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 Is this a reality....? "Why I Left India (Again)"
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Posted on 10-22-11 1:59 PM     Reply [Subscribe]
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I found the following article by indian in Nytimes...
Is this a same case with us or different...????

http://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/10/22/why-i-left-india-again/

October 22, 2011, 2:58 am

Why I Left India (Again)

A car and two bullock carts make their way through traffic in Mumbai.Arko Datta/ReutersA car and two bullock carts make their way through traffic in Mumbai.

The Hindi movie on my “return to India” flight on Dec. 13th, 2006 was “Swades” (literally: “My country,” a story about a patriotic NASA engineer who returns to India to help improve his homeland).

The idea that you can fix India’s problems by adding more people to it — even smart people — is highly suspect. No, I wasn’t going back to fix things; I was leaving the U.S. to go back to Shri Thomas Friedman’s India: an India that offered global companies, continental food, international schools and domestic help; an India that offered freedom from outsourcing and George W. Bush.

I was excited about moving to India and I thought I had the right expectations—after being away for eleven years (I grew up in Mumbai), I was prepared for India to feel less like home and more like the  flight’s “Indian vegetarian meal”: visually familiar but viscerally alien.

Our move was a success by any metric. My wife and I are software professionals, and our careers flourished at an Indian rate of growth (R.I.P., “Hindu rate of growth”). Our daughter attended a preschool in Bangalore whose quality matched any in the Bay Area. Our three-bedroom flat in Defence Colony, Indiranagar, was so comfortable and so American-friendly that my friends called it the Green Zone.

And yet, two years and nine months after our move to India, on one of our regular evening jogs along our impossibly leafy street, my wife and I found ourselves discussing not whether we should return to the U.S., but when.

A month later, we were back in California.
___

Anyone who’s written about India has at some point claimed that there are two or at most three Indias, whether “airplane India” or “scooter India” or “bullock cart India.” Maybe they stop at three because it is difficult for the reader to imagine more.

Early on, all the metaphors rang true. I’d see bullock-cart India beg from scooter India while scooter India was getting honked at by airplane India.

But then the metaphors started to fade and the daily grind set in. I stopped noticing India’s newness, oldness and juxtapositioned-ness. Within weeks, I had joined the honking swarm driving in Bangalore. I knew a guy who could repair anything from my daughter’s talking Barney to our Bose Wave radio. I could sweet-talk an auto-rickshaw driver into not fleecing me (even though I was Kannada-challenged). Everything felt familiar, normal, unremarkable, as it should be; I was in India.

That’s when it started going wrong.

Three months after our return, after a friend told me that his two children were sick with amoebiasis — he thought they got it from their maid — my wife and I designated a separate set of dinnerware for our maids. It’s more hygienic.

Within six months, I’d brusquely refused my driver an emergency loan of 500 rupees ($10) to attend his grandmother’s funeral. I’d learned my lesson after our previous driver scammed me into paying for his son’s broken leg (as it turned out, he had no son). It only encourages them to ask for more; besides, they’re all liars.

Near the first anniversary of our return, I had my first road-rage incident: I verbally abused a hawker who was blocking the road. I’m not going to let bullock-cart India make my daughter late for her school admission test.

The hawker glared but scampered away, the road cleared, and, as I walked back to my car, I saw something new and disturbing in my driver’s eyes: respect. I don’t know how my daughter felt because I couldn’t look her in the eye.

Was this even a real problem? Make your peace; it is how it is.At the end of a long phone call to my mother in Pune, she said, “Don’t think so much. Just work hard and you can get whatever you want.”

But I never doubted what I could get; I hated what I was becoming.

I struggled, I regressed, I improved, I tried learning from others — except so many seemed (to me, not to them) worse off: an offensive Sardar joke here (even the kids laughed), a not-so-subtle inquiry about my caste (I’m still furious with myself for answering), tips on how to keep our maid “in her place” — it just didn’t stop. Et tu, airplane India?

And so it goes.

