My disenchantment with India

I wrote in my last blog post that my recent trip to the United States of America has changed my perspective about life. I have become a disenchanted Indian.

So apparently I have transformed into a stereotypical Indian who is disenchanted with life in India after visiting the US of A.

— Krishna Kumar V. (@krishna_kumar_v) May 27, 2015

What I mean by the that is that the way things are done in India, especially in Mumbai, don't particularly make sense. Unfortunately, these things universally involve people: people being uncooperative, people yelling at each other, people letting their kids to annoy other people, people not respective personal space, people talking louder than what's necessary.

Sure, when you aren't exposed to this year round, these will seem charming--they become a part of the India experience. That's what movies like Slumdog Millionaire and The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel do to you. Like allergens, anything unacceptable can be tolerated at low doses of exposure.

My close friend Rich, who loves this limited-exposure to India pointed this out. He thinks that Indian New channels, with 5 tickers, 10 people shouting at each other seemingly always, and the assault of colors on our retinae, are able to sufficiently encapsulate this phenomenon. I agree with him.

So the trip hasn't changed my opinion about the reasons underlying this public immorality. I still think people behave they way they behave because they were forced because of other people behaving a certain way. A closed loop, you see. So, technically, you can't blame them. They do what they have learned in their life and they probably haven't exposed to anything different.

What has changed, however, is that, before the trip, I thought that I had to adjust to it and remain relatively unperturbed. You couldn't do much, you see. You need to expose yourself to it if you want to experience life and not live as a hermit.

Now I think it is different. I feel that I'm being unkind and inconsiderate to myself by consciously exposing myself to this and bring the quality of my life down. Yes, I know that I will probably have less of a social life if I follow the strategy. But what I will have left will be more worth the trouble.

But what am I doing to change it? I will communicate my resentment more regularly. Here, I just wrote about it. Yesterday, on my way bag from a weekend at J's home across the bay, I had a conversation where I made sure the people who misbehaved understood that I was talking about them. Maybe Indians still have a certain threshold for shame that I'm able to overcome.

Quality of Life and Friendships

They say travel experiences define you, change you, and give you a new perspective about your life. And I think they are right.

Thanks to my employers, I got the opportunity to be in America for two weeks. I represented my company at a scholarly conference in Philadelphia, which was sandwiched by visits to Washington DC area and New York City.

It was an incredible experience. Friends who were exposed to my constant updates on social media told me that I satisfied about 88% of the criteria of a stereotypical Indian touring the States. And that's not a good thing. :)

Photo: One gets really happy when one sees the best-tasting food on the planet! #patscheesesteaks... http://t.co/0jHjytdKTg

— Krishna Kumar V. (@krishna_kumar_v) May 16, 2015

What they did not infer, however, is the dramatic shift in perspective that I have of life. Living in metropolitan India, especially Mumbai, tends to numb you. Especially if you are--I hate to use this word--"cultured." You are suffocated for time, space, and noise, among other things.

I think I am at a stage in my life when a quieter, less-stressful life may be a good thing. My psychological state make this wish more or less compulsory if I need to have an acceptable quality of life.

This trip also made me understand that friendships, even those I maintain online, are my most prized possessions. After all, friends seem to care about me like no one else ever has.

Quite simply, we should all spend more time with friends, share experiences, learn from each other, and create moments.

(PS: With this post, I hope I haven't climbed up on the criteria list for the Indian stereotype.)

Outrageous law

I’m from Kerala and I’m ashamed of the laws there. Yesterday, the authorities imposed a new law: nobody can  be on a railway station or travel in a train after having consumed alcohol. Yes, you don’t have to be drunk. Even if they detect traces, it’s going to cost you.

Alcohol is a lifestyle. A certain section of the population use it as a food/beverage and a vast majority of them never indulge in any antisocial activities. Individuals like me know how to behave, even if it is with alcohol or without. Those who misbehave will do so even without being under the influence of alcohol.

It’s discrimination against a minority of the population. Kerala government, not every body who enjoys alcohol molests women. Not every teetotaler would molest women either. Just get rid of this stupid law.

Delhi Trip - Day 4

The last day of our trip started out with a heavy breakfast – as usual – at the rooftop restaurant. Both me and my friend had to catch morning flights to our destinations. The hotel arranged for a car to drop us at the airport. Because my friend was going to the International terminus T3, we dropped him off first. The taxi driver took Rs. 200 extra from me to take me to the domestic terminus – that’s how cut-throat these Delhi cabbies can be. That’s one of the reasons why I dislike Delhi. It is a beautiful place, but conveyance is a pain in the neck. I think the metro is a fantastic thing to have happened to Delhi and has made intra-city travel so much easier.

