Gunner

Question: Why was there a man with a machine gun in my office today?

Answer. Dunno, really. 

The hawkers of Lajpat Market

Most street markets have a large number of hawkers walking around selling specialty goods, but I was particularly impressed with the array at the Lajpat Market (known in Delhi as the best place to get cheap Indian-style clothing and henna painted on your hands). In addition to the fellows pictured below there were people walking around selling pens, sunglasses, flowers, jewelry, etc.

 

[Vendor selling flowers made from corn-husks]

 

[Pirated movies vendor]

 [Jewelry lane]

 [Vendor selling peacock fans and feathers]

 [Tank-top vendor]

 [Toy and baby's mobile vendor]

 [Apron vendor]

 [Rug vendor, Bag vendor]

[Sock vendor]

Seen in Delhi: Sad Clown

 

Barbeque Nation: Grilled meats and dancing waiters

India is the best country in the world to be a vegetarian because a large portion of the populace doesn't eat meat and restaurants are geared accordingly. Although I'm not a vegetarian I eat very little meat here because the veggie dishes are so tasty and I'm pretty suspicious of Indian meats if not cooked in a pristine setting. Having said that, every now and then a girl just gets a carnivorous hankering and last weekend, to satisfy mine, I went to Barbeque Nation with some colleagues.

Oh man, I had no idea what I was in for! My friends mentioned to me it was a three course meal but I somehow forgot about the other two courses once the waiters started bringing out the grilled meats. And the grilled veggies. And the grilled anything-you-can-put-on-a-skewer. Plus there were all of these sauces you could brush onto your grilled meats! Plus the waiters kept coming around with other kinds of tandoori meats which didn't fit on a skewer!

Having not eaten meat in quite a while I pretty much stuffed my face and had just loosened the belt a notch and was settling in to enjoy my well-deserved food coma when my friend was like "So, are we all done with the starter course and ready to move on to the mains?" I was all "Whaa?"

The main course, of course, consisted in a delicious all-you-can-eat buffet. I was obviously not at all hungry, but when someone points me at a tasty pot of butter chicken or korma mutton, who am I to say no? I'm sorry people, but I just don't have that kind of will power.

Now, halfway through the entree the lights suddenly darkened in the restaurant and out marched a grouping of waiters and chefs, led by the fully-suited manager of the restaurant. Bollywood music started blasting and, the assorted ensemble broke out into a perfectly choreographed performance.

Ok, as a dancer myself I can tell you that in a class of about an hour and a half, a trained dancer can probably learn about 30 seconds of choreography. These guys went on for the full length of the song (about 4 minutes) and were good. They seemed to be really enjoying themselves too--especially this one waiter in yellow near the back. (I was like "Get that man a ticket to Bollywood!") Afterwards we called our waiter over and asked him how they learned the choreography--he said they just liked to practice in breaks.

Well, color me impressed.

So, between the delicious meats and buffet and dancing it was a pretty awesome meal. But, I must admit that the deserts left something to be desired--as did the very bizarrely colored mocktails, which you can see below in the three flavors offered: strawberry, lychee, and opium seed. (Yep, the opium seed (green) one was mine. And, ew.)

Still, for a $10 meal, I was suitable dined and entertained. Yes, Barbeque Nation--I'll be back!

Photos from a tourist store

I admit it, I'm a total sucker for those touristy-stores that sell Indian handicrafts and other chotskies. But can you blame me? 

Casual sexism in Delhi

 

I didn't read the interview, so I guess there's a chance this is tongue in cheek? It's pretty amazing that's on the front page of the Delhi Times, though.

Q&A time

Questions which have passed through my head within the last week--and their answers. 

Question: Why do autorickshaw drivers feel the need to play chicken with much larger cars and trucks?

Answer: Because they're high or drunk. (I've been in at least two autos where the drivers are smoking up while driving. I mean, come on!)

Question: Why do almost all Indian women have long hair?

Answer: So they can toss it alluringly, given the constant presence of wind-machines (er, indoor fans).

Question: Why are there displays of fireworks on random nights?

Answer: Weddings. It's for the weddings.

Question: Why are all of my formerly light-colored T-shirts now magenta?

Answer: Because I was foolish enough to think I'd gotten all of the die out of my new pair of harem-style pants after only two times through the washing machine.

