The 50 Celsius are hot enough to dissolve the poison and it will reduce the itch feeling right away and it helps the healing process. That temperature might be uncomfortable while you apply it but won’t burn or harm you and it’s a small price to pay compared to the itch feeling.
I can also see that this is very helpful to people who are very sensitive to mosquito stings and besides that it also helps with wasp, hornets and horse-flies bites."

I want this! How did I not know someone had invented such a wondrous product?! It cures mosquito bites. [via]

9 may-close calls

This morning, Srikanta came a little later and I was grateful for the chance to sleep in! We had a late night yesterday, watching 500 Days of Summer on Joanna's laptop. Apparently on the ride to work we passed an accident, but I somehow didn't see it!

At work, I ordered breakfast and had mini idlis (the little rice cakes) in sambar (I'm going to stop explaining Indian food, it's not that interesting...). Anyways, it was delicious. I also ordered lunch... yum.

After lunch, Ayan gave a talk on Reverse Osmosis and how the process works. It was informative, but a little hard to follow. I wasn't the most focused today! Ayan used to live in the Netherlands, and I recently translated some of his Dutch documents for him and felt so useful! It's amazing how that language finds its way into my life in so many ways.

I worked on my report for the rest of the day, and left work earlier than expected with Srikanta. The ride back was full of close calls today, a cow darting out, a car not honking from around a corner. With a less careful driver, I would have been petrified, but Srikanta is very safe. He lent me a book called "Small is Beautiful", an explanation of economics for the ordinary man. I'm not sure what it will be like yet, but the reading is really piling up so I have to start making dents in these great books before I have to return them all!

There are so many mosquitos biting me this evening! And the power went out again. Those minor frustrations are propelling me out the door to go eat dinner with Jo at a restaurant called Grand Taj. She went there once before with a climber friend and promises it's a good one.

Update: we just got back from Grand Taj! It's literally right around the corner and we stuffed our faces. I had raita, aloo paratha and gobi manchurian AND a roti! I am so full. The waiters were completely strange...when one of them took any order from us, he leaned down really close to the table and my face, and looked at the table while I talked literally in his ear.

Then, a man came up behind me and spoke in my ear, making me jump with fright. He was asking if we wanted cold drinks after our meal. No thank you, just the bill. Talk about too close for comfort. Interestingly, there are different standards for personal space in different countries- apparently Americans are big on it, Brazilians not so much, the waiters at Grand Taj, not at all.

8 may- the best dosa

On Sunday, Joanna and I woke up at a gloriously late hour. We scrounged for breakfast (Jo had cereal with fruit, I found tasty leftovers) and plotted the day. Joanna had found some museums in the area, so we headed out.

Looking out from the auto in one spot of particularly congested traffic, we noticed the two men on the motorbike next to us had a baby goat sandwiched between them! This goat was bleating incessantly, so loudly, and it sounded like a baby child. It was actually quite unpleasant sounding, and half funny half sad! The poor kid (literally.) must have been miserable in traffic, but it was so sweet cradled in the arms of the man on the bike! What a sight.

Our first stop was the Government Museum, housing artifacts from archeological excavations around India.

http://www.cvltvre.com/mod/cvltvre_events/thumbnail.php?id=43841

It was an interesting museum, with very uninformative plaques that said things like "swords" without offering any date of discovery or information about use or civilization. I guess we're used to learning more when we look around a museum, because it confused Jo and I. It is funny how it is so much less interesting to look at a pot when you have no idea if it's from a week ago or 5000 years!

But the museum was fun. There were several artifacts from Mohenjodaro, the ancient Indus-Valley city that existed roughly around 2600 to 1900 BCE. We saw pottery, armour, a variety of evil-looking weaponry and a collection of musical instruments that included a shriveled bagpipe.

A pathway from the very red and green Government Museum building led us to Venkatappa Art Gallery.

