Bonded Beauticians......in a gilt cage?

This morning I visited my neighbourhood beauty parlour for my routine basic beauty treatment. The pretty young 17- something who attended to me had an expression that somehow caused me concern and made me start up a chat with her. 45 minutes later, having got more than I bargained for, I left the parlour quite distressed.

She comes, as all others in that parlour do, from  the Northeast, Darjeeling to be precise. The owner is also originally from there who regularly makes trips to bring back fresh faces. The parents of these young girls are only too happy to let their daughters into her 'care' as the salary seems good, with full board thrown in, and the added security of 'staying' in her own house with other workers from the parlour. The parents are told that the girl has to work a minimum of one year, and her travel costs will be taken care of. 

Bright eyed, curious and excited to be in a big city, these girls come down and initially are quite comforted by the camaraderie, the commune- like -accommodation and the swank interiors of the parlour, which is in the same premises as their 'home'. New uniforms add to their feelings of self respect, and the fact that they can experiment with hairstyles, makeup and nail polishes is usually sufficient to get by for the first few months.

But, slowly the reality seeps in. Nobody is allowed to leave the parlour - for anything. Any shopping for personal needs is done by the 'madam' and the girls cant go out for a movie, an ice cream, a visit to the temple, or even just a day off to view this big city that they came to see from so far away.

'What!!?', I asked, 'No weekly off ?' .... No. Came the muted reply. No, never. Not allowed to go for a bhel-puri, or to buy a pair of chappals, or walk to the store to get mobile recharge! In any case, She tells me- they have no money as they are not paid, except the tips they make, probably as insurance against their escape. 365 days a year, and  unless she  has a raging fever- 9 am to 8pm at the parlour, going back to 2 rooms behind the parlour that double up as a kitchen and sleeping area, with  a TV for entertainment, if anyone has the energy at all , to watch after a back-breaking day. Classic case of bonded labour.

'Why don't you tell your madam and leave?' I ask while my blood boils at this injustice and makes me want to report the owner to the cops. Well for one, she tells me filing my nails, there is no money unless the full year is completed. And after that, the Catch - which wasn't mentioned to the parents, which is that if they leave before 2 years are completed, they have to pay her 'fees' for training them to be beauticians! So they risk losing a good chunk of their 'future dowry'. Somehow they struggle to complete their time in this jail which at least earns them something.....compared to the poverty back home, and they yearn to feel the sun on their pretty faces, or even walk freely in the parks right round the corner of the parlour. 

So, what is it that draws hundreds of such girls to leave their homes, [ many of their towns  are already growing economically at least in terms of tourism], and come so far out to a country they know nothing of- for all purposes they are 'foreigners'- used to being called 'Nepali' or 'Chinky' by a population largely ignorant of their origins; live in confinement, without time off, toiling for 11 hours each day, busy in their jobs of making their customers look beautiful, and growing pale themselves under the harsh tube lights of their prison? Is it the lucre? Is it the adventure? Is it an escape from a boring home.....

I wonder then, how different are these girls from the millions of techies who leave India to work abroad. Are their lives any better? Mind you, I am not talking here of the lucky few who manage to get their American Dream realised in a few short years, but of the majority who struggle in similar situations for decades, working 7 days a week, with no insurance, sometimes a bare status/visa, sharing a pokey apartment with several other fellow countrymen,  paying off the loans their parents took to send them off in the first place, and striving to have a semblance of a dream life [ by frequenting Dollar stores and buying cheap gifts for people back home!] What is the motivator to leave the comfort of your family, your own country [ again, I am not advocating that India is the nicest place to live in, not by a mile! ] where you are free to savour a weekend, a holiday, a few hours off to do the things that you want to do; and go thousands of miles away and be a prisoner - albeit in a gilt ed cage? 

Best R&B destination this side of the Himalayas and the trials to get there

Himalaica- 'of the Himalayas', or 'belonging to the Himalayas' is the apt title to this warm home created by two friends Mr. and Mrs. D. As their own website says, its a place to remember, a place to forget and a place to bring back the balance in your lives.