Question: Why are the Bollywood women, on average, so much better looking than the Bollywood men?

 [This is Shahrukh Khan, one of Bollywood's most famous leading men.  No. Sorry, but no]

Answer: Because the Bollywood women need to sleep their way into roles whereas the Bollywood men all seem to be the nephew of someone famous? (Note, answer based solely on the information obtained from today's tabloid).

Question: Why do Indians love cricket?

Answer: No idea. Really, I have no idea. It seems like the most boring game ever.

Jantar Mantar

I went to visit an old astronomy lab the other day (circa 1724), though it may not be exactly what you're imagining.

 Each one of these building is itself an instrument to measure the celestial bodies--I think the stairway to heaven is an enormous sun dial type thing. I have no idea how the building which resembles the mini Roman Colosseum or the one that looks like an abstract heart design works--Wikipedia has failed me almost as thoroughly as the on-site plaques did.

It was a pretty cool monument to just find in the middle of the city and I particularly enjoyed my visit because, after flashing my local tax payer's ID card the ticket guy actually let me enter on the local's rate (a whopping 5 rupees, or USD $0.08). I am technically supposed to get the local's rate any time I flash my tax payer's ID at a tourist site, but so far people have taken one look at the blond curls and pretty much laughed in my face.

So, huzzah for interesting and cheap tourist sites which are easily accessible by metro!

Colleagues

This is what a group of Indian lawyers looks like, right before they head to court.  

I get on really well with my colleagues--it is quite a young office so we all sit around together at lunch and gossip. In fact, at 32 I would venture to say that, other than my boss, I could be the oldest attorney in the office. Partially I suspect this is because it would be difficult to support a family on the NGO salary so older folks may seek out higher-paying gigs and partially I think it's because my office attracts young lawyers who wish to gain substantial litigation experience quickly. I only work closely with two attorneys so I really can't comment on the quality of my colleagues' work product, but have been generally impressed by the intelligence and commitment on display during lunch time conversations.

It may also be worth noting (and as demonstrated in the above photo) that my office is overwhelmingly female. In my department--which is not the women's rights department, by the way--we have two male associates and eleven female associates, plus one female intern. I think one of the men is married and I know that my American colleague lives with his girlfriend, but to my knowledge (though, I could be wrong) none of the other associates is in a relationship, excepting me, of course. As most of the associates are in their mid-to-late twenties perhaps this wouldn't be so unusual in the USA, but I think it is an anomaly for India as most Indians tend to get married younger.

Of course, I suspect the smart, educated and passionate folks in my office do not follow many trends in patriarchal India. Generally, they're a pretty awesome set--who just happen to look like legal rockstars in their ready-for-court gear. Don't you agree?

Linguistic differences

An excerpt from the conversation I just had when I called a high end spa to book an appointment (I'd received a gift certificate for my birthday):

Receptionist: Ok, tomorrow at 5:30pm. Is there any particular therapist you'd like?
Kate: No, I don't mind. But I'd prefer a female therapist.
Receptionist: I'm afraid Tina has left us, is there someone else you'd like?
Kate: Any female therapist will do.
Receptionist. Ma'am, as I've just told you, Tina no longer works for us.
Kate: I'm not asking for Tina specifically, I'd just like a female masseuse. Ffffeeemale. Not Tina. Female.
Receptionist: Tina's not here.
Kate: Yes, I understand that Tina has left. I'm asking for a female therapist. A woman therapist. Any woman therapist.
Receptionist: Annie? Unfortunately Annie is not working tomorrow.
Kate: That's ok. I just need any female therapist. Not "Annie". Eeeeehny. Any. Woman. Therapist.
Receptionist: Neither Tina nor Annie is available.
Kate: Ok. Sigh. Just book me with whichever therapist is available.

Sometimes little things like accents differences can make a simple exchange difficult. It will be interesting to see if my masseuse tomorrow ends up being a dude!

Cheating

I'm considering cheating on my chaiwallah.
 
Now, this doesn't have anything to do with my feelings towards Deet; as faithful readers of this blog will know I adore the man--what with his Buffy the Vampire Slayer wardrobe and dashing monkey-fighting ways.  It doesn't even have anything to do with his chai--I maintain that Deet mixes as tasty a cup of spiced tea as I've had in Delhi. He also faithfully brings it to my desk three times a day--instinctively at the exact moment I'm craving something hot and sweet.