My flight was delayed by 2 hours primarily because of fog and secondarily because of (what I feel) as the sheer ineptitude of Go Air, the airline which I was flying. Despite my breakfast, I felt hungry and had to grab a miniaturised chicken zinger burger from the KFC and a coffee from the Costa Coffee before I boarded the flight at around 1 pm. There is nothing much to write home about regarding the flight except that it hovered in the Mumbai airspace for close to 20 minutes because of airtime congestion. Darned! Had I been home on time, I could have worked half-day and saved that much of leave.

I took an auto-rickshaw back home from the airport. Unlike Delhi, I asked the rickshaw-wallah to put on the meter and he obliged. That’s the beauty of Mumbai. On the ride in the rickshaw, I carefully surveyed the roads of Mumbai and compared them with those in Delhi. One thing is certain – Delhi might be brilliant, spacious, and beautiful in some parts. But it can’t beat Mumbai in terms of consistency and charm. Of course, conveyance is the other glaring “fail” of Delhi.

After reaching back home late in the evening, I started working on the photos and my blog posts so that you can read all this. All in all, it was a fabulous trip to Delhi and I had the wonderful company of a charming man! We sure are looking forward to our next trip together. Maybe it will be to Goa!

Delhi Trip - Day 2

The second day started out with a fantastic breakfast at the roof-toop restaurant at our hotel. It was still overcast and there was a threat of drizzles. We first set out by metro to Chandni Chowk. Central Delhi isn’t really a place that will appeal to a foreigner who’s expecting Delhi to be a shining demonstration of India’s emergency as an economic superpower. After getting out the metro station, we walked around the maze of Chandni Chowk. We found an interesting chaiwallah who allowed us to photograph him after some initial reluctance. His chai was amazing and we would recommend him if you ever visit Chandni Chowk by using the metro as he is on your way out from the metro station to the main street.

We walked through some of the bylanes in Chandni Chowk looking for some items for him to buy, but we didn’t find anything interesting. Then we headed out to the Red Fort where we were greeted by the great Indian racist propoganda – Rs. 250 entry for a foreigner and Rs. 10 for an Indian or those from the SAARC countries. After getting our passes, we went in the majestic red fort which wasn’t look all that red.

Inside, we found an interesting row of stalls selling antiques, jewelery etc. He was suggesting that we should visit all the shops with cute Indian men and as soon as we said that, we walked by a shop which had a couple of handsome Indian men up front. We walked into the shop and we were greeted by a third handsome man who took us to the interior of the shop to demonstrate his wares.

We got into a friendly conversation with him. Soon enough, the vendor recognized us as being a gay couple and outed himself as a bisexual guy. He showed us fantastic paintings of the gay Kama Sutra – apparently, that shop is the only place which sells such paintings in Delhi. We had such a wonderful, flirtatious chat with this vendor and we decided that we would come back and buy some paintings if my friend’s client would answer positively to the e-mail that we would send later that evening.

We then visited the interior of the fort, which was a pleasant experience. On our way back out, we checked out some more stalls and my friend bought a few bracelets at a reasonable price using all of his charm on the vendors. I can’t believe how all these vendors love him so much. He’s such a charmer, I say! We then headed back to the metro station. We grabbed some cheap vegetarian fast food on our way for lunch.

We bought our tickets to the Central Secretariat and got into a packed train at Chandni Chowk. We were almost crushed to death three times during our trip – funny, it wasn’t even rush hour. I consider that as an experience even worse than the rush hour in Mumbai suburban railway system. Somehow, we managed to get down at the Central Secretariat and walked on the Rajpath to the India Gate. This part of Delhi, the South Delhi part is incredibly beautiful – despite some puddles and mud on our way because of the rain.

We hung out for a few minutes at the India Gate where some vendors came up to my friend and started talking to him in English. Suddenly, my friend started talking in Japanese. The jaws of the vendors dropped and they asked me in English if my friend was Japanese. After a furious minute or two of conversation in fluent Japanese, during which my friend indicated his lack of interest in the items the vendors were selling, we took a autorickshaw to Rashtrapathi Bhavan at the other end of Rajpath.

We spent a few minutes taking pictures and my friend posed for pictures with an extended family from Uttar Pradesh. Then we took the same autorickshaw back to Pahar Ganj. We were really tired for the second day in running and relaxed for a couple of hours while drinking beer – I watched the World Cup warm up match between India and New Zealand while my friend got busy with e-mails and photographs.

We headed out to find another restaurant for having dinner. We ended up at a cheap roadside dhabha at Arakasan road which had a tandoor. After having rather disappointing dinner comprising Tandoori Chicken, rumaali roti, and half chicken tikka biriyani, we took a walk around the disappointing neighborhood. I played with a few of the stray dogs – the stray dogs in Delhi are so much more friendly than those in Mumbai – and after that, we returned back home for the night.

