Witnessing for Sri Sathya Sai Baba

One of the engineers at work is married to a woman whose father is a member of the upper house in the Karnataka state legislature.  His name is Veda.  He asked us if we would like to tour the capital building.  It sounded like an interesting afternoon.  He invited me and my colleague, Dan, who I have discussed in an earlier post.  The tour happened on a Saturday,  started at 11:30 and included lunch after the tour.  In the states we have the old joke, "let's do lunch and I'll have my people call your people." 

Here in India the conversation goes like this:

"Not to worry, I'll call your driver when you leave your flat and tell him where to take you."  This is an Indian correlary to "my people will call your people."  It works great since I have no idea where anything is and directions are given according to landmarks I have never heard of.  I got in the car,  Veda called Nagaraj and away we went; directly to the appointed place.

The tour was fascinating.  The building is beautiful inside.  It is designed in a charming way for the Bangalore climate.  All the corridors are external and open.  They are wide and grand.  Appointed with lots of native stone.  All of the woodwork is done in either rosewood or teak.  There are two buildings.  One tends more white and the other is more yellow.  The stone for both buildings was quarried locally but obvisously different veins of rock.  The yellower one is the oldest and is the one we toured.  A former state governor took on the project when he was in office.  The labor used was convict labor.  The building was completed in some very short period of time.  Four years I seem to remember being told.  

Veda's father-in-law, the big guy, was not there.  He was indisposed.  We were accompanied by a personal secretary or assistant to the legislature.  There were various people in and out of our entourage and each had something interesting to tell us.  Dan knows a lot about the details of British government and pointed out the the upper and lower houses were decorated in the British tradition; red carpet for the upper house and green carpets for the lower house.  Each of the chambers had an elaborate  chairman's chair down front carved out of rosewood and complete with it own private entrance.  Each chamber had a gallery of course and lounges for both the majority and minority parties were provided just outside each chamber.  The lounges were complete with kitchens and comfortable furnishings.  The tour of the lower house ended in the lower house Chairman's outer office where we served tea and more interesting conversation describing various details.  Here we were joined by the lower house chairman's personal secretary.  An interesting fellow.  Very personable.  We adjourned to his ofice where we started the tour of the lower house.  The visit with him in his office was fascinating.  He witnessed to us about a holy man, a Baba, one notch above a guru, whom he followed. 

In the states when I have been witnessed to it has usually centered around some notion of Christ, a doctrine is articulated that I am supposed to affirm and the conversation is usually about why I need Christ in my life.  This was very different.  It was not about a doctrine.  It was about social justice and working for the poor.  The Baba's authenticity was established through miracles he was alledged to have performed.  He is shown here on the left. The description of this man reminded me more of a Shaman with tablespoon or two of "trickster" woven in; woven in the traditional "Joesph Campbell" sense. It was explained that this Baba was very old.  It wasn't clear how old but he had apparently inhabited several bodies as he was periodically reincarnated into a new one.  Our host had witnessed what he believed was a miracle performed by this holy man and was a devout follower as a result.  He asked me if I believed his account of the miracle.  I responded that my beliving was not the point.  I believed that he had been personally touched and that was all that mattered.  He seemed to accept my answer and that was the end of the conversation.

The other thing I have noticed about India and Asia in general is that folks seem to hold firm beliefs about the effects of cetain food items.  For example there is a widely held belief that drinking cold water will cause you to catch cold.  Eating ginger in warm weather makes you hotter.  Drinking buttermilk will cool you off.  You guessed it.  Our visit with the personal secretary ended with big glasses of room temperature buttermilk laced with salt and pepper.  I drank all of mine.  It wasn't bad.  For a brief moment I did feel refreshed.

