Hypertrichosis, a rare genetic condition that is also known as Werewolf Syndrome, causes 11-year-old Pruthviraj’s body to be covered with thick, matted hair, reports London’s Daily Telegraph.

Pruthviraj, who is from the district of Sangli, near Bombay, India, is one of 50 people in the world who suffers from the condition, according to the newspaper.

Será un destino que no olvidarás, diferente a cualquier lugar del mundo. Seguro que no te arrepentirás de reservar un vuelo económico a Bombay. Nada más bajar del avión recibirás la primera sorpresa ¡los taxis son carromatos! Aunque esto sólo es así en esta parte de la ciudad. Te hablamos de algunos de los principales reclamos turísticos de esta pintoresca ciudad.

El símbolo más especial de Bombay y lugar de visita imprescindible es la Puerta de la India, un monumento situado en la zona sur, en Colaba. Será interesante conocer la legendaria historia de su arco, testigo de acontecimientos de gran importancia y lugar de paso de cientos de viajeros que llegaban a Bombay en barco. Desde aquí tú mismo podrás embarcar para hacer una visita a la llamada Isla Elefanta. Allí encontraremos cuatro maravillosos templos excavados en roca que te encantarán.

Otra visita interesante es la de los Jardines Colgantes ubicados en la cima de Malabar Hill desde los que se puede contemplar una hermosa vista de toda la ciudad. Será curioso asistir al pintoresco espectáculo de cientos de setos que representan figuras de animales.

Los templos y santuarios son atractivos destinos de visita en Bombay. Uno de los más conocidos es el reciento en el que se halla la tumba del musulmán Hají Alí. Otro templo muy visitado es el de Mahalaxmi del que destaca su cúpula. Se trata del templo más antiguo de Bombay. Además de monumento en sí te sorprenderá el ambiente en el interior y exterior de la Mezquita lleno de fieles y turistas. No te olvides de visitar también el Templo Janaísta diseñado en mármol.

Foto: Meanest Indian.

In The Space Between Us, Thrity Umrigar weaves a story between the lives of Serabai, a Parsi middle class widow; and Bhima, her domestic servant for several decades. Serabai's extremely abusive and controlling husband dies suddenly leaving her to finally experience peace and happiness in her family life. In contrast, Bhima's husband loses three fingers on his hand and is left unemployed and unable to support his family. He turns to alcohol and then leaves her taking her only son with him. Bhima is forced to move to a tin shack in the slums without even running water, electricity, or private bathrooms. Her daughter and son in law die of AIDS in a poorly run underfunded government hospital leaving Bhima to raise her granddaughter.

Serabai lovingly cares for Bhimas granddaughter providing her with an education that is abruptly halted and her life possibly forever changed for the worse.

The Space Between Us goes from bad to worse as tragedy, pain, and hopelessness take over. The really depressing part is that this story is just a snapshot of the real situation taking place in many third world countries as well as India.

I highly recommend this book to book clubs because it is so thought provoking and can lead to some serious conversations and observations. I really look forward to reading additional books by this author. Ms. Umrigar has an unusual ability to breathe her characters to life. Her descriptions are rich, colorful, and full of texture. She does not waste a single word in the entire book.

Under the renewed agreement, TCS will continue to manage Virgin Atlantic's global end-to-end IT systems including a 24x7 service desk, infrastructure and application support services. The company also manages Virgin Atlantic's relationships with other third party IT vendors to ensure a cohesive approach to the airline's IT ecosystem. TCS' service delivery for Virgin Atlantic is designed around IT Infrastructure Library (ITIL) best practices framework. TCS' rigorous metrics-based management model and airline innovation expertise will ensure increased responsiveness for Virgin Atlantic customers.

"Today, airlines need to effectively exploit IT more than ever to be successful in a very competitive marketplace," commented Mike Cope, IT Director, Virgin Atlantic. "Thanks to our ongoing partnership with TCS we have the right partner to enable this."

Mr. A.S. Lakshminarayanan, VP and country manager, UK & Ireland, TCS, added, "Virgin Atlantic's IT infrastructure and services are worldwide and therefore require a partner with a similarly global reach. TCS has established a strong reputation for providing our clients with certainty of outcome in alignment with their strategic objectives and the renewal of our agreement with Virgin Atlantic is testament to our performance over the past three years."

The Travel and Transportation sector is emerging as a key vertical for TCS, generating 4.0% of the company's total $5.7 billion revenues in FY08. TCS launched a dedicated Travel & Hospitality Innovation Lab in 2007 to help airlines enhance customer experience and differentiate themselves in an era of increasing competition and new distribution models.

About Virgin Atlantic Airways Limited

• Virgin Atlantic is one of the world's leading long-haul airlines.
• It flies to 30 destinations worldwide from its main base at London Heathrow and London Gatwick.
• There are 38 aircraft in its fleet, comprising 747-400s, A346 and A343.
• Sir Richard Branson is the President of Virgin Atlantic; Steve Ridgway is the Chief Executive.
• In 2007, Virgin Atlantic carried around 6 million passengers.

