Sitting here in Bangalore’s Taj West End Hotel in south India, my father is once more very often in my thoughts. He, of course, knew India inside out and saw her in all her different guises. I am mainly seeing the India of the well to do and the rich, with only glimpses of the less well off and the really poor. I see the colours of the rain-forest gardens with its vocal bird life and only from the comfort of a taxi do I see the crumbling dusty houses and pavements where people sleep, squat and eat.
If only all of India could be like the small protected paradise that my hotel is. It would be a true parades then – and Eden on earth. I never imagined I would come here. Even when father promised to take me here. It seemed so far away. Yet it is nearer (in flight hours) than San Francisco. It seemed so exotic, yet isn’t Japan as exotic and I have been there.
Is this the kind of India that my father fell in love with? Even before he ever came here? The India from books. Are these the people that he liked so much? I do know that here they speak one of the languages that he spoke fluently. How I wish I had gone to India while he was still alive, so I could speak to him about her. Yet this trip and the invitation to come here I only accepted, initially, because it came at the time of this years anniversary of his death and I thought it would be a fitting tribute to come and visit the place that stole his heart and mind. Sadly my mother, who was supposed to accompany me, didn’t get her visa on time and never made it on this trip. The woman, who shared her husband with India, who knew Jawaharlal Nehru and other VIPs was in the end denied this visit by some pencil-pushing clerk in the Indian consulate.
Do I have the arrogance to list what I love about India and what I don’t after only a few days here and living in a protective glass bowl? Yes I do. I love the people who are generally so friendly and generous, the sound of the birds, the vivid colours and the dignity yet easy going nature of the people. I dislike that there seem to be hardly any cats, that all the animals are very thin, the real poverty, that the women are afraid to go out alone after dark, the toilets.
But I hope to visit her again and this time with my mother.
I survived the flight - but landing was really bumpy! Thought the plane would shake apart.
So no I am sitting in my hotel, here it is 9:30 for me it’s 4:00am. I have the door open to the balcony and a cacophony of bird and animal sounds nearly deafens me. There are vultures flying around the hotel grounds....wonder if they are eating the remains of the hotel’s past guests!
Second day has dawned to the cacophony of the birds. I had a cup to tea on the balcony watching “my” pair of vultures/buzzards. Then I was picked up to go to the morning sessions of the conference. They were interesting.
Back at the hotel I went for lunch at the Masals Klub. Really nice real Indian meal. At this hotel, the rooms are spread out in a large garden complex. So there are buggies to take the guests to and fro. There are also various types of guards all around, some are very serious – they are those that make sure that the hotel terrorism that happened in Bombay does not happen here. Others are more to help. Every time I set foot out of my door someone appears and a buggy arrives and there is help everywhere, so much so that it is getting annoying. I managed to convince the people at the restaurant that I wanted to walk to my room. On this short walk, I was asked about 20 times if I wanted a buggy, and the last 20 meters or so I was accompanied by one of the guards, who made sure I went into my room (although I actually wanted to wander more around the gardens), opened the door and got the whole family history out of me (they are all very curious!). I think I will have to climb from my balcony to escape!
Otherwise the contrast between the haves and have-nots is incredible and it lives side by side (see next blog). For a westerner like me it is difficult to see - even though I haven’t seen the worst.
Third day is here and I am still alive and kicking, though tired, cause we had the conference buffet last night. The really nice part of that was South Indian Classical Dancing and singing. The food I didn’t dare to try and got bitten by mosquitoes.
Today I had to chair the session; it went more or less okay. The only mistake I made was saying that the penultimate talk was the final when...LOL I think it was my (and a lot of other people’s) wishful thinking.
So what about the city, Bangalore? There isn’t much for tourists here, not much nice stuff to see – and the interesting poor stuff – the taxi goes very fast past it. The best bit was the Bull temple, but it still is rather small and in the middle of a very noisy city. Saw a few cows on the streets and some bulls. But the poor bulls do get eaten here (unlike the cows which are holy).
People tried to sell me everything from memory sticks in the middle of a busy road, to drums near the temple. I desisted. Then the taxi driver took me to a lovely set of shops, called the Cottage Industries, where much to my horror I fell in love with a hand woven carpet and suffice to say that my credit card bill is larger. I also brought a few presents. Now the carpet is in the suitcase and I am wondering what to do with my other stuff!!
I was hoping India would somehow help me reconnect – if that is the right word – with my father, but the only thing happening is that I miss him more and am more angry that he is dead, because I so would like to share this trip with him.
Well today I visited a place where they treat certain cancers and cartilage problems, with low level MRI (magnetic resonance) radiation. It seems to give some extremely good results.
Then I met family of family for lunch. Now I am packing.
I love India, and it drives me crazy. The people are very nice, extremely friendly, but they don’t want to see any problems. They have totally built up Bangalore, with cheep concrete buildings, destroying villages and farming in the process, for example. And I am not going to talk about the underclass of people one sees here existing side by side with the very rich. Also saw a starving horse on the street - it broke my heart. Enormous amount of dogs. Some cows. Lots of dust and pollution. And this is the garden city