We ended the tour with lunch at my favorite south Indian restaurant, Nagarajuna.  One of the secretaries who had been with us on the entire two and a half hour tour accompanied us.  It was the secretary, Dan, myself and Veda.  When we got to Nagarajuna it was packed.  There was a very long queue.  The secretary stood for a moment, said something to the maitre'd and motioned to us to follow him.  He marched right past the queue to a table of diners completing their meal.  We stood there until they were done and sat down.  So that's how you do it in India.  Lunch was great as always. 

What I will remember about this afternoon is the way in which I was witnessed to.  It was so very different than anything I had experienced before and certainly an unexpected result from a tour of a government building.

Wicker Chairs or Why Small Business Excels

This apartment has wonderful balconies.  They cry out for some kind of wicker grouping.  I had gotten some advice from my expat contact here in Bangalore about where to buy "cane".  I wasn't totally happy with the recomendations.  Here in India there are at least two economies.  One is easier to shop in;  it is high end; it caters to ex-pats and bagains are few and far between in this economy.  The other is a small business economy or what you might consider a "grass roots" economy.  It is harder to shop in; quality can be an issue; accountability is sometimes elusive but pricing is much better and it is too colorful to be ignored.  It is fun to shop in this economy.  There is always a lot of conversation, a lot of arm waving and considerable gaming.  I enjoy it.

Back to my expat's recomendation not quite setting with me.  Wicker in India is known as "cane".  The cane shops that were recomended were in the high end economy.  I kept thinking I should visit them but in the back of mind I was thinking $$$$.  One day my driver and I were coming back from the Jayanagara district.  We were making our way down a narrow neighborhood road when we passed a tiny shop stuffed with cane chairs.  I asked Nagaraj to remember that spot so we could return there.  He let me know this was the neighborhood where he lived and he made note of the location.  About two weeks later I got some time.  I am busier here than I thought I would be.  My days are consumed by work, commuting and evening phone calls.  Often on weekends I have some social activities or I go somewhere.  I thought I might get bored.  So far little chance of that.  I got some time and after some prompting Nagaraj remembered the location.

It was on a Saturday afternoon that we finally got to this adventure.  I had one of our expat visitors, Dan, and his friend, Natesan, coming for dinner that evening at 6:00.  We were on a schedule.  Not always a good place to be in India.  If you're not careful that is a formula for frustration.  I try not to go there.

We got to the little shop about 3:00 PM.  I picked out some chairs and we started the bargaining at 2000 INR a chair.  That's about $45.  We ended up at 1500, about $35.  In my mind the deal was sealed but my driver thought I should go for the next size larger chair.  It took me a minute to convince him I had what I wanted. 

The next step is my favorite.  Small businesses who want your business do some things you would never find in the mainstream shops.  As a final condition of the sale I told the shopkeeper, or rather I told Nagaraj and he told the shopkeeper, I would take four chairs if he could deliver them to my flat in one hour.  Another long conversation.  Hand waving.  Fast talkimg.  The shopkeeper got on his cell phone.  More conversation.  He told Nagaraj something.  OK.  But it will cost me another 400 INR ($9).  It's a deal.  In about 10 minutes a three wheel truck showed up with two guys.  They loaded the chairs and nearly beat us back to my flat.  Try that next time you buy a piece of furniture at Dillards that you want to use that night.

Visitors

Vistors are a common and a welocme occurance.  We have technical experts and functional managers and supervisors who come to establish one-on-one contact with their indo-cadres.  There is a lot of telecommunication that goes on but there is no substitute for the occassional visits.  These visits quite often establish bonds that make future communication more effective.  Each visitor gives one or more technical presentations on some aspect of our business.  As time goes on this gives our Indian engineers a better feel for the operation as a whole and a context for their contributions. Each contingent, the indo and the western, experience meaningful contact with culture and methods of interaction.  All this is indispensible. 

We also get visits from very senior leaders in Textron.  These visits always reinforce the corporation's committment to India.  In a recent visit by the number two leader in Textron he delivered a strong message about the importance, both now and in the future, of our organization in India.  Our Indian troops tend to be a little cynical about this since they have been hearing this periodically for the last five years.  The difference here is a new administration.  The senior leadership at Textron has changed and that may make a difference.  Time will tell.