In any breakup, there is this moment when a person who was a part of you just an instant ago becomes a surrealistically familiar stranger. After that moment, inertia and denial can only delay the inevitable.

On my last night in Bangalore I drank an egregious amount of my favorite takeout Chinese hot-and-sour vegetable soup, and I cried; I knew this second goodbye was final. When I first left India in 1996, I left for the U.S. When I left India in 2009, I left India.
___

Why do I feel better in the U.S.? Maybe it’s not because I’m at home here, but because I’m an alien. Perhaps three thousand years of history have made us Indians a little too familiar with one another for our own good. We’ve perfected Malcolm Gladwell’s “blink” — the reflexive, addictive and tragically accurate placement of other Indians into bullock carts, scooters, airplanes and who knows what else. These issues exist in all countries, but in India, I could see the bigotry in high fidelity and hear the stereotypes in surround-sound — partly because it is worse in India, mostly because I am Indian.

India’s wealth and lifestyle disparity is still impossibly great; I probably spent more on pizza than on my maid. She knew this too, because she was often the one who handed the pizza delivery guy his money. Everyone in India has to deal with this, but I coped in the worst possible way: by dehumanizing her and other people like her, ever so slightly, ever so subtly — chronic amoebiasis of the soul.

Though my return to India failed, I came back feeling more optimistic than ever about India’s long-term success. India is regaining her leadership position — the position she held ever since humans were civilized, a position she lost only because of a few uncivilized humans (at least give us back our Koh-i-noor!). I know India will rule the future. It’s just that I’ve realized — I’ve resigned myself to the fact — that I won’t be a part of that future.

I’m glad I went back to India, and I’m glad to be back in the U.S. Life has come full circle but the center has shifted. I didn’t go to India to find home, but I did find it; I now know where I belong. As Laozi might have said, sometimes the journey of a single step starts with a thousand miles in the opposite direction.

(There was no Hindi movie on the flight back to the U.S. Or maybe I didn’t check.)



 
Posted on 10-28-11 5:09 PM     [Snapshot: 326]     Reply [Subscribe]
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Very good wrting. Applies to nepalis too.
 
Posted on 10-28-11 7:44 PM     [Snapshot: 444]     Reply [Subscribe]
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 Talk about being a snob, who was this guy kidding. Did he expect NOT to find bullock carts and so called 'bullock cart' people in India? That somehow 20 years of uneven growth had suddently catapulted all Indians into high-rises and luxury cars? Or did he think all poor people had been thrown into the Indian Ocean? People who move back go back for primarily two reasons (provided they can make a decent living back home) a) Be closer to family 2) Get back in touch with their roots.

I didn't read anywhere in the article that he hated his job, or his quality of life. He complained about things that are inherently Indian, things about which even SRK can't complain. Of course there will be bustling crowds and some crooks in any Indian town. Would he have blamed it on the States had he been hustled by some dude in San Francisco or had he contracted Swine flu?

I have seen similar tori posers from Nepal too. Crass and uncouth when they came here, now they complain about eating non-organic food, walking, sleeping on the couch and what not. Kunni k k khayo bhane k k allergy huncha re..haha..., Suddenly they've out done the Kennedys in being American...wait its not even American, its straight up posering. You can put lipstick on a pig but its still a pig..

 
Posted on 10-28-11 8:35 PM     [Snapshot: 508]     Reply [Subscribe]
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I hate this writer; yes he wrote honestly.

Hakim, I don't know whom you are referring to; but I got very genuine allergies and it has nothing to do with being american.

 
Posted on 10-29-11 1:09 AM     [Snapshot: 626]     Reply [Subscribe]
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This is response from Chetan Bhagat

http://www.chetanbhagat.com/fancafe/blog/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chetan_Bhagat

 

Chetan's Blog

Happy Diwali (and why I am still here)


 

Dear All,

I have never really reacted to a piece written by someone else before. However, the  “Why I left India (again)”,  (do read this to make sense of what follows) made me want to share my own thoughts.

