Roads in Delhi are democratic: they are for everyone, anything with wheels, and all animals. This is what I have seen on major roads: trucks, buses, three-wheeled trucks and auto rickshaws, bicycles, bicycle-pulled carts, pedal rickshaws; cow and horse-drawn wagons, people riding elephants and walking with camels, cattle grazing in the median, dogs and pigs, pedestrians and cyclist going both with and and against traffic, cars doing u turns in the middle of traffic, drivers going across lanes to get a parking spot or drop off a passenger, and cars going backwards towards traffic. Jay walking thrives. Somehow, everything flows, and everyone gets to his or her destination safely.
City buses run frequently during the day. Passengers give their fare to an employee, not the driver, who takes the money, gives change, and gives the rider a ticket. Transfers are not available. I have found these bus employees to be very nice and helpful. I always ask for my stop. One time the employee got up and walked through the bus to tell me the next stop was mine. Some men have offered their seat to me when the bus is crowded. I have been the only white person riding the bus. The overwhelming majority of the passengers probably do not own cars. The bus is the least expensive transportation. I pay anywhere from five to twenty-five rupees ( ten to fifty cents) to go around Delhi. Some buses are packed with people, some are air conditioned and cost more for that luxury. A colleague told me that the bus stressed him out so much when he was a college student that he would arrive to school exhausted. His ride was two hours one way, and his bus was always jammed full of passengers.
The metro is clean, efficient and can be very crowded. The lines are not all complete yet, so many places are not accessible by metro. Security checks all bags and people before they can enter the metro area. The price varies according to where one is going, but the metro is not expensive, around twenty to thirty-five cents depending on the length of the journey; passes are available for frequent use. I do not like trips in the metro involving changing lines or trips that go into notoriously crowded areas. My first ride found me at Kashmere Gate where people were so tightly packed that the crowd moved and pushed me along. Children were crying because everyone was so squeezed in. I feared for injuries due to the metro doors closing on people. Thankfully, I got in with enough room to be away from the doors, and I got out, fighting against tightly packed people, to my destination. Since that first metro ride, I have learned the best times to go and better yet, I learned that the first car is a "Ladies Car." No men are supposed to be one it. The rationale is that we ladies deserve luxury, less hassle, and our own space. I like the Ladies Car!
Rickshaws are inexpensive, but most pedalers do not speak English. These are good for short distances. I still think of the protagonist in City of Joy every time I see a rickshaw. I have mixed feelings about using them.
Auto rickshaws are less expensive than taxis and very bumpy. Again , language for me is a problem. Some taxis are fixed price. I have been told settling on a price before is a good idea.
One thousand cars a day are sold in Delhi. I do not know if that means they are used in Delhi also. The roads are very busy, and traveling takes a lot of time. From where I live to Connaught Place. Khan Market, or other areas in the "center" of Delhi takes at least an hour. Some employees and college students travel up to two hours one way to get to their destinations.
MaryMam-India
This website is not an official U.S. Department of State website. The views and information presented are the grantee's own and do not represent the Fulbright State Program or the U.S. Department of State.
Watch out India. . . Here comes Mary!
My arrival in New Delhi was full of warmth --both the weather and the people. Dhirendra Sharma, a physics teacher at Bal Baharti Public Schools (BBPS) who has designated himself as my Unofficial Mentor (He was accepted into the Fulbright Teacher Exchange Program for the fall of 2010, but very unfortunately a match in the US was not found. The same place I was in last year. I know how profoundly disappointing that is!)
A driver took both Dhirendra and I to 14 Anandvan, Paschim Vihar, my home for the next five and a half months. Barely had the door been opened and I was greeted with a "proper Indian" welcome: red powder on my forehead and a very sweet, round ball that was scrumptious. I met Madhu, Neena, and Menaka who all live in the same society (the appartment complex of Marathi Indians). I was shown how to use the airconditioner, the television, and the stove.
The next morning Madhu stopped by on her way to work to see how I was doing, my neighbor Shweeta came over to meet me and invite me to go out on Sunday to buy Indian clothes, and then I had lunch at Neena's. Kunda, Rashmi's sister had a mobile phone and international calling card delivered to me, and that night Madhu walked to the market, Reliance, with me so I knew how to get there. At the door security takes bags and checks receipts before leaving.
