The Pappadom is back!!

Did anyone miss me while I was away in Incredible India?? Anyone? No one?

Well, I did receive a couple of welcoming messages offline. The first is obviously from the SQ girls. “Welcome to Singapore. To all citizens and residents, (pause) a WARM welcome home”. (Eyes rolling. The Queen LOVES this greeting.)

Then I got a few texts along the lines of “You’re alive!” or “How’s Yeeen-dia? And the most common is, “Got Delhi Belly or not?” The worse is, “How’s Bangladesh?”

Bangalore lah, not Bangladesh.

Anyhow..

If you ask me, this trip has got to be one of the most nerve-wrecking business assignments I was ever sent to do. I was given a goal but I wasn’t told the modus operandi. I have conduct interviews, observe what is going on, evaluate everything and at the end of the trip, conduct a closing before the leadership team. Imagine it as a court trial if you will. If the ‘jury’ agree with my findings, heads won’t roll. If they are not convinced, my head will roll first.

Sounds fun? I just love the vagueness and direness of that agenda.

With that in mind, I was off to Bangalore with a heavy heart. To make things just that slightly worse, I have never been to India in my entire life. The Queen laughed so hard when she found out I was sent because she knows if given a choice, India will hardly be my first choice as a holiday destination.

The flight was fine even though I was seated next to a large Indian man who deem it comfortable to lift his arm over his head and exposing his armpit at me the entire flight but that’s negligible because my nose is stuffed up with all that cabin pressure. I was only truly irritated after I arrived at Bengaluru Airport and I got ‘bullied’ at the Customs counter when this Indian man pushed his entire family in front of my line when it comes my turn to go next. My jaws dropped as the customs officer just casually treated me as invisible and serve the Indian family first after I have waited for my turn for 25 minutes! It was then I realize that I am probably going to be treated like an insignificant amoeba in India. Yellow skin, and worse still, a small girl all by herself.

Lucky for me, that wasn’t true. That Customs incident was just a one-off and for the rest of my trip, I was treated no different than anyone else in India. When I was walking the streets, I get a second look occasionally but otherwise, no one disturbs or avoid me. In fact, everyone politely calls me “Ma’am” here when I get called “Oi” or “Ah Moi” in my own home country!

What I really love about India is the fact that everyone is just doing their own thing and everything works despite there being no obvious rules. I was stuck in traffic about 50% of my time here so I spent a lot of time just looking out at the streets.

A few things I observe from my car window:

1. Every reason is a good reason to honk on the roads. You want to take a turning, you honk. Cars overtake you, you honk. Pedestrians in your way, you honk. Cows walking too slow, you honk. You want to dig your nose, you honk. The noise pollution is so bad that the Indian government has dedicated a few “honk-free’ days where drivers are fined up to 10 rupees (S$0.32) for using their honks unnecessarily.

2. The cows are everywhere! I asked my colleague how come there are cows walking on the street and he gave me an unbelievably straight answer: “Because they need to get to the grass.” That’s right, cows, chicken and people co-exist in Bangalore city and they have as much right to walk the streets as people. Apparently when they develop the urban areas, the rural folks and animals were not told to leave, or change for that matter, so farmers stayed on and kept their animals in car parks and open spaces in the city. If the animals need to graze, they are brought to a nearby the football stadium where there are grass. That’s why they are walking!

3. People are unabashed. Men in business suits will suddenly stop in their track, turn their backs to the busy road and start pee-ing. While that is going on, the Indian women are sashaying by in their beautiful traditional clothes. No matter whether they are rich or poor, they are always dressed so prettily in their vibrant and garish saris and lengahs. Feeding is also so simple here. People will stop at the side of the road, buy a street snack from the hawkers who are openly cooking by the roads, pop the food in their mouth and walk on. The streets are always busy with a mix of autos, buses, cars, bicycles and cows.

Everything co-exists in such an organized chaos.

My company treated me very well during my stay. I was allocated a personal driver to drive me anywhere I want to go. His name is Lokesh and he is such an earnest creature. He is very tall, very skinny, has protruding features and a pair of very large eyes. He always speaks softly and politely, and waits for me with the patience of a saint. He drives like a maniac though, unlike his personal demeanour, but I guess it’s all about survival.

My meeting times were erratic and I feel bad every time Lokesh has to wait for me. I always find him sitting at the steps outside the office wearing a thin brown worn-out cardigan, deep in thought and staring into space. Sometimes I stand back for a bit, just wondering what he is thinking about. I gave him a nice tip on my last day when he sent me to the airport in hope that it will go towards helping him, in a small way, achieve whatever he was dreaming about.

The other Indian person I met who left quite an impression on me is the office coffee boy, Prakash. Again, he was so earnest and is always seeking me out, wherever I am in the office, to bring me mineral water and coffee - just the way I like it (no sugar). It’s funny how he always manage to locate me even though I was all over the office. Maybe he has one of those Harry Potter map showing where everyone is at any one time in the office.

Prakash also started buying my lunch too when he notice that I don’t have time to eat out. Once he brought me orange juice with added sugar. He was upset when he came back to collect the glass to find it still full. He kept asking if it’s because of the sugar which he forgot to omit, and I had to drink half the glass before him to assure him it’s not. (It was, but I can’t let Prakash down!)

Then there was Padmal, my colleague, who was the sweetest thing ever. Such a talented woman - a classical Indian dancer, she oil paints, she does yoga and traditional healing – and best of all, she rides a motorbike to work in her sari. She brought me to my only tourist spot in India, a Lord Shiva temple, and explain all the customary rituals to me. She accompanied me to a tailor so that I can custom make 2 gorgeous sari and even gave me traditional Indian accessories as gifts to go along with them.

Then, there are the folks at the Taj Hotel who always have a warm smile for me. That really helps especially since I spend a lot of time just shacked up in my hotel after a long day at work. The concierge is this tall Indian man who always greet me Madam Frou and talk about the weather. There’s Kiran who mans the gourmet deli and pack my salad every night. There’s Kim the receptionist who went through great lengths to help The Man surprise me by placing fresh flowers in my room. Apparently they have to send someone out of Bangalore city to get the specific type of flowers he wants. The Man was grateful but a little upset when they called him Mr. Frou. Oopsy.

Work-wise, the first 2 days totally exhaust me because I had to talk to a lot of people and I couldn't filter their issues. One of the best advice I got from a colleague is that Indians are just complicated people. They like to complicate things. Everything said has to be taken with a large dollop of drama. So you need to cut away the frills to get to the core. It gets easier after a while and by the end of the trip, I learn how to tune out at the appropriate times. I even adopted some local lingo - I caught myself saying "Tell me" as an opening line. (No accampanying head shaking though.)

All in all, the trip was an eye-opener. It was a very intense week, given what I needed to do, plus the foreign environment but all went well and the Frou completed her assignment (no heads rolled) and came back in one piece.

Let me rephrase. I ate street food, drank local water and came back in one piece. Betel leaf anyone?