One of the special treats about entertaining visitors is listening to their impressions of India and especially Bangalore.  Bangalore is a city of about 7 million folks and the requisite traffic such a throng generates.  On a recent visit by our IT folks one of them described driving in Bangalore as "a martial art." 

He went on to say, "It's not at uncommon to have someone overtake you on the right and make a left hand turn immediately in front of you." 

"No one gets angry and it's as if the overtaken driver bows with clasped hands , 'another day my friend',"

Our most recent visitor was Dan'l Kalal who runs Fatigue and Damage Tolerance.  Dan'l is a motorcyle rider.  Not a Hells Angles type.  No.  A genuine touring rider.  Dan'l wouldn't touch a Harley with a barge pole.  He's a serious solo rider who has toured all of the continental US, much of Europe, New Zeland and Austrailia.  This is Dan'l's friend, Natesan.  Actually we are all friends with Natesan.  He worked at Cessna in Dan'l's organization for 15 years or more.  He now works for Airbus in Wichita.  Natesan is from Bangalore.  He grew up here and his parents live in the south part of the city.  Nate was visiting when Dan'l came last week.  He came over to my flat and we went to the airport to pick Dan'l up.  His flight arrived at 0015 hrs last saturday.  Nate and I showed up at the airport about 1130.  Bangalore has a new airport.  In way that's a shame.  The old airport went a long way in preparing the visitor for what lay ahead in Bangalore.  Bedlam; or at least it always seemed that way.  It was actually the classical indo-bedlam.  Bedlam that seemed impossible until you experienced it for awhile.  At some point an informal system complete with rules emerges and then the bedlam seems manageable.  The old airport was always solid people wherever you walked. 

There was no apparent parking and the traffic outside was solid no matter the time of day.  Solid in density and solid in the sense that every type of conveyance could be seen.  By those standards, the new airport is a disappointment.  It's not that different than DFW.  It's a lot better than Ohare in Chicago but not quite as modern feeling as Denver.  Althought it likely has a better baggage handling facility.  The new Bangalore airport is not crowded.  It's a lot bigger.  It's much cleaner and easier to move around in.  Nate and I took up our posts outside the customs exit and watched people.  Anyone who likes to watch people will like India.  You can amuse yourself for hours sitting in a streetside cafe and simply observing the goingson.

The picture a top of this post is taken at the exit from the customs area.  This is where most people wait to greet their visitors.  The process from landing to exit into the terminal for greeting can take as long as one hour.  There are several customs clearance stations.  When Pravin and I landed it took extra time because Indian customs wanted collect duty on my camera gear and my personal laptop.

The special greeting area outside the customs area is crowded.  There are lots of folks holding signs, calling out and waiting for their visitors to emerge through a set of double doors.  Double doors guarded by a security officer holding an automatic weapon and looking very serious.  It never dawned on me that there was any alternative except taking my place in that crowd to wait for Dan'l to emerge.  I keep forgetting that this is India. India where queues, boundaries and rules all exist in some context.  A context that often you can define.  Just as I had forgotten this Nate walked up and said,

"Comeon, I have special passes.  We can go inside."

"How did you get these?"

"I bought 'em.  Comeon."

We marched through the throngs waving signs, milling, muttering and in general doing the waitng thing.  Nate exchanged what sounded like pleasantries in Hindi or Kanada with the serious looking, automatic weapon holding guard as he handed him some small parcels of paper.  He ushered us into the customes area where now waiting was much more civilized and out of the confusion and chaos outside.

We didn't wait long.  Dan'l's flight landed on time at 0015 and he popped out in a record 20 or so minutes at 0035 or so.  Remember I told you about Dan'l's touring escapades.  He prides himself in traveling light.  He should because he was carrying only a small backpack; everything he needed for a week's stay.  As his week here progressed I would tease him, "Isn't that the shirt you wore yesterday?"