Sunday the 15th of August was Independence Day. The society had a celebration in the morning with the National Anthem, dances, and snacks. I met more people in the society, all very welcoming.
Shweta and I took a pedal rickshaw to the TDI shopping complex: air conditioned and security checks before entering. She picked out three outfits for me steering me away from my usual choice of blue and blue and blue. I bought kurdas and churidars (leggings) and one salwar kameez with a scarf. We browsed a book store and another shop before lunching at Pizza Hut which had extremely attentive service and a different menu than the US ones. I had a salad and Shweta had garlic bread for appetizers before sharing a pizza. Sunday afternoon I took a taxi to the Park Hotel for my USIEF (United States India Educational Foundation, the Indian counterpart of Fulbright) two-day training. The driver took me to the wrong hotel! Thankfully, the City Hotel, which is where I was delivered, called the Park to confirm my reservation as well as arranging a taxi to take me to the correct hotel!
A driver took both Dhirendra and I to 14 Anandvan, Paschim Vihar, my home for the next five and a half months. Barely had the door been opened and I was greeted with a "proper Indian" welcome: red powder on my forehead and a very sweet, round ball that was scrumptious. I met Madhu, Neena, and Menaka who all live in the same society (the appartment complex of Marathi Indians). I was shown how to use the airconditioner, the television, and the stove.
The next morning Madhu stopped by on her way to work to see how I was doing, my neighbor Shweeta came over to meet me and invite me to go out on Sunday to buy Indian clothes, and then I had lunch at Neena's. Kunda, Rashmi's sister had a mobile phone and international calling card delivered to me, and that night Madhu walked to the market, Reliance, with me so I knew how to get there. At the door security takes bags and checks receipts before leaving.
Sunday the 15th of August was Independence Day. The society had a celebration in the morning with the National Anthem, dances, and snacks. I met more people in the society, all very welcoming.
Shweta and I took a pedal rickshaw to the TDI shopping complex: air conditioned and security checks before entering. She picked out three outfits for me steering me away from my usual choice of blue and blue and blue. I bought kurdas and churidars (leggings) and one salwar kameez with a scarf. We browsed a book store and another shop before lunching at Pizza Hut which had extremely attentive service and a different menu than the US ones. I had a salad and Shweta had garlic bread for appetizers before sharing a pizza. Sunday afternoon I took a taxi to the Park Hotel for my USIEF (United States India Educational Foundation, the Indian counterpart of Fulbright) two-day training. The driver took me to the wrong hotel! Thankfully, the City Hotel, which is where I was delivered, called the Park to confirm my reservation as well as arranging a taxi to take me to the correct hotel!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Indian Maids
Almost everyone I know has one or two maids that work six days a week. Their hours vary: two to eight hours daily. The maids usually live in slums or lower income areas, and their pay is obviously low as their services are so available. I was told that residents of South Delhi have no maids right now because the police cleaned up the slums for the Commonwealth Games. I believe this because my tour last Saturday of the slum children of Delhi was void of children due to the police cleaning the streets and taking the children to home outside Delhi for the Commonwealth Games.
Maids are typically undependable: frequently they come late, leave early, or simply do not show up. This is tolerated as people both need them and regard this as the culture of maids. My maid, Manju, is a typical example of this lifestyle. She is paid 1300 rupees a month, which is about $30. She is supposed to work 2 to 6 p.m. She is only twenty-one and a very slow worker. She spends a lot of time on the phone, sneaks cat naps, comes late, leaves early, and delays doing most tasks I request except cooking. She eats one meal during her shift, and I supply quality grains, pulses, and vegetables. She is an excellent cook, and honestly, I do miss an outstanding meal and fresh chapatis those days she bunks (skips). Many times she will sit down and talk with me instead of working. The first month she worked for me she did not show up seven days, and she cut off about thirteen hours from other days due to tardiness or early departures. Four days I was not home, so I do not know if she came those days. So far during the three weeks of the second month, she has been working for me, she has not shown up seven days and has cut off four hours from other days. I have been asked for a raise and an advance for medicine. She was very unhappy when I followed through with my clarification of expectations in September when I said I would not pay her for the days and hours she did not work. "My pay is very low," she tells me. I reply, "No work, no pay."