But sometimes a girl just needs variety, you know? And there's this guy . . .

He sits just outside the office every day with nothing but a stray dog and his kettle of steaming chai for company. (Ok, I guess sometimes he does have some actual friends with him for company). His chai smells so good that my mouth waters every time I walk by. And I know he's noticed me, noticing him. Noticing his chai.

I just want to taste it, you know? Just once. Just to see.

But, I can't bring myself to do it. I mean, he's literally right outside of the office. What if Deet sees me ordering chai from someone else? In fact, just the other day, as I was standing across from the street chaiwallah, trying to subtly ascertain how one orders street chai, Deet came to the front door and saw me watching the street chaiwallah, practically drooling. At first Deet's brows furrowed a bit, but then he broke out into his usual grin as if to say "What have I to worry about? Surely Kate would never leave the delicious, reliable chai I brew her for the vagaries of a street chaiwallah?"

I felt ashamed and rushed into the office. I could barely look at Deet when he handed me my afternoon chai. He's right, you know? Street chai could be dangerous--who knows what kind of water is used.

But I just can't stop thinking about tasting the street chai. And one of these days I fear that my chai-lust might override my better sense . . .

Clubbing with the college kids

My roommate emailed me this picture of me, which he stumbled across on the promotional site for a club.  To the trained eye, I look fairly discontent in that photo--it is not my usual state to be standing around when others are dancing. To the untrained eye, though, I guess I just look like a moody woman in red lipstick--and who doesn't want that at a party!

Here's the story behind why I was standing in a corner looking anxious that night. I was hanging out with two friends when one of them suggested meeting up with a friend of hers who was only in Delhi for one night. What we didn't know was that this friend was in Delhi for one night only as the babysitter coordinator, of a college study abroad program. So when we met up with my friend's friend there were about 15 twenty year-olds tagging along.

Holy crap.

Let me tell you, there is nothing that will make you feel older than hanging around with a bunch of college kids (Sorry Daisy-O, but it's true). There is also nothing that will make you feel more on edge than chaperoning a group of young-uns through the dark underworld that is Delhi night-life. (And let the record show that this was the night of one of the more touted World Cup games, so all I really wanted to do was find a quiet TV with English commentary. But that was not to be). 

 

Three things kept running through my head. (1) Dear lord, I hope no one gets groped. (2)  I wonder what the score to the match is right now. (3) This would never happen to me on a night out in NYC.

The third thought, of course, is the good and bad thing about living abroad and having to build a social network from scratch.  You get forced to do a lot of things that you really wouldn't in the course of your normal comfortable and well-tailored social outings; this includes both wacky cool experiences you wouldn't have thought of (Why yes! I do want to go to a meditation and organic foods class!) and shit you normally wouldn't put up with (see above).

Though, anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm really not good at putting up with shit that I normally don't put up with. And truth be told, I spent the vast majority of that night cranky and trying not to take responsibility for the swarm of students--that is when I wasn't anxiously scanning the room to make sure no one was being manhandled in a corner. 

But, I guess I did get my dance on eventually as well--so the evening was not totally lost.

 

 

The Price is Right: Delhi edition

Let's play an approximation of my favorite gameshow: "The Price is Right".  See if you can guess the amount spent for each of the items below:
1. Beaded necklace.

Answer: US $0.80

2. Marble box with inlaid semi-precious stones

Answer: US $7.25

3. AAA Battery

Answer: US $0.16

4. Twisted wire necklace and earring set

Answer: US $2.40

5. Cotton printed scarf

Answer: US $0.80

Yup, Delhi really is that cheap.* I love it!

*Some bargaining skills required.

Random Delhi art

Seen out and about: 

Large-eyed ladies beautifying (subway art):

A very excited (ahem) demon god

 

Guardians of the gate

 Dude rocking some amazing facial hair

Hi tech/low tech

I thought you all might enjoy the juxtaposition as much as I did.

Gender violence in Delhi

WARNING, THIS POST IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

The truth is I've had a fairly light and easy time of it in Delhi so far. I've managed to make friends and build a vibrant social life quickly, I have a lovely living situation, a job that I generally enjoy and fun exploring the city. I haven't even gotten Delhi belly yet (which my friends tell me is a miracle!). I think my blog generally reflects the ease and comfort with which I've settled into this city, but I worry sometimes that it gives an inaccurate portrayal of all of the very real ills that attend life here.