So You Thought I Was Kiddin'

Actually I was kiddin'.  I did not roll the window down and pet him.  He looked busy.

These were taken today during a visit to Avenue Rd.  It's a short street and very crowded.  Lots of traffic, people and shops;  small shops, really small like a broom closet in some cases.  They are very specialized.  Put the whole street together and you have a Mad Magazine edition devoted to WalMart.  I was looking for a paper cutter.  I found one in a small shop that was just opening.  I waited patiently while the shop keeper went through his opening ritual.  It involved wetting his hands from a water bottle and blessing each of about eight pictures with what looked like the sign of the cross.  When he finished and waited on me he wouldn't bargin so I left the shop.  After I left I thought to myself,

"He was only asking about $13 USD.  What was the problem?" 

I may go back and get it.  But I have this thing about prices being jacked up on expats.  Besides who ever heard of a shop in India where they wouldn't bargin?  I don't know, it just struck me the wrong way but I did have second thoughts as I walked away.

These are some shots I took along the way.

OK, What is This?

My Saturday had been thrown off by the furniture delivery from the craftsman with flaming hands.  I had not expected him but was glad he showed up.  I adjusted my plans.  I was going to visit a teak warehouse on Saturday after the photo shoot to look at some dining chairs.  I had visited their showroom which is right here in my neighborhood and they had suggested I visit their warehouse.  I liked their things so I adjusted my weekend and visited the warehouse on Sunday.  Nagaraj came about 1:00.  He looked at the address and called on their phone to get directions and we headed out.  This is a city of seven million.  Any excursion is an adventure.  I can't describe the traffic.  Well I take that back.  I have tried in earlier posts but doubt I have done it justice.  It's a cacophony of sights and sounds.  I could literally shake hands with people in traffic.  I could reach out and pet the oxen pulling the cart next ot us in traffic.  Here I am an ex-pat, the only occupant in the back seat of a brand new Toyota Corolla, looking out on five people on a motor scooter or two adults and four children and packages stuffed into an auto rick.  There are times when I feel guilty, maybe a little too far above the fray.  I sink down in my seat and pull my hat over my eyes and the feeling goes away.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, we were on airport road.  One stretch was lined with fruit vendors.  There must have been a dozen or more and they were all selling the same thing.  The thing pictured above. 

 "Nagaraj, what is that?" 

 "We will stop on the way back and get some, sir."

We pressed on.  We found the warehouse.  I did see some teak chairs I liked.  I was able to barter the price down about 25% but I am still thinking.  No, it's not my feminine side.

We headed back up airport road to the block of the strange fruit vendors.  Nagaraj slowed down and eyed about a half a dozen of the vendors until he picked one.  He picked the one with the most people around it.  It was run by an old lady.  She had the fruit spread out on a burlap bag on the ground.  There was a lot of conversation in Hindi or Kanada.  Parts of it sounded like an argument.  It went on and on while Nagaraj inpspected much of what she was offering.  She seemed to protest and they finally settled on a bag of about a half dozen for about $0.45. 

Fruit of the cashew tree.  Cashew fruit.  I did not know that.  Nagaraj tried to explain where the actual nut fit in this picture but I didn't quite get it.  We each ate one.  They have a very unusual taste; a little sour and somewhat acidy.  I felt like somewhere in the background of the taste was a cashew nut.  If you have ever eaten a pecan that isn't ripe you have felt that strong astringent sensation in your mouth.  There was a sensation that reminded me of a green nut like that and it made my throat sort of burn but not exactly in a bad way.  The texture was somewhat like a very juicy apple.  The next morning my housekeeper, Silvia, cut one up in my oatmeal.  It was a more pleasing experience served in this way.  Who knew?