Being an amateur birdwatcher, this trip had a special excitement for me, as I was going there for the first time during summer, a time when the birds flock there aplenty. Previous trips have been in the cold winter, with too many distractions like kids, wine and parties, and less time for birds who in any case are not that easy to find in sub zero temperatures. But this time, armed with the BOOK, binocs and camera, we were all set to soak up the pleasures of watching these amazing little creatures, so lovingly created by the Almighty, so mysterious in their ways and so elusive to click.

The playground was this gorgeous, amazingly done up home full of fruit and flower trees, carefully researched and planted for the best results in terms of bird visits, a nook in the foothills of the Himalayas with terraces of plants, shrubs, bird feeders, bird baths, and perches to make the birds as  comfortable as the humans who are lucky enough to stay there. The staff, ever courteous, the larder carefully stocked, the rooms beautifully appointed, with something for everyone- Movies, music, wifi, books for all interests, and loads of spots to just do nothing but watch birds all day. The dining table on the east side of the conservatory in the mornings, the study with its large windows in the afternoon, the driveway with its many surprises, like a little pond here, a green maze there, a pomegranate tree here and a peach tree there, there is no end to spots and venues to watch different birds at different times of the day.

 There were plenty of 'walks' suggested by our hosts, a forest walk, a steep trek, a scenic view of the Himalayas, a valley walk with a gushing stream, a tranquil lake and a boat ride to see the local and visiting birds. And we religiously did all those, waking up at ridiculous times and walking more than we ever walk back home, precariously balancing the binocs and the camera, juggling between major decisions like' to click'  or 'to just view' and the target almost every time flying off just when we were about to click the buttons!!  Great exercises, lovely climes, great views, but very few birds. 

And every time we returned home , we were welcomed by the high pitched calls of umpteen birds, all hanging out in this haven created- as if, especially for them. All those birds who eluded us on our treks and walks, were sitting right there by the feeders and ponds right below our noses! Hopping from one branch to another, nesting in the hollows and frequenting the same spots day after day, giving us ample time to actually study them, and of course click them.

                                                                                                                                                    The dogs were another attraction, another story altogether. Hilldogs- fully grown in size at 5 months, but timelessly youthful and playful, these 3 bundles of joy entertained us 24 x 7, with their antics, going for everything in sight from socks to wooden steps, to digging up the garden and to jumping on me-totally unmindful of the hot tea cup in my hands!! 

The only cloud on this otherwise beautiful scenario was the mandatory stop over at New Delhi. It may boast a lot about its cleanliness, its infrastructure and the wide roads, but for someone who has lived in Mumbai and Hyderabad, it comes up real short on most lists. From an  arrival at terminal 1-D which is no patch on Hyderabad's fine airport, to the total lack of infrastructure at the newly formed Anand Vihar Terminus- with no prepaid taxis, and a fair share of conmen and a climate that will make you instantly forget the holiday you've just had.
                                                                                                                              

 Thankfully, a dear friend salvaged the day by suggesting a early morning trip to the Okhla Bird Sanctuary which was just a hop away from his home. Delhi regained its charm in those two hours spent in a small patch of green in a city of concrete, replete with birds of all types, from Whistling Ducks to Stonechats to Bitterns to Kingfishers, we saw it all! This is all thanks to ongoing efforts by a select group of people who have fought to save this patch from being taken over for modernisation and expressways.

Makes us want to visit again, and again. 

Refreshing customer service, for once!

Of late I have become rather fond of the famous breakfast cereal, now packaged with a tasty- ready- to eat-  formula, which transforms a rather tiresome cereal into something to actually look forward to! Of all the variants that have entered the market, I particularly favour the Pepper and Spice flavour, largely due to the presence of several real pieces of pepper and also cashews, which add  zing and crunch to my bowl of goodness at least once a week.

So, it was with with some surprise and concern that I found this morning's bowl MINUS the two most important ingredients - Pepper and Cashews!! Having stirred it up myself, I couldn't put the blame on anyone for picking them out or leaving them in the pan, either. The flavour, I admit was still there, but the joy of biting into a peppercorn at 8am was missing.