Maids are typically undependable: frequently they come late, leave early, or simply do not show up. This is tolerated as people both need them and regard this as the culture of maids. My maid, Manju, is a typical example of this lifestyle. She is paid 1300 rupees a month, which is about $30. She is supposed to work 2 to 6 p.m. She is only twenty-one and a very slow worker. She spends a lot of time on the phone, sneaks cat naps, comes late, leaves early, and delays doing most tasks I request except cooking. She eats one meal during her shift, and I supply quality grains, pulses, and vegetables. She is an excellent cook, and honestly, I do miss an outstanding meal and fresh chapatis those days she bunks (skips). Many times she will sit down and talk with me instead of working. The first month she worked for me she did not show up seven days, and she cut off about thirteen hours from other days due to tardiness or early departures. Four days I was not home, so I do not know if she came those days. So far during the three weeks of the second month, she has been working for me, she has not shown up seven days and has cut off four hours from other days. I have been asked for a raise and an advance for medicine. She was very unhappy when I followed through with my clarification of expectations in September when I said I would not pay her for the days and hours she did not work. "My pay is very low," she tells me. I reply, "No work, no pay."
Friday, September 24, 2010
School Yoga or Academic Flexibility
On September 14, my bus was very late, twenty minutes late. I was worried that it was not coming, that a change had been made that I was unaware of. Thank goodness I had Priya's mobile number so I called to ask her. On the bus, I asked her how the teachers and students knew that the General Knowledge Test was being given September 13 as I only discovered that day when I showed up to class 11 C to find them being tested period 3 and then having a class meeting period 5, both times which are English on the time table. I could not find the GKT anywhere on the calendar, so Priya showed me a different section of the school diary that listed additional tests to those on the calendar.
When I arrived at school a good half-hour late, I was told that a schedule change was beginning: double periods for class 11. Good thing I plan ahead so I could do a double day of teaching.
During lunch, a teacher came to tell me that I had to take 11C to the All Purpose Room the second part of my double period. Right before the second part, a student came to the class to inform me that we would not be going to the All Purpose Room.
I could not find my bus after school. The bus numbers were covered with sheets of paper with locations written on them. I had no idea which bus would take me home. A nice student approached me and told me which bus was mine. By this time, the bus was jammed full of students and teachers. I could barely get inside the bus. Of course, this was a day when I was carrying a lot of notebooks to correct and my laptop in addition to my usual bag with my umbrella, lunch, water bottle and teaching materials. The ride was very uncomfortable. Apparently, as I was told later, the bus schedule was changed because class 10 was not having classes at school as they had a couple days to study for their mid-year exams. Priya suggested we get off half way home and take a rickshaw. She held my hand to help me cross the roads safely and reminded me to keep everything tight on my lap. She is my guardian angel.
After I got home, I kept thinking about flexibility. That word had been used with emphasis in both interviews I had when I applied to teach overseas. Flexibility has a new meaning for me now. Multiple, daily flexibilities is my staple.
"We need bad days to truly appreciate the good days," said ME!
Life has its sitcom days.
When I arrived at school a good half-hour late, I was told that a schedule change was beginning: double periods for class 11. Good thing I plan ahead so I could do a double day of teaching.
During lunch, a teacher came to tell me that I had to take 11C to the All Purpose Room the second part of my double period. Right before the second part, a student came to the class to inform me that we would not be going to the All Purpose Room.
I could not find my bus after school. The bus numbers were covered with sheets of paper with locations written on them. I had no idea which bus would take me home. A nice student approached me and told me which bus was mine. By this time, the bus was jammed full of students and teachers. I could barely get inside the bus. Of course, this was a day when I was carrying a lot of notebooks to correct and my laptop in addition to my usual bag with my umbrella, lunch, water bottle and teaching materials. The ride was very uncomfortable. Apparently, as I was told later, the bus schedule was changed because class 10 was not having classes at school as they had a couple days to study for their mid-year exams. Priya suggested we get off half way home and take a rickshaw. She held my hand to help me cross the roads safely and reminded me to keep everything tight on my lap. She is my guardian angel.
After I got home, I kept thinking about flexibility. That word had been used with emphasis in both interviews I had when I applied to teach overseas. Flexibility has a new meaning for me now. Multiple, daily flexibilities is my staple.