Furnishing My Flat

This is my friend Vish and his two sons, Garnesh and Nadesh.  I think I mentioned this in an earlier post but I met Vish when I was registering with the police commissioner as all foreigners are required to do.  At the Foreign Regional Registration Office (FRRO) no less.  He is a doctor who practiced in the Carribean for a number of years.  His kids lived in California and are American citizens.  He has returned to Bangalore and had to register his kids.  He has helped me to get settled.   Saturday we went to Cubban part and had a photo shoot.  My driver, Nargaraj, was kind enough to accompany us and act as the light man.  No visit to Cubban park is complete without an encounter with panhandlers.  This woman and two others were petitioning me for $$$.  My practice is to tell them I will give them $$ if I can take there pictures.  They all seemed to agree but this woman is the only one who followed through.  The other two disappeared when they got the $$$.  I this lady hung around wanting more $$ and the picture was incidental to her.   After we finished the photo shoot we went to a Southern Indian restaurant for lunch.  After lunch we had a sweet paan and went back to my flat and processed the pictures in Photoshop.  The boys got a kick out of that and were right in there commenting on the processing.  It was a lot of fun.  Vish's boys are very well-behaved and polite.

As for acquiring furniture.  I have chosen to make it a slow process.  Slow for me at least since I am a typical male shopper; five minutes of looking and then I'll take this, this and this.  Here I am being a little more thoughtful.  I wouldn't go as far as to say my feminine side is showing but I am taking my time.

It takes time because everywhere I go the prices are higher than normal because I am an ex-pat.  I did find a shop that specializes in teak items.  There is a lot in what I call the British Campaign Style;  dark wood with brass accents.  They also have some beautiful "folk art" pieces.  I was there two weeks ago and got some things.  They wouldn't negotiate on the price but did throw in free delivery.  It took two weeks to get the items because they touched up the finishes.  They came on Friday.  They came on time I might add.  That's a shock here in India.  I am quite happy with the pieces shown below.

These things will provide storage.  There are no closets in these flats.  Two of the bedrooms have large, ugly vineered cabinets that are used for closets.  I have rented some furniture in the interim so I have a sofa, two easy chairs, a coffee table and a small dining table and four chairs.  The next thing I will focus on is a dining room table and chairs.  Because of the prices of any such items that would last for two years I have decided to explore having some things made.  One of the engineers at work, Kishore, knows a fellow who makes furniture for hotels here in Bangalore.  I have decided to give him a try.  I asked him to make me a work table and a medicine cabinet as a test case.  This was two weeks ago.  The items were to be delivered a week ago last Saturday.  No word.  Then a week later he showed up.  He was to come at 3:00 and got here at 4:30.  I'm sure it was 3:00 somewhere.  No worries though, I am getting used to that.  Kishore and Nagendra came with him.  They are the translators.  They are also close friends.  Nagendra is a former driver at GTC who has been promoted to an office job.  Both of these guys are princes.  Nagendra is very street-wise and Kishore is very caucious.  Back to their arrival; at 4:30, Nagendra, Kishore, the carpenter and three of his helpers showed up with the work table and medicine cabinet.  I couldn't have been happier with his work.  I love the work table.  It is eight feet long and has two generous drawers.  He has passed the test and his prices are much lower than I thought I would have to pay.  As a result he is now working on two twin beds, a hall table for the entry way, an entertainment table and a dining table.  There has been an unexpected benefit from this.  I showed him the campaign furniture and asked him to duplicate the style in the beds and occasional tables.  He has no problem with this so that theme will be prevalent in my flat.

In the group photo shown, Kishore is on the left and Nagendra is on the right.  Those guys are very protective of me.  I really appreciate that.  There was an explanation for the delay of one week.  It seems he was working on my table when the power went out; a common occurance here.  He thought he had blown a fuse.  He was putting a penny in the box or whatever you do in an Indian fuse box when the power suddenly came back.  Apparently it shocked him so bad that his hand caught fire and he was hospitalized for a couple days.  He did have a nasty burn on his left hand and I took back all those unkind ethnic insults I had been thinking when he was a week late.  I can't wait to see the next delivery.