Bundles of Joy

---

Inline with my newfound smiliness, I’ve been thinking about the things in India that I love - well, ‘really enjoy’ at least. I don’t love India; I haven’t fallen for it as I was hoping to or indeed as so many people do, though I’m yet to really travel around and India is a vast place with a multitude of cultures, so I’m reserving judgment. In the meantime, my smiles have been derived from the most unexpected of sources.

Number one on my list has to be the big blue and yellow buses which I attached a photo of last time. Yes, they’re a safe, cheap and reliable form of transport, which in its self is no mean feat in India, but the point for me, as I mentioned before, is not the physical journeys by bus, but the mental ones. During the 90-minute journey to town, I’m away in a world of my own dreaming of living in one of those buses. Have you seen the movie ‘Into the Wild’? As I think I said before, I watched it on the plane over here. It’s about a guy who ends up living in a bus in the Alaskan scrublands - at least I think its Alaska anyway. The point is, that these Kolkatan buses would make a perfect home; the gorgeous worn wooden structures not only carry their histories with them, but they also offer a real sense of warmth and comfort - admittedly not so key in sweltering Kolkata, but it wouldn’t be here you’d live on one. A real fuel stove would be perfectly at home on board and the cab is deep enough to make a gorgeous shower. Travelling on these buses can be hectic and hugely crowded, but they’re pretty massive, behind the cab, each bus hosts a shrine to the favourite local deities - usually Kali, Shiva and Rama Krishna. On my numerous journeys to town my imagination has comprehensively sculpted my bus-home in great detail to a number of different specifications. It’s only a dream you understand. I have no intension at this point to put it in to action, but it makes me smile and that’s got to be good.

Also very high on my list is the way that maleness is expressed in India. Before I go on, I want to be clear that of course I know there are numerous nasty and deplorable ways in which maleness is expressed here, as with anywhere else, but I’m not talking about those today; this is a rosy biased view of only the beauty. Within the relationships men forge amongst themselves there is a lot to admire for it is the men in India, not the women, who feel most at ease with emotional expression. As a broad generalisation, it is undeniable that men not only find it comfortable and indeed comforting to be hugging and holding hands with their mates, but actually find it an important part of showing the world how strong their friendships are; how much they ‘belong’. Until they are married, men here are very much pack animals, it seems to be integral to their identity, and thus they will proudly walk down the street holding hands - it’s almost like a membership marker showing which gang you belong to, but a very beautiful one. I feel like there’s so much more to the physical expression of male friendships than I have yet understood. Even in the office, my male colleagues will say hello to Rose, but little more, I on the other hand will get my hand held, have arms placed around my shoulders, and hands placed on my knee, indeed any other not sexual contact you can imagine. It’s a show; not just about how comfortable they are with me, but also how comfortable they would like me to be with them. Eye contact is another aspect of this, but I’m having no more luck understanding this more familiar expression. Women never ever make eye contact with me, unless I’ve spoken directly to them - that’s easy. Men on the other hand will give you so many messages through their eyes it’s remarkable, but I’m still completely unable to translate them. The most common look is a long lingering ‘what is the white man doing in my neighbourhood’ - that one I’ve mastered! Anyway, ultimately it’s beautiful to see men showing their platonic love for each other so sensitively and this is something I will absolutely miss in the UK.

I completely admire India’s brave and relentless defense of one of its most historic assets, especially in the face of such determined international distain. Long live Kitsch (and it so is an asset)! Indeed, although Germany, as European Champions of kitsch, rightly gave us the word, sadly they are mere amateurs in the face of Indian competition. Everything here is; sparkly, shiny, fluffy, plastic, without purpose, of garish colours, camp, accompanied by a song and dance, and adorned with every one of your Nan’s favourite patterns. The whole country is a retro-paradise. Where else in the world would you find a ceramic glitter-effect elephant god with ‘real’ ruby inset? The joy that such things bring to me is quite beyond description.

Linked very closely to my last entry in this narrative of gorgeous things, is the wonder of Bollywood. Specifically here I wish to profuse about the very particular and wonderous pleasures of modern Bollywood. It seems that there is a new and healthy awareness in India that the generic song, dance, costume and scenery fest that comprises the traditional Bollywood movie is in fact, naff. This is not to say that people feel that such movies are bad in any way or should no longer be made, far from it, and neither should it. Rather, this awareness has spawned a new breed of Bollywood classics based on the same formula but with a heavy dose of tongue-in-cheek and laughing at oneself. For me the classic proponent of this genre is the gorgeously kitsch and really very amusing ‘OM Shanti OM’. It’s a Shah Rukh Khan fest!!! That’ll mean more to some of you than others - Oh the pain of disco!!! (It’s a SRK quote; you’ll have to bear with me)