The well-written article talks about an NRI (non resident Indian), who returned to his country and then found enough reason to leave again. The reasons he cites, probably genuine, seem to revolve around the inability to fit in with certain aspects of the Indian way of life – be it the treatment of servants, the poverty or the traffic rules. In a commendable, bold manner the writer claims he did not like the person he had become in India. Thus implying that in India, we become part of a terrible system and become terrible ourselves. Finally, he and his wife returned back to the USA, where they now live in California.

So why am I reacting to it? Well, I am doing so because I am also a returned NRI. I lived in Hong Kong for 11 years, worked for American investment banks until I finally returned to India in 2008.  Given this, many NRIs often ask me what is it like to return to India. I am usually too busy writing books or columns and never get a chance to share my relocation experience much.  The article above talks about one guy’s relocation (that didn’t work out). I felt I could provide a different perspective, especially to those thinking of moving back to the country.

Please note, I am not offended by the article. I am glad he wrote it. This is something many NRIs feel. Certain foreign media houses love to carry stories about the ‘poor little pathetic India’ stereotype or the ‘real muck beneath the shining India’ stories anyway. After all, everyone has the right to write, express and feel whatever they want.

I am not going to counter argue the points raised in the article. I will simply share some of my own experiences in the situations mentioned in the article. I must also add I don’t  want to come across extolling my virtues. However, it is important people who have read the above piece to get another side of the story as well. So here goes:

 —–

We moved to Mumbai in 2008.  Both my wife and I worked in banking jobs then, and domestic help was imperative given our 3 year old twin boys. We had an older helper who had been with us for a while. She joined us and brought along her young 18-year-old daughter.

I was particular that the young girl does not become a full time maid. She was to help her mother, but essentially help play with the kids and not do hard domestic chores. I saw potential in her, and enrolled her for a basic computer course. This meant she needed to go out of the house everyday. Almost everyone in the house protested. My mother and in-laws, both from a somewhat older school of thought,  didn’t seem too enthused. They felt I was the classic NRI idiot, returned from abroad and now trying to push his modern reform agenda. Even the girl’s mother (our elder maid) didn’t seem that excited but approved it. The girl however was excited and over the moon. They only taught her data entry, but there was a Maharashtra government certificate at the end of it. She started to perform well at the course and soon her mother warmed up to me as well.

Then, the proverbial disaster struck. The girl had a boyfriend from her native place near Bangalore. He came to Mumbai and eloped with her. This was done while she went to her computer classes. Apparently the girl’s mother had opposed the guy for an year. Hence, the girl only saw this as a way out.

Of course, hell broke loose. Everyone in the building mocked me, for sending my servant to computer classes. We didn’t find out about the elopement for two days, and everyone in the house had sleepless nights as we went to various police stations.

Finally, we found out the girl had married the boy. She never spoke to me, but sent me a message that she felt ashamed to have let me down. I was told by my family not to interfere in how servants are managed.

Around the same time, we also had a driver. He was extremely good at his job, and soon the family began to trust him. He used to come to South Mumbai (where we lived) from far sub-urbs and dreamt about moving closer (to a slum, of course). After an year of work, he asked me for around fifteen thousand bucks, to pay the deposit for his new place. I asked several questions to establish veracity, and he gave me reasonable answers.

I gave him the money. He disappeared. I found out later he had moved to Dubai, as he found a job there. Again, my family lashed out on me, given my stupidity.

Hence, you can see that I wasn’t exactly off to a great start in India. Much like the gentleman who wrote that article, I also was told “all of them are thieves” and to “keep them in their place.”

Unfortunately, or fortunately, that is not the person  I am. I cannot assume a person is a thief as default. To me, a person helping me in the house is giving me enormous service. To treat them badly is unthinkable. I hate abuse of power to the core, and yes, many Indians abuse their domestic helpers without even realizing it.

Anyway, the idiot me continued with my welfare approach to domestic help. We moved to Bandra in a year, and our driver then, used to live in South Mumbai. I didn’t want him to quit. However, his commute using public transport would be hard. He asked for a bike. I bought him one. He didn’t run away with it. It’s been over a year. He still hasn’t run away with it.