Before coming to India, I was really nervous about a triumverate of horrors I had heard about Delhi: the pollution, the poverty, and the gender violence.  Those three things are a very real part of living here, and today I want to discuss the way living in a city renowned for violence against women has affected me, personally. (I'll deal with pollution and poverty in a later post).

I generally feel pretty safe when I'm roaming around Delhi during the daytime, because there are always tons of people out and about (though, as one Indian friend told me, "Yes, but if anything happens to you no one will help. No one wants to get involved, remember?") However, although I might instinctually feel safe on the daytime streets of Delhi, I intellectually know that the city is far from safe for any woman, be she young or old, Indian or foreign, rich or poor (though, let's be honest. The city is far more dangerous for indigent women).  As proof of this, I need only show you the headlines from the newspaper today:

Now, admittedly it's not often that the paper has four rape-related cases on the front two pages (with victims spanning from 5 to 81 years of age), but nearly every day there is a new case reported on. Other ones just from this week that I remember include a 7 year-old girl who was lured into the park by her 14 year-old and 9 year-old neighbor, who both then raped her unconscious (a 9 year-old boy rapist!), and a 19 year old girl who was pulled into a van by 3 men, who deposited her several hours later on a hospital doorstep, hog tied, bleeding and with a glass bottle inserted in her vagina.

So gender violence is a real, and very scary part of Delhi. And unlike in several other countries where I have lived or visited, my foreign status (more to the point, my white skin) doesn't offer me any protection here--for better or for worse.  I believe that misogyny is so entrenched in certain parts of Indian culture that women are seen as possessions and completely disposable. This is not to say of course, that there aren't loads of Indians who value women as individuals and abhor all such violence--of course there are. In fact, I have no doubt that the vast majority of Indians are completely repulsed by the headlines above.

But that doesn't change the fact that I'm asked for my father's name on every official form that I sign, that the vast majority of Bollywood movies depict women as either saucy playthings for men or submissive, dutiful wives and daughters (or the new fan-favorite, saucy but dutiful wives and daughters), that a top politician in the neighboring state remarked "Well, boys will be boys" when responding to a journalists' query about two accused rapists, or that the waiter/shop vendor/autowallah guy will almost always address the man in my group (even if I'm the one standing there with my wallet out, ready to pay). I think gender violence is just the inevitable consequence of a deeply sexist society. A society which I do believe is changing, but a society which still has a long, long way to go. 

Here's what does offer me a modicum of protection here: money (so I can call a hopefully reputable cab service to take me home at night); a bit of forward thinking (if I don't have a way to get home easily, I don't go); various extreme forms of precaution (I never have autowallahs drop me in front of my house since I'd prefer they don't know where I live); staying in safer areas of the city; restricting my movements during the night; not having that much interaction with Indian men.

That last one is what kills me. Because most (though by no means all) rape is perpetrated by people known to the victim, I purposefully limit my interaction with most Indian men, whether they be the security guard on my corner, my coworkers or would-be friends. This is total racial-profiling on my part--I don't feel the same need to keep my distance from non-Indian men ("non-Indian men" here, by the way, includes men of Indian decent who were raised outside of India--so maybe it's not so much racially-profiling so much as nationally-profiling).

I do, of course, have some male Indian friends here--most of whom spent a substantial amount of time studying in the US or Europe. However, I'm extremely reticent to put myself in their care, e.g.,  being driven home at night. These are, of course, for all intents and purposes, non-sexist, kind and gentle men who simply happen to have grown up in India. It's totally unfair to them.

That's the problem with misogyny, isn't it? It hurts women (and perhaps LBGT persons) the worst, but it hurts men as well.

Be that as it may, in any way I can, I'm attempting to reduce risk factors.

By the way, I initially typed that sentence above as "Be that as it may, I'm not taking any chances".  However, that language made it sound as if I could somehow protect against all risk of gender violence by not taking chances (the implication being, of course, that only women who do take changes are made victims).  This is of course totally untrue--the pervasiveness of gender violence in Delhi means that all women who live in this city are at risk. So far I've encountered nothing that has threatened my personal safety--a trend I would very much like to see continue.

And in the meantime, I cross my fingers, come home early in expensive cabs, and carry pepper spray, everywhere.