Another source of smiles for me here is the unique and rather splendid use of the English Language. Many middle-class Indians of course speak English as their primary language. This means you end up with educated and eloquent people using an English Language which sounds very much like that of Victorian Britain. The result is some stunning bits of phraseology that always raise a smile. Please don’t imagine I’m mocking here, far from it, I’m actually a bit jealous of how stubbornly India had managed to hold on to so many expressive English words that no longer grace our lips. Those words aren’t always used in a way that we might expect, but that’s part of the fun. By way of an example; I’ve copied this from a letter one of my colleagues has just written: “Respected Mam, please take hearty greeting from BNP+. After a short discussion with our fellow senior board members we are in a point to render you a positive signal in this respect. However, it is our privilege to work with you in the same view”. Basically it means; I’d love to work with you thanks. It’s by no means the best example, but I can’t think of one off hand. Oh, one of my favourite expressions is; ‘I am expositing for your quick final response’. This is a stock phrase that means; I’m looking forward to hearing from you. Another classic is: ‘do the needful’, i.e. get on with it!

The general lack of corporate advertising here in Kolkata also makes me happy. Very few of the International Corporations actually operate here as per my comments in a previous blog. It’s so refreshing not to see Coca Cola or Virgin logos in each eye-full of the world that you consume. Rather, the media airspace is rammed full of political shepherding. The walls of buildings everywhere are rounding up the party political troops with propaganda and membership incentives in a desperate attempt to maintain political status quo - a battle that I believe they’re losing. Clearly things are changing as the billboards are now much more likely to be showing half-naked White men in the latest style of underwear or uber-ladened women grimacing under the weight of more jewellery than your average belly-dancing troupe. Part of the reason why Corporates are still relatively thin on the ground is the pricing system in this country. Rather than the Recommended Retail Price that goods are given in the UK, all goods here have an MRP, Maximum Retail Price. The way this manifests is that all the shiny pseudo-Western stores in town will always charge you this price in order to cover their extortionate overheads, but all the friendly quirky little shops in your local neighbourhood, will start off charging the MRP before getting progressively cheaper as they reward your regular custom. They also reward you with a smile, which, as you can imagine, is hard to come by at the supermarket. In this way, everyone is happy and it’ll take that little bit longer before Indian supermarkets are seen on every high street. Yeah the little guy! (and I’m afraid it is always a guy). Kolkata feels like it has escaped the onslaught of generic retail which, you could argue, has been to the detriment of its infrastructure, but sociologically its world is so much smilier for it.

In terms of food, Bengal is famous for its sweets and its fish, so not especially interesting to me. However, what is unjustly lying in the shadows at Bengali corner shops everywhere is the beautiful Bengali Mustard. It’s a unique taste along the lines of Dijon mustard, but in my humble opinion, with more flavour and less kick. It’s completely lovely and is pretty ubiquitous in the local cuisine. What’s especially great is that they also make an oil from the local mustard seeds which has a similar distinctive flavour and is cheaper and healthier than the artery-clogging ghee which the rest of Indian so adores.

On the same food theme, I am so happy about the seasonality of the fruit and veg here. Wealthy nations of the world seem to have completely killed the notion of what is or isn’t in season and we’ve lost a wonderful cultural marker as a result. I personally think the most important thing about eating seasonal foods is that you’re not flying unseasonal ones half way round the world to meet demand, thus massively reducing food miles. Also though, the foods taste so much better and are probably much better for you as they’re not chemically or genetically induced. And if all that wasn’t reason enough, it is so lovely to walk through the market realising that a new season in something has just begun, people are going wild for whatever it is as they’ve had to wait all year for its return - good things come to those who wait and all that. Yes it means that I now won’t get any more Lychees or Jackfruit as their season is over, but Pineapples and Pomellos (gentle version of a Pink Grapefruit) have just come into season and so I’m now gorging on them instead. Love it.

So, here I am at the end of my Bengali joy-ride and I come to the very anodyne pleasure of simply never being cold. Simple yes, but never to be underestimated. I’m sure my neck has stretched since being here, no longer is it screwed tight down into my shoulders for draught exclusion purposes. The knots in my shoulders fell away like leaves in the breeze as soon as Delhi’s embracing heat wrapped me up 5 months ago. Enough said, surely no-one needs convincing about the pleasures of warmth?

So there we are; bundles of joy. It feels like a nice change from my usual rantings. Disappointingly, coming up with this list was a little more difficult than I’d have liked, but as I started by saying, I still have an open mind about the joys of India yet to come, and in the meantime, my smiles and I are reacquainting ourselves.

---