Delhi Trip - Day 1

Waking up in the morning and catching an early flight to Delhi is stressful enough. That too, to meet a person whom you have never met is almost terrifying with the weight of expectations, how much ever you try to control them. But I wasn’t really terrified - I was happy and excited with Madonna giving me brilliant company through the trip and FaceBook threads giving me enough entertainment as a distraction.

When I got down at the Terminal 1 of the Delhi airport, it was cold and overcast. I had to find a way to get to the new Terminal 3 (T3) - I found a free inter-terminal GVM bus which was rather convenient. At T3, however, as the time of arrival of my friend’s flight drew nearer, it started raining, it got really cold, and my anxiety was almost unbearable. His flight was slightly delayed and it took some time for him to clear immigration and get out. He couldn’t find me initially - and was wandering around the couple of exists for a few minutes until I saw him.

I called out for him and he turned around and we walked toward each other. He looked even more beautiful than I had expected him to be. He came over and we hugged each other. It was a surreal experience to have met someone so special within 7 weeks of meeting each other online. We took a cab to the hotel in the cold, rainy weather. Incredibly enough, the road leading from the airport to the city was lined by various things under construction and the rain made everything blur into a muddy mess.

However, the conversation was easy and smooth I felt at ease with his company. Our senses of humor were complementary – that is why we got interested in each other in the first place – and it was obvious that we made an excellent pair intellectually. And he was crazy and eccentric – just like the clown that I had grown used to on Skype.

For some reason or the other, the cab driver took us through one of the less beautiful roads of Delhi to the dirty Pahar Ganj area, a hub for cheap hotels. We were expecting the worst when the cabbie rode up a filthy side lane into a the Arakasan road leading up to our hotel. Our hotel looked a tad better than the rest of the other neighboring hotels and we were ushered into our “Premium” room. Despite it being late in the morning, we decided to have some breakfast and ordered in the complimentary breakfast.

After resting for an hour or so, we planned to head out to the streets. The room-boys told us that it was raining heavily outside – but we didn’t want to get stuck indoors. We took an autorickshaw to Connaught Place to check out the various state emporiums and showrooms of handicrafts along the Baba Kharak Singh Marg (NH8) and picked up a couple of umbrellas from a shop.

Connaught place was an incredible mess, with the rain spoiling everything. We took some time to find out an ATM and a currency exchange vendor before having a cup of average coffee at the Madras Coffee House at P-block. We asked around for Baba Kharak Sing Marg but we got confusing responses from the people that we asked. Finally, a boy pointed us out the right way.

We went and visited almost all the emporiums on the road. He wanted to take a look at silk scarves, bracelets, necklaces etc to see if he could make a reasonable wholesale purchase. It was incredible the way he interacted with the vendors. Cracking jokes, making them smile, and making them extremely friendly! They all loved him and he loved charming them! Although we didn’t buy anything, he got an idea about the various options that he had in Delhi (as compared to the open markets in Thailand, Bali, and Burma).

We then took the Metro from Rajiv Chowk to INA and went to Delhi Haat. By this time the weather had cleared up and it was a little warmer. Although we were greeted by a message at the ticket counter that some of the stalls are closed because allotment of stalls was taking place on that day, we weren’t all that disappointed. We walked in and found an incredible array of stalls featuring products such as silk scarves, pashminas, rugs, jewlery, paintings, paper work, puppets and more. There were some food stalls too – I took him to the Kerala Tourism Development’s stall where we had appam (which is apparently called “huppers” in Sri Lanka) and vegetable stew.

We bought a few scarves at a reasonable price and also bought a couple of hanging puppets for decorating his tents – he resells all these scarves/jewelry items in the US after setting up tents at various institutions, schools etc. We then took the train back to the New Delhi where we had to wait for half an hour to get platform tickets to cross to the other side of the station where our hotel was. That was the really annoying part of the entire trip.

After reaching back the hotel all exhausted, we relaxed for a bit before taking a shower and then venturing out for dinner. The most ironic thing is that there were hardly any good restaurants in Pahar Ganj where one can have a decent dinner with drinks. We found a recently opened restro bar called Delhi Den where we had a cocktail and tandoori chicken along with rotis and palak paneer. The food was delicious – that’s Delhi’s asset, the quality of the restaurants. And we called it a night after that.

I must confess that all through the day, I felt the most at ease that I had felt with anyone that I had met in a long time. It was almost as if we had known each other for years. That concludes day one of our adventure in Delhi.

