Yoroshiku Onegaishimasu!

Walking through dimly-lit back-alleys of Kyoto, looking for a place to eat, I chanced upon what seemed to be a hole-in-the-wall izakaya. I wasn't entirely sure what to expect as I walked in to the room. In many ways that feeling sort of sums up my experience in Japan until then. After deciding to stay on for a week, all alone and armed only with a guidebook and my repertoire of a smattering of Japanese phrases, things had turned out unexpectedly well and I was hoping that this night would be no different.

For what seemed like an eternity, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, waiting to figure out the protocol for ordering in this place. The izakaya that I happened to pick that night seemed like the kind of neighborhood joint where everyone knows everyone else. No one would have had any trouble picking me out as the foreigner in there. Soon enough I exchanged smiles with the proprietor. Unfortunately, most introductory Japanese speaking lessons cover only formal introductions of the kind "Hello, I am XYZ. Pleased to meet you!"; not entirely appropriate for this location so I had to make do with lots of smiling and prefacing everything I said with a lot of "please" and "thank yous". I proceeded to order some sake after convincing the proprietor that I did indeed want sake and not beer in spite of his repeated insistence. As it turns out, the sake was delicious, and went very well with the bowl of snails that were placed in front of me.

I spent the next few minutes enjoying the sake while impolitely overhearing conversations of the neighboring customers. I didn't feel terribly bad about doing this since I barely understood what anyone was saying anyway. I managed to rationalize it by thinking that it was good practice for learning a little more Japanese to add to my limited vocabulary; an educational eavesdropping experience of sorts. And then finally, and fortuitously, I met the only person in the place that spoke some English, and very good English at that. As it turns out, this person had traveled all over the world in her 20s and had been to some of the places from back home that I was familiar with. All conversations between me and the proprietor were now funneled through her and she didn't seem to mind playing the part of the interpreter. In due course, everyone in the place wanted to chat and I didn't really feel alone in there anymore. Soon I was being offered sake by the other customers and laughing out aloud while trying tons of delicious and tasty snacks, most of which were offered on-the-house after some gentle prodding from one of the customers.

As the night wound down, I knew I had just a tad bit too much to drink, but not so much that the short walk to the place I was going to spend the night would prove to be challenging. I am glad that I decided to try out the izakaya, while rejecting the guidebook advice of seeking out a 'foreigner-friendly' place. That night, like all the others spent in Japan was extremely memorable. I can't wait to be back!

The Indian Middle-class

A newly proposed definition of what constitutes a middle class in a developing country, seeks to only consider those that earn at least 10$ a day, after excluding the top 5% of the richest people in the country. Shockingly this would mean that India would have no middle-class. One could argue with how the figure of 10$ was arrived at, but I can't help being shocked by the level of disparity in incomes between the reasonably well-off and the vast multitudes of the poor. It's going to take more than a few cosmetic 'on-paper' laws to turn things around.

Religious encounters of the strange kind

I don't think about religion on a daily basis. If anything, I would describe my self as agnostic leaning towards atheistic. But more than anything else, I think religion is an extremely personal matter, and I'm all for the cultural aspects of religious celebrations (for the most part anyway). As far as religion is concerned, I'd describe myself as "don't care", which made a recent encounter that I had all the more odd.

I was walking home, when I saw a couple on the sidewalk. I had a fair inkling of what they were doing when I noticed that the person walking in front of me had to weave his way through the couple, vigorously shaking his head as he walked by. The man (one half of the couple) would almost block your path thereby forcing you to listen to him. He had a book in his hand and a extremely-wide-and-therefore-creepy smile plastered on his face. Predictably he stood right in front of me. I noticed that both the man and the woman looked fairly young, probably in their mid-thirties and spoke with thick Asian accents. The conversation went something like this,

Man : Hello! Are you christian?
Me : No
Man : Are you Jewish?
Me : No
Man : What religion are you?
(I was tempted at this point to just walk away, but I didn't I'm not really sure why)
Me : Hindu
(I was a little surprised by my own answer. I think that the bottom-line is that I didn't really want to discuss my beliefs with a random stranger on the street. What happened next is the bit that I found really odd.)