"We need bad days to truly appreciate the good days," said ME!
Life has its sitcom days.
Gaffe Queen
So far my collection of faux pas is as follows.
I misunderstood my friend on the phone. Thinking she wanted a bottle of scotch, I brought one without covering it with a bag. Her father-in-law would be VERY upset had he seen it. She stuffed it under a cushion and had her maid put it in a bag before he saw it. However, anyone in the complex who was looking out his or her window would know I had hard liquor and was transporting it to her building!
When asked to find articles and write questions for the oral comprehension test for grade 10, I clipped out an article that I thought would be interesting to students: Tiger Woods' divorce settlement. My grade coordinator politely informed me that divorce is not an appropriate topic for Indian students who live in a country that honors marriage.
While grading notebooks with a green pen, I was asked why not a red pen like all the other teachers. Only the principal uses green! (When I return to the US, I will tell my students that my green pen has more authority than they ever could imagine!)
I misunderstood my friend on the phone. Thinking she wanted a bottle of scotch, I brought one without covering it with a bag. Her father-in-law would be VERY upset had he seen it. She stuffed it under a cushion and had her maid put it in a bag before he saw it. However, anyone in the complex who was looking out his or her window would know I had hard liquor and was transporting it to her building!
When asked to find articles and write questions for the oral comprehension test for grade 10, I clipped out an article that I thought would be interesting to students: Tiger Woods' divorce settlement. My grade coordinator politely informed me that divorce is not an appropriate topic for Indian students who live in a country that honors marriage.
While grading notebooks with a green pen, I was asked why not a red pen like all the other teachers. Only the principal uses green! (When I return to the US, I will tell my students that my green pen has more authority than they ever could imagine!)
Indian Conundrums
I do not understand:
Why people walk on both sides of the street, and in the school hall and stair well when driving is on the left side;
How people can sleep on the sidewalks , in cars and rickshaws during the day with all the noise;
How Madhu can get up at 4:30 a. m. to do yoga before work and stay up until 11 p.m. or midnight without a nap;
How so many feral dogs get enough to eat for themselves and their puppies;
Why the pigeons keep entering my apartment. What do they want?
How people know bus numbers and routes. When I ask, Indians respond that they just know. So instead of a phone call to a company or an internet search, I ask Menaka, Madhu or Suchitra;
How does one interpret all the honking on the road? Is it for the pedestrian, cow, car, rickshaw, or truck? Does the honk mean more than, "I am coming?" Does the honk want someone to move in a certain direction?
Why people walk on both sides of the street, and in the school hall and stair well when driving is on the left side;
How people can sleep on the sidewalks , in cars and rickshaws during the day with all the noise;
How Madhu can get up at 4:30 a. m. to do yoga before work and stay up until 11 p.m. or midnight without a nap;
How so many feral dogs get enough to eat for themselves and their puppies;
Why the pigeons keep entering my apartment. What do they want?
How people know bus numbers and routes. When I ask, Indians respond that they just know. So instead of a phone call to a company or an internet search, I ask Menaka, Madhu or Suchitra;
How does one interpret all the honking on the road? Is it for the pedestrian, cow, car, rickshaw, or truck? Does the honk mean more than, "I am coming?" Does the honk want someone to move in a certain direction?
"White Privilege:" Yin and Yang
This posting is a pun on a term used in the United States which refers to the advantages white people have in comparison to minorities. Glen Singleton, the Pacific Education Group, and others concerned with closing the achievement gap in the US use this term to create awareness of the different experiences and advantages that whites have in the United States. India, this term has a different meaning.According to my experiences for my first five weeks in Delhi, India.
White privilege means:
being stared at, not glanced at, but having eyes glued on me, on city buses, the metro, and in areas that are not visited by tourists, such as where I am living ( If it is a female, I smile at her. Smiles are universal!);
having a very attentive waiter at Pizza Hut;
getting laughed at by some children on the street;
being greeted enthusiastically by students in Bal Bharati Public School ("Good morning, Mam");
being charged more than Indians by drivers, rickshaws, markets without prices marked (I am helping the Indian economy!);
having security put my groceries in my bag and open the door when I leave (their job is only to verify that my receipt shows payment for every item in cart);
being ignored at the counter of Easy day, a grocery store. When I put my basket in the checkout location, the clerk ignored me. At first I patiently waited thinking the clerk had to finish something before checking out a customer. An Indian man approached the clerk from the incorrect side and was immediately rung up. I was flabbergasted. I stared at the two of them, my mouth open with shock in my eyes. Still invisible to them, I left, groceries in the basket for them to put away. I will never go in the store again!