We had another set of two maids. One of them is another young girl, around 20 years old from a village in Ratnagiri. I told her she has to learn something. She chose English and found a set of classes near the house. Everyone opposed me again. I told her to go ahead anyway. She has joined classes. She has not run away. This morning she said to me in slow but perfect English “Bhaiya, would you like your breakfast”, smiled and I felt it was worth it.

In my house, nobody is allowed to call the maids servants. We call them helpers, the kids call them ‘didis’. There is no question of separate cutlery. They eat what we eat, and are paid enough that they can afford good clothes, soap and shampoo that the hygiene standards are at par with us.

I also found the helpers quite bored in the afternoons. That is when the dissent, negative gossip and nonsense starts. I installed a small TV and Tata sky in their room. My elder folks flipped again. They told me they will ‘sit on my heads’. I ignored them and their barbs. My helpers run my life. I am grateful to them. A TV costs nothing these days, but dramatically improves their quality of life. It also gives me more privacy.

This summer, I even installed a small AC in their room. I didn’t tell anyone at home (for more barbs would have come). I just did it. It’s hot and humid in Mumbai, and they have a tiny room.

My elder maid has kids in Bangalore. Every summer, we call them to our house to live with us. They play with my kids, with their toys. When we go to Bangalore, my kids spend a day in her house. They haven’t fallen sick because of it.  Whenever she wants leave, if it is reasonable, we send her home. Every week, both maids have a day off. Every Diwali, we give them a bonus and a raise, given the high inflation rates. This year, I had a new book which did well, hence the bonus will be bigger.

When a cookery show wanted to feature me in my kitchen (Secret Kitchen), I insisted my maids are featured on the show, as they do my cooking.  Both of them dressed up on the day of the shoot. The episode has one dish cooked entirely by my maids.

Day after tomorrow, on Diwali day, all of us will go see Ra.One together at a Multiplex. My driver will also get tickets for his family to watch it near his house. Altogether, 17 of us will watch the movie. That is what is fun about India. I am fortunate I am able to make a difference to these people’s lives – without it costing me that much.

Yes, the traffic bugs us. It bugs my wife more. She has often told people to stop before the zebra crossing. Her public social crusade sometimes embarrasses the hell out of me. We know it won’t change the country.  However, us being there means another example of how things can be different. Because of me, another friend has bought his driver a bike. Someone else bought movie tickets for their maid. It is still a trickle. Most of India still doesn’t treat servants well. However, it is fun to be part of the trickle. It is nice to imagine that one day this trickle of positive change will become a flood. And that you, in your own little way, had something to do with it.

And this is the most exciting part of coming back to India. To be the ambassador of change in your own world. You don’t have to be a celebrity, authority or a powerful person to effect change. You just have to change yourself, and set an example for others. Slowly, people will see the right path.

Of course, you can also quit. You can take the ‘you bloody Indians’ approach people have taken against my country for decades.  I won’t judge you. I really won’t. I really wish the person who wrote the article above is happy in the USA. I love America, it is a wonderful country that understands creativity, talent, freedom and equality. It has drawbacks, but I look at their positives more. I wish India will adopt many of those positive qualities one day. But until that happens, I don’t wish to quit. I love India too much to quit. I want to be here, till the last servant is mistreated and the last person breaks traffic rules. I want to be here, not to be perfect, but to try my best to not succumb to all that is negative in my country. I want to fight it, for simply fighting it feels good to me.

Meanwhile, on Diwali day, my maids are going to pack paranthas and Mithai for the entire crew so we are not hungry during the Ra.One show. We are going to wear new clothes, watch the movie and have our lunchß. In the evening, we will light diyas in the house, burst crackers with the kids and pray to God. I feel lucky to be in India, for I have spent many Diwalis abroad and no matter how many high-class NRI parties you go to, it just doesn’t feel the same as the Diwali back home. Home, yes, that is what India is to Indians – and will always be – home.

Happy Diwali everyone. And wherever you are, stay happy and stay positive.

Love,

Me.


 


 


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