So, not one to keep quiet about such unfair practises, I quickly fished out the packet, which thanks to our system of separating garbage, was still intact and not lost under a mound of fruit peel and tea leaves.
I quickly shot off an email to the address written at the back of the package, along with batch number, manufacture date etc etc, with a lament about the missing ingredients.

And forgot all about it. As an Indian, having been repeatedly cheated, and now quite used to substandard stuff, I was quite sure that was the last I would ever hear of this matter. And went off to work. So, imagine my surprise when I first get a mail from the said Customer Service asking for my contact number, and having provided that, an actual CALL from them a few hours later!!

A very cultured voice; not your usual call centre voice which mispronounces your name  after trying to speak in two other languages before hitting on the correct one; speaks to me very politely. Checks on the story and expresses adequate surprise that something like this could have passed their very 'stringent' quality checks, and thanks me for caring enough to write in.

All in all a very satisfactory conversation, which left me quite happy that there are some large companies that are still bothered about their customers and the feedback they receive. Though I am not expecting a years supply of that awesome flavour in the mailbox, anytime soon.:)

No dignity for a final journey, yet?

They say India is the land of million Gods, a land which firmly believes in the passing of one's soul into the body of another, in reincarnation and reaching a heavenly abode, and in strictly following the rituals which will ultimately lead to this heaven.

Sadly, the journey that a person has to take to supposedly get 'there' is anything but heavenly. The ignominy of going through this process is sufficient to turn any person into an aetheist. I accompanied my friend to the 'holy river' Godavari located at Basara, near Nizamabad, to immerse his recently departed mother's remains. What was a very pleasant drive on 200 kilometres of beautifully paved highway, turned into a mind boggling horror show once we reached  the venue.

The Godavari at this point is almost dry, with  a little water that barely flows. The 'ghat' that has been prepared for these final rites is large, spacious, with all facilities like bathrooms, eateries and religious touts offering their services for a fee. The procedure that most follow is to wear bare minimum clothes, board a small row boat, and approach the centre of this little rivulet where the water is deep enough to unload the urn with the remains, drop into the water and take a dip, and quickly row back again.

The reality hits as one approaches the ghat. The entire bank of the river  -all the way from the ghat till the eye can see is covered with mounds of washed up cloths, urns, coconut shells and god-knows-what-else. Its worse than a landfill. And those at least get regulated from time to time. Not this. Not for years.

Whats visible of the river is dotted with hundreds of sons and husbands waiting to perform this final rite for their loved ones, trying to desperately shake the remains into a shallow, almost waterless river. Men and some women too, trying to take a dip in hardly 2 feet deep water that is filthy and brown. Two vultures circling around the banks looking for titbits. 

The souls of the departed must be revolted at this indignity of being jostled for space in a rite that should be clean, calm, and pure, and give a sense of closure to the bereaved. 

At the top of the ghat the scene becomes almost eerie and bizarre. Families who have accompanied the remains are milling around the eateries, with kids- in- arms, women in shiny polyester  clothes, beggars vying with each other for a good 'donation',  toy shops announcing their deals,  vendors making a quick buck; all this in a touristy, almost water-park like atmosphere, which is so far removed from whats happening down below at the river bed, that its difficult to believe its all at the same place where the dead are being given a final farewell.

Why can we not make the slightest effort to improve the quality of these places? Why can we not prevent cloths and other materials from being dumped into the river- even if the ' poojaris have instructed us so'? Why can the number of people going into the river not be regulated, and non-essential people like babies and hangers on be prevented from crowding the river? Why can the 'powers that be' not even be bothered to look into this? This apparently is the same story at every 'ghat' in the country with no respite in sight. Thousands of people dying every day, god rest their souls, having to suffer this due to our lack of sensitvity.

Is it necessary to mingle with the remains of others in order to reach heaven or even the next life? Not me, certainly not. I am going to become fertilizer in my garden. 

Of hurled coconuts and other missiles

I have to thank Sparky for allowing me some venting space here. He is a good boy, my spark! He knows when to give me some leeway and here is the perfect spot to rave!