I actually loved this gallery, although it too could have done with more information. There was a lot of art from the Mughal civilizations, and much from even earlier. Most of the pieces had as their inspiration Hindu mythology, and they called back memories of my childhood stories. I loved the embossed sculpture of Drona teaching the Pandavas archery, remembering the story about focusing on the arrow and drowning out worldly distractions. Next to this was a painting of Shakuntala, my favourite story from childhood. She married King Dushyanta, and then suffered a curse from a rishi she didn't greet properly, causing her to lose her wedding ring and have her husband forget her. A fish swallows the ring, and a fisherman finds it in the fish's belly. Bringing the ring to the king causes the king to remember his wife, and he sets off in search of her. In the forest, he meets his own son who is playing with tigers and lions, and he is impressed by the child's bravery. When he discovers it is his son, he brings him to Shakuntala for a lovely reunion.

I couldn't tell you why I loved that story so much, but I still do...

After several more statues and paintings, we wandered away in search of the Technology Musuem. Behind the Art Gallery was a vast park, where many, many people were wandering in Sunday enjoyment. It would be a great place to have a picnic! We walked up a flight of stairs to check out the High Court of Karnataka behind a gate, then back down and out of the park. At KR Circle, we asked for directions and were pointed in the direction of the Technology Museum. While the Government Museum / Arty Gallery ticket was 4 Rs per adult, the Technology Museum's fare was 20, but it was much more of a museum.

The amount of engineering knowledge to be absorbed in that building was so cool. Displays explained everything from the purpose and evolution of screws, levers and inclined planes to how complex hydropower systems worked. Higher floors tackled biotechnology, space exploration (with a wall dedicated to commemorating Kalpana Chawla) and more. It seemed like the majority of people visiting did not want to, or could not, absorb the depth of information provided. Many were children, who dashed from display to display pushing buttons to watch things move. Most families just hustled along, interested in the interactive but not in the written lectures.

It's a great family place but so, so crowded although perhaps that was because it was Sunday. Anyways, for my purposes, to read the information, it was not a great time to go. Outside, we hailed an auto to go home.

One auto driver summoned Jo to his auto, so we sat inside. He turned around and gave us a business card advertising his art exhibition. He would take us there and then home for a flat fare of 50 rupees, a great deal, he promised, because he had some stake in the art exhibition. I kept telling him we didn't want to go at that moment, and he kept insisting until finally I realized he wasn't taking us home unless we agreed to go to the exhibition first.

So we got out and found another auto. But what a great business venture! I'm sure he gets a lot of willing clients and I wish him the best, that is some perseverence.

We searched online for another place to eat and found stellar reviews for Ganesh Darshan Dosa Camp, promising the best masala dosa and coffee in Bangalore. It is located in 3rd block Jayanagar, so Jo and I walked. It's a crowded place set up kind of like Adigas, with high tables to eat standing up and windows at the back to present receipts to the cooks.

The dosa menu is somewhat innovative, with tomato dosas, Banaras dosas (with bread crumbs in the batter) and even banana dosa. I opted for the masala dosa and a coffee, interested to see how great they were. Jo got the banana dosa and ordered a rice dish, but was mistakenly given a sweet...

I stood in line for the dosas, as at least 15 people shoved their receipts simultaneously at the cooks. On a long flat stove surface behind the counter, the cook poured out some 25 dosas, preparing all of them with speed and skill.

The filter coffee, which I drank while waiting for the dosa, was absolutely fantastic! I recommend it highly to anyone who wants coffee in Bangalore. The masala dosa was thick and filling and also amazing. I liked the scene very much!

On the walk home, I nearly bought some smile  posters or a fishbowl from two very sweet kids selling on the roadside, but then an obnoxious man came up and started badgering me to buy things and I was put off. Further on, I bought a mehendi cone for fun.

At home, I had Jo experiment on me with the mehendi. It was a lot of fun and for the next two weeks I'm boasting a very attractive touch-me-not fern tattoo on my right arm (a Joanna Schneider original).