Man : "Oh ... Have a nice day!"

This exchange left me a little baffled. I wonder what he was trying to do.

Hypothesis 1: He was actively trying to convert people away from Christianity/Judaism
Hypothesis 2: He was actively trying to convert people to Hinduism
Hypothesis 3: Either way, he didn't want to spend anymore time on the conversation

I'm not quite sure what to make of it all.

Winter

A single icicle juts out in front of my window, dripping slowly in the bright sunshine. Spring is just around the corner. I carefully make my way down the sidewalks covered in snow, soon to be packed into an uncrossable sheet of ice. I can't help thinking that winter this year has been worse than the last. My gloved hands return to my coat pockets, still stinging gently under the light wool. The trees are still bare; the colors of fall a many months away. For now, I wait patiently for warmer weather, for spring and then summer. Until then I pray that we've received the last heavy snowfall for the season.

Of Gut-Wrenching Poverty

Life in India is full of contradictions, as any visitor to the country will tell you. For someone living in India, however, reconciling these contradictions is essential for survival. It is hard if not impossible, to be faced with crippling poverty on a daily basis and not feel an overwhelming sense of sadness and guilt.
My home state of Maharashtra was recently contemplating changing the rules so that taxi permits would only be issued to persons who had lived in the state for at least fifteen years and can "read and write marathi (the local language)". The move is primarily aimed at keeping migrant workers from poorer states from acquiring local jobs. In a country where a vast number of people are illiterate, where we have failed to provide our poorest and most vulnerable sections of society with a minimum standard of living, where large sections of the population go hungry, this is what the Government imagines up. Perhaps we should soon expect a set of minimum qualifications that all of the urban poor must meet if they want to subsist amongst the more affluent. The irony is not lost on me.

The films of Louis Malle and India

Louis Malle is a wonderful filmmaker. Each of his films, that I have had an opportuinity to see, have been magnificent (Au Revoir Les Enfants, Lacombe Lucien, Le Souffle au Coeur, L'Inde Fantome, Calcutta) and I highly recommend them all. The last two in the list deserve special mention. L'Inde Fantome (Phantom India) and Calcutta are documentaries that were filmed in the late 70's in India, and they paint a startling, enchanting and at times disturbing portrait of India 40 years ago. If, like me, you have had a chance to see modern day India, these films might give you a new perspective on India's development in the past few years.

Two Movies and Some Fiction

What follows is another random bit of writing. Everything here is pure fiction, more or less anyway, that I was almost compelled to write after a couple of movies that I recently saw - "One Day You'll Understand" (Plus Tard) by Amos Gitai, and "The Class" (Entre les Murs) by Laurent Cantet. I highly recommend them both.

Its just another evening, no different from any other. A night out with friends, at the local pub. We've had a couple of rounds of beer each. "Nowhere close to my limit yet", I think. I excuse myself and head off to the restroom. My feet momentarily falter. Im almost surprised that im that drunk already. So much for my ability to hold my alcohol. By the time I've converted two pints into litres, and then calculated 5.7% of that, Im already back at the bar. One last draught and the glass is empty. "Just one last pint for the day, and then Im done", I decide. Drinks are ordered. Everyone seems happy. I look accross at a friend. He has a silly smile on his face. He's busy telling us how much he loves us. I smile. I turn back to my other friends. They are busy having a heated discussion about something. I can't really make out everything they are saying... but occasionally, I hear platitudes, I hear the same arguments repeated over and over... old wine in a new bottle ... except no one seems to realize that its the same old bottle. Im not sure if its the alcohol or just me, but I don't care. Im comfortable. Im happy. Its great to be out with friends.