Last week, as is the norm, I was walking around the neighbourhood park, briskly and with  music blaring in my ears. This habit of walking fast and stuffing my ears with earphones has two advantages: One -it helps to make my otherwise boring and oh-I-cant-wait-to-get-home walk [ I assure you I do it only because my good doctor has ordered it.] And two- it discourages anyone from walking beside me and chatting up with me, something I detest even more than the walk itself.

Anyway, so here I was walking my regulated 5000 steps and I happened to spot a car entering the new building on our block. The lane being too narrow, I had to slow down to let the car take its arduous turn into the building, and at that same moment, two things happened. Two women who I know reasonably well, also approached and attempted to pass me, and as they did, a large coconut came hurling out of the back window of the car as it entered the building and ALMOST landed on my friend's head, missing it by mere milliimetres.

Needless to say, this made my blood boil. Shaking my earplugs off, I called back to my friends who were stunned but had decided to continue on their walk, and I marched upto the gate and yelled for the young lady who had alighted from that car. Seeing me yell and wave my hands she gingerly approached me, guilt written large on her face, but determined to get away with her mindless actions. This is how the short interaction went:

 " Hey, dont you have a garbage can in your building or flat? Why did you chuck the coconut out of the car ?" 
Her lame reply- " I am sorry aunty, but its bio-degradable, na?"
" What do you mean? Cant you see that it almost hit us on the head? And just 'cos its bio-degradable, does that allow you to litter the streets?"

At this moment , a man who seemed to be her father appeared, and realising that the girl was getting deeper and deeper into it, had the good sense to apologise. 
" I am sorry, it wont happen again" and started leading her back into the building. 
" Educated people like you should not be doing this." I had to get my last salvo in, of course! They both turned to me briefly, smiled weekly, and walked away. Till the next time she decides to chuck missiles out of her windows.

This unfortunately, is how most of us so-called- educated Indians behave. I am hoping that my daughter's generation will be more mindful of littering, garbage, and other burning issues, simply because their study books have chapters and chapters on protecting the environment. So they have to read, understand and reproduce the stuff in their exams.

 Because left to my generation, there's no hope, really of any progress.

And while on the subject of missiles, I have to admit to the absolute despondency I feel when I see people throwing stones at dogs. You all see it everywhere around you, and it never stops.  Its happened twice in the last 2 days that I've had to stop, reprimand and teach a 10 year old boy and a grown man the ills of stoning a dog, and the alternate ways to get a dog off your back. The boy had the grace to look embarrassed and promised he would never do it again, but the man was unrepentant and believed that it was the only way to prevent the dog from entering his building compound!  What pleasure does this simple yet maliciously vicious act gives people, I will never ever understand.

Time to combine resources

Yawwwn. Hey gals and guys! Looks like the new year has passed me by and I've just been too busy in my own thoughts to notice, leave alone make the effort to send out good wishes to all of you.

I see its been a rather long time since my last post. Well, you see its not entirely my fault. Mom was just too busy to give me the time of day, as she was running helter-skelter with her big musical play. She tells me there were 50 children to direct and loads of other stuff called- Rehearsals, Recordings, Costumes, Props, and so on..which basically meant to me "NO TIME". 

We hardly saw her those few months. Then after the show she said she was too tired and needed her brain cells recharged, during which time there also was a lot of yelling and scolding Ria to open her books and sit on the bed or desk. She called it EXAM time, and then they packed bags and went away.

It seems to me that all is normal, as Mom is walking me several times, feeding me and playing with me too. I just hope it stays this way.

I overheard them talking about pooling resources the other day. Saving and conserving for a better tomorrow. I mean, I see it around me with the collection of plastics and paper, or taking one car instead of two, and switching on one ac instead of two, and so on.Reduce, Re-use and Recycle- is Ria's mantra these days. And Mom has so many things to say, [ have you heard her on the phone?] , so I have decided to do my share of saving and conserving and have offered to lend her my page to write down what she wants whenever she wants. Cant think of any other way that I can directly help their efforts, so blog-pooling is what we are going to do! I will be around, but summers are real difficult for me to get off my bed so do'nt count on me for your regular laughs. Though I am sure Mom will keep you happy too. 

You will know when I am back, till then enjoy your 'mangoes'