7 may- filter coffee and home massages

 In order to finish my massive report on time, I wanted to work on Saturday. On Friday, when I asked Geetha if the office would be open, she told me an employee would need to be present. Rather than Amrtha or someone else having to babysit me so that I had internet access all day long, Amrtha suggested I come to her house to work.

In the morning I said goodbye to Nani, who is off to Chennai for the temple opening. She planned to spend Saturday night at her sister Vasantha's house so they could travel together on Sunday. I hailed an auto outside the flat, and the driver, named Rafio, turned out to be another one in a long line of totally wonderful auto drivers.

He offered to bring me to work every day if I needed, telling me he lived in the complex right behind mine (the same one Azathmullah lives in). I told him I traveled with a friend, and he assured me if I ever needed a ride, he would oblige. As we got nearer to Amrtha's, we stepped off of main roads and I was less sure of where we were going but Rafio took the time to help orient us.

There is a row of similarly painted (green) apartment buildings, and I walked into three wrong complexes before finally finding Amrtha's building. It is set up as long hallways of apartments, as opposed to the square-with-a-hole-in-the-middle set up of our Jayanagar flat. The hallways are broken up by small courtyards where light filters down through a high-up screen. Floors are patterned tile, and the whole atmosphere is cool and quiet. In fact, on the street, you can barely hear traffic noises. It is a lovely, residential feel that I miss, as the Jayanagar apartment boasts a troop of rickshaws out front and a busy street.

Amrtha came out to meet me, and then we settled in her front room, me happily set up on internet and her plugging away at her law books, studying for exams. Her husband left for work, and we worked quietly for a while but eventually productivity devolved into conversation. Amrtha made chai and offered me these amazing little chocolate cake pieces...I can't remember the name but they were perfect for dipping. She also made pongal ( a rice dish ) for lunch, and I was totally amazed. It's always astounding to me that all of a sudden when Indian women set up their own home they miraculously know how to cook just as well as their mothers. Where does it come from? Is that going to happen to me? So I asked her, and she explained that her aunt is very good at giving directions with actual measurements (one cup rice, one cup dahl) as opposed to 'take your smallest child's handful, twice'.


After lunch, work was pretty much hopeless. We were both in that sort of sleepy food coma, and decided another cup of chai would help. Amrtha made herself filter coffee- I've never seen anyone make coffee the Indian way, with a four part percolator!

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi52V6Byn9-sBu558c5M0vU5YQYzM5yQIsk4vf0YoVt0QPHdZtfS1pVcou4x-Pg25jOQokKoxHIjCnZbsI9HCq-831O3l3iPKxIVv4xfxp0d2uwhRhizyOPVYsES5tV3yQQ8ncHppaa460/s320/Disassembled_South_Indian_coffee_filter2.jpg

So first, you remove the lid and umbrella (the umbrella is the funny looking thing in front), put in the coffee powder (about 2 tbsp per person) and press it down with a spoon. The two containers are set on top of each other, and the top one contains the powder. You put the umbrella back and pour the water (brought to a boil) over the umbrella, and it percolates down into the bottom container, carrying the flavour of the grounds with it. It's basically like a much more manual french press.

Amrtha told me you're not supposed to reheat the actual coffee, but just heat the milk you pour into it. It's actually fantastic coffee. I want one of these filters.

We sat at the table and talked endlessly about families and internships, India, cats and so much more. After an amazing day, I took my leave and Amrtha walked me up to the main street to hail an auto. It is very weird to me that so many auto drivers with empty autos will refuse passengers...but it's their right!


Without Nani home, Joanna and I have to get creative around dinner time. We decided to head to Jayanagar 4th block to see if we spotted an interesting restaurant. Our auto dropped us off on a random street, and the scene was totally alive! So many people and families were out, it was wonderful to see this side of Bangalore in the evening. We walked for a bit and decided to try Pizza Corner, a restaurant on the second floor of some building.