receiving immediate service about a land line complaint. The service man was sent to come to my apartment in ten minutes. As I would not be home then, I was given his cell phone number to call when I would be home so he could come right away to fix my phone.
being harassed by men in some areas of Delhi ( How can they be interested in an old lady like me? I could be their grandmother! They must think this teacher is loaded with money!);
receiving stories about visits to the United States or about family members who live in the US;
having colleagues and friends making sure I get home okay and holding my hand when crossing the street;
receiving TONS of invitations and warm greetings.
White privilege means:
being stared at, not glanced at, but having eyes glued on me, on city buses, the metro, and in areas that are not visited by tourists, such as where I am living ( If it is a female, I smile at her. Smiles are universal!);
having a very attentive waiter at Pizza Hut;
getting laughed at by some children on the street;
being greeted enthusiastically by students in Bal Bharati Public School ("Good morning, Mam");
being charged more than Indians by drivers, rickshaws, markets without prices marked (I am helping the Indian economy!);
having security put my groceries in my bag and open the door when I leave (their job is only to verify that my receipt shows payment for every item in cart);
being ignored at the counter of Easy day, a grocery store. When I put my basket in the checkout location, the clerk ignored me. At first I patiently waited thinking the clerk had to finish something before checking out a customer. An Indian man approached the clerk from the incorrect side and was immediately rung up. I was flabbergasted. I stared at the two of them, my mouth open with shock in my eyes. Still invisible to them, I left, groceries in the basket for them to put away. I will never go in the store again!
receiving immediate service about a land line complaint. The service man was sent to come to my apartment in ten minutes. As I would not be home then, I was given his cell phone number to call when I would be home so he could come right away to fix my phone.
being harassed by men in some areas of Delhi ( How can they be interested in an old lady like me? I could be their grandmother! They must think this teacher is loaded with money!);
receiving stories about visits to the United States or about family members who live in the US;
having colleagues and friends making sure I get home okay and holding my hand when crossing the street;
receiving TONS of invitations and warm greetings.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Indian Culture
One of the first questions I am asked is, "How do you manage your food?" At first I thought it was because I am petite, but now I am beginning to think this is a cultural concern. Food is important. Indians love their vegetables and pulses (legumes). In New Delhi, which is in northern India where I am living, onions, tomatoes, tumeric, garlic, ginger, mustard seed, green chilis, coriander, and cilantro are commonly used in dahls and other dishes.
Indians invest a lot in friendship and value their families immensely. Greeting to others are sincere. Relationships are based on mutual respect and support; people are direct and openly public about issues. I have not yet observed any competition with or criticism of acquaintances, colleagues, friends or others. Many families include the parents of the married couple as well as adult children. The elder woman often does the cooking. College students live at home; many working adults live at home, and some families have a father who lives in a different city or country due to work.
Many vendors and stores deliver. In the morning, I sometimes order fresh vegetables from the street vendor on my way to the bus stop. He delivers the vegetables to either my neighbor or the guards at the gate of my apartment complex. Pharmacies deliver medicines.
Many families have maids who clean or cook for them. My maid Manju is a wonderful cook. I am grateful that Indian clothes are loose so I can still wear them as I grow in width.
Indians invest a lot in friendship and value their families immensely. Greeting to others are sincere. Relationships are based on mutual respect and support; people are direct and openly public about issues. I have not yet observed any competition with or criticism of acquaintances, colleagues, friends or others. Many families include the parents of the married couple as well as adult children. The elder woman often does the cooking. College students live at home; many working adults live at home, and some families have a father who lives in a different city or country due to work.
Many vendors and stores deliver. In the morning, I sometimes order fresh vegetables from the street vendor on my way to the bus stop. He delivers the vegetables to either my neighbor or the guards at the gate of my apartment complex. Pharmacies deliver medicines.
Many families have maids who clean or cook for them. My maid Manju is a wonderful cook. I am grateful that Indian clothes are loose so I can still wear them as I grow in width.
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