The Great Indian Train Journey

The incredible coming out expedition had to end incredibly too. What better setting for that to happen other than a two-day journey in the second-class sleeper coach of a train in India! I'm visibly underplaying the torrid time that I had with noisy college-going adolescents in the bus in which I had to spend the night before getting on the train at Coimbatore, but the train experience is a must-do-in-life for anyone who wishes to travel to or in India.

For those unaware of what such a journey tends to bring forth, there is really no other way but to experience it. To describe it in a few words is impossible but then, I'd be being dishonest with my readers if I didn't try. If you let yourself to open out to the possibilities in such a situation, I think the spirit of India will easily percolate into your soul - the kindness, the warmth, the love on one side versus the nosiness, the noisiness and invasion of privacy etc.

I was in the little section for eight people with a family and two young men. The family was not really a nuclear family - it was an elderly couple travelling with their grand daughter and her grand uncle. They were travelling to Mumbai for a wedding. The grand father in the family was a very handsome older man and naturally, I was immediately attracted to him especially when I saw him cuddling with his dear grand daughter.

Soon, with the the under-current of my innate tendency to get attracted to good looking older men, I started a conversation with the family. Surprisingly, they were fluent both in English and Malayalam and the conversation started became very interesting with a lot of jokes and anecdotes. We shared the food that we had with each other and bought each other the stuff that the pantry people brought to us.

Surprisingly, I was enamored to the grand daughter and started playing around with her. We got so friendly that she preferred to be with me; to have me feed her, to take me along for little walks up and down the aisle and stuff. The expectant father in me sprang to life once more and I thoroughly enjoyed it and revelled in the pride of being able to take care of a 2 year old toddler through their mood swings.

One of the two younger men was a gorgeous looking younger man with very sharp, femme features. He was sitting across me in one of the side seats and we had started talking before my overture towards the grand father in the family. He turned out to be quite a revelation - a professional dirt bike racer and a intelligent and charming conversationalist. I was absolutely sure of his gayness until he mentioned that he had someone special in his life and she doesn't want him to carry on with his racing career. Despite that twist, I'm pretty sure that he is gay and that like many, many other Indians, he was just oblivious of his real self because the force with which the society stifles it.

The other man turned out to be a IT professional who happened to reside pretty close to where I live in Mumbai. He preferred to sleep or be rather reclusive throughout the entire journey - typifying his profession and christian background. The only conversastion that I had with him was when we were about to get out of the train at Mumbai - the conversation was about alcohol - Feni, to be specific - that he had in Goa when he went for his friend's wedding.

Date at the Railway Station

There are people who advise me to not publish my personal life in such a public forum. They feel that it's too much information which is not welcome. But that's not my point anyway, is it? The point of this blog is to let me express whatever that I wanted to and provide the option to read it or not. Nobody forces anyone to read any blog. It's a choice that you make and hence, I don't think that I'm force-feeding people here.

So, through the last few months of my social networking, I have been stumbling on profiles of men of interest to me - both sexually and intellectually. Some of them feel the same toward me to and in the event of things happening in the desired progressive sequence, we end up keeping in touch. One such person is this remarkable asura-lookalike artist from the Silicon Valley of India.

For those who don't have the faintest idea of who asuras are, go look up Indian mythology in wikipidea or something. For all practical purposes, asuras are extremely hot-looking, masculine, well-built, mostly-anti-hero type men in Indian mythology who happened to always have a history of being lustful and lust-worthy in an animalistic kind of way. A typical example is Ravana, the 10 headed monster who captured Sita and lost the war with Rama because of the monkey army.

Back to the story - I and he had been keeping in touch through the multifarious ways of the modern Internet and have expressed the desire to be with each other many times before. For some reason, I thought it was exciting to let him know that I was passing through his home-town on my way back to Mumbai and asked him if he could meet me for the brief sojourn of the train at the station.

I was surprised when he agreed. Even more so, when I peeked into the little bag that he had brought with him with a fantabulastic Indian dinner in it. Apparently, his Mom, who happens to be a wonderful cook, had whipped up the thing on request. Apart from the food, we met and had a cup of coffee at the railway station where I flirted with him (with words) in my usual effervescent manner. I wasn't acting or anything - was just feeling great about my coming out experience.

He told me stories about how he had dressed up for a professional photo shoot dressing up as Ravana the other day. I could so see the handsome, sexy asura that resided in his body and I did feel the lust to give him a peck at the least. But I can rein in my feelings. And I did. One thing is clear to me now though after seeing a near-perfect Ravana - I firmly believe that Sita would have preferred to be in his gardens in Lanka than in the plains of northern India with the rather docile Ram.

(PS: For all the Ram Sena activists - this post is is just a modern, sarcastic take on Ramayana. Just like how Dev-D is for Devdas, the novel. And besides, you aren't interested in gay-bois anyway - you guys would much rather molest young straight couples!)