We caught up on each other's lives over (in my case, Garden Veggie) pizza that was delicious! When he brought the bill, one of the waiters handed me a business card offering his 'Jedy Butti Oil Body Massage Service'. He assured me that home and room service was available. Decidedly sketchy, but I kept the card for laughs.

As we were leaving, he explained to me once more that he was willing to come deliver his massage service in my home. Too much!

Joanna had the wonderful idea of getting ice cream, and although I thought I was full, you're never really too full for ice cream...we went to a little ice cream and juice shop and ordered Swedish Chocolate (parcel), which was three scoops of chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce poured over the top. We ordered it to go because Jo wanted to put bananas on hers!

Finding an auto back was no trouble, and we were very satisfied with our 4th block outing!

6 may-great conversation

At work today, Amrtha, Niteen, Deepak and I had a long and healthy debate about what 'Americans' were like. We were discussing mainly Indians who grow up in America and their tendency to obsess about holding on to their roots. Deepak works for the India Water Portal Team and Niteen, on Grants, used to live walking distance from my house when he worked in Houston (although we obviously didn't know it at the time).

Another topic related to 'roots' that has been coming up lately is this idea of Indian marriage and its dependable tenacity. Amrtha told me once that she believes it can do a family more harm when a husband and wife remain in an unhappy situation than when they are honest and actively seek their happiness through, perhaps, separation. It is a challenging concept and one that does not meet wide acceptance here. There seem to be a lot of passionless marriages that endure 'for the sake of the children'. But how much can it benefit a child to grow up in a household where the adults don't prioritize their own happiness?

I was reflecting today on my choice of workplace and remembered a conversation I had with my papa before making my selection. We decided I should choose the place where it seemed like I would have the best conversations with people and I totally feel like I made the right choice! I love working in a place where everyone is so young and alive and eager to poke fun of each other. 


The longer this trip goes on the less ready I am to go back. I wasn't expecting to feel like that...

So Nelson came in to office today with a copy of the Bangalore Times of India...there's a picture of Joanna and I on page three! It was taken at Urban Solace Tuesdays with the Bard although interestingly, the little blurb mentioned nothing about location nor the name of the event. It described the great conversation and lively atmosphere but no details were provided...a mystery gathering in Bangalore!

On the ride home from work, Srikanta and I drove past my flat so he could show me some local Bangalore curiousities...the first of which was the Mohammedan Block. This is how local Jayanagar residents refer to the predominantly Muslim neighborhood in front of my flat. I think I even described it in one of my earlier posts when I walked to Ashirwad Grocery with Kumar Mama. It's full of windy little streets, mutton shops, Arabic scrolling print above shops, and lots of men dressed in white with matching white taqiyahs. A taqiyah is a short, rounded cap worn to emulate Mohammed (whose companions were apparently never seen with their heads uncovered).

Srikanta had told me that there was a wall in this block graffiti'd with rather extremist slogans of the anti-American variety, and when we drove past it I tried to make out what they said. Someone had been persistently scrubbing at the writing so it was all quite blurred and I couldn't make out what exactly the message was.

Our next stop was to the Indian Institute of World Culture, a library in the Jayanagar area where Srikanta says he 'grew up'. We had spoken about this place on the bike ride because while on the subject of poetry, he mentioned that this Institute's bulletin featured a poem by Tagore on its cover. It is a public library, but also functions as a center for cultural programs, art displays and a varied array of public talks on subjects ranging from society to politics to religion. Apparently one of the buildings was inaugurated by Rohini Nilekani! It is certainly a small city. Or, more accurately, Rohini is a prominent individual.

I am slowly discovering so much in Bangalore, I want more time to explore it all! As another example, on one of the tiny streets Srikanta dips his bike through as we ride back to Jayanagar is an art gallery featuring rural artwork by local artists. I want so badly to check it out but we haven't taken the same route since and I can't for the life of me remember where it was!