About Tata Consultancy Services

Tata Consultancy Services is an IT services, business solutions and outsourcing organization that delivers real results to global businesses, ensuring a level of certainty no other firm can match. TCS offers a consulting-led, integrated portfolio of IT and IT-enabled services delivered through its unique Global Network Delivery Model, recognized as the benchmark of excellence in software development. A part of the Tata Group, India's largest industrial conglomerate, TCS has over 111,000 of the world's best trained IT consultants in 50 countries. The company generated consolidated revenues of US $5.7 billion for fiscal year ended 31 March 2008 and is listed on the National Stock Exchange and Bombay Stock Exchange in India. For more information, visit us at http://www.tcs.com

Yeti really exists in himalyas check it out your self.

The Himalaya Mountains, the highest range on Earth, have been referred to as the "roof of the world." If that is so, there is a mystery called the Yeti in our attic. In Tibetan the word means "magical creature" and truly it is a seemingly supernatural enigma in the shape of a hairy, biped creature that resembles a giant ape.

The Himalayas lie on the border between India, Nepal, and Tibet (now part of China). They are remote and forbidding. Large stretches around these rough valleys and peaks are uninhabited. The tallest mountain in the world, Everest, 29,028 feet high, lies half in Nepal, half in China. It is from Nepal, though, that most attempts to climb Everest, and the surrounding mountains, are made.

In Katmandu, the capitol of Nepal, a visitor finds himself immersed in the Yeti legend. He is a commercial money maker for the tourist industry (there's even a Hotel named the "Yak and the Yeti") as well as legend, religion and fantasy to some of the Neplaese people.

The first reliable report of the Yeti appeared in 1925 when a Greek photographer, N. A. Tombazi, working as a member of a British geological expedition in the Himalayas, was shown a creature moving in the distance across some lower slopes. The creature was almost a thousand feet away in a narea with an altitude of around 15,000 feet.

"Unquestionably, the figure in outline was exactly like a human being, walking upright and stopping occasionally to uproot or pull at some dwarf rhododendron bushes," said Tombazi, "It showed up dark against the snow and, as far as I could make out wore no clothes."

The creature disappeared before Tombazi could take a photograph and was not seen again. The group was descending, though, and the photographer went out of his way to see the ground were he had spotted the creature. Tombazi found footprints in the snow.

"They were similar in shape to those of a man, but only six to seven inches long by four inches wide at the broadest part of the foot. The marks of five distinct toes and the instep were perfectly clear, but the trace of the heel was indistinct..."

There were 15 prints to be found. Each was one and one half to two feet apart. Then Tombazi lost the trail in thick brush. When the locals were asked to name the beast he'd seen they told him it was a "Kanchenjunga demon." Tombazi didn't think he'd seen a demon, but he couldn't figure out what the creature was either. Perhaps he'd seen a wandering Buddhist or Hindu ascetic or hermit. As the years went by though and other Yeti stories surfaced, Tombazi began to wonder if he'd seen one too.

Yeti reports usually come in the form of tracks found, pelts offered, shapes seen at a distance, or rarely, actual face-to-face encounters with the creatures. Face to face encounters never come with researchers looking for the Yeti, but with locals who stumble into the creature during their daily lives.

Some of the best tracks ever seen were found and photographed by British mountaineers Eric Shipton and Micheal Ward in 1951. They found them on the southwestern slopes of the Menlung Glacier, which lies between Tibet and Nepal, at an altitude of 20,000 feet. Each print was thirteen inches wide and some eighteen inches long. The tracks seemed fresh and Shipton and Ward followed the trail for a mile before it disappeared in hard ice.

Some scientists that viewed the photographs could not identify the tracks as from any known creature. Others, though, felt it was probably the trail of a languar monkey or red bear. They noted the tracks in snow, melted by the sun, can change shape and grow larger. Even so, the bear/monkey theory seems unlikely as both of these animals normally move on all four feet. The tracks were clearly that of a biped.

Shipton's and Ward's reputations argue against a hoax on their part and the remoteness and height of the trail's location argues against them being hoaxed.

Shipton's footprints were not the first or last discovered by climbers among the Himalayas. Even Sir Edmund Hillary and his Sherpa guide, Tenzing Norgay, on their record ascent to the top of Mount Everest, in 1953, found giant foot prints on the way up.

One of the more curious reports of a close encounter with a Yeti occurred in 1938. Captain d'Auvergue, the curator of the Victoria Memorial in Calcutta, India, was traveling the Himalayas by himself when he became snowblind. As he neared death from exposure he was rescued by a nine foot tall Yeti that nursed him back to health until d'Auvergue was able to return home by himself.

In many other stories, though, the Yeti hasn't been so benign. One Sherpa girl, who was tending her yaks, described being surprised by a large ape-like creature with black and brown hair. It started to drag her off, but seemed to be startled by her screams and let her go. It then savagely killed two of her yaks. She escaped with her life and the incident was reported to the police, who found footprints.

Several expeditions have been organized to track down the Yeti, but none have found more than footprints and questionable artifacts like scalps and hides. The London Daily Mail sent an expedition in 1954. American oil men Tom Slick and F. Kirk Johnson financed trips in 1957, 58, and 59. Probably the most well-known expedition went in 1960.

Sir Edmund Hillary, the same man that had first climbed Everest in 1953, lead the 1960 trip in association with Desmond Doig. The expedition was sponsored by the World Book Encyclopedia and was well outfitted with trip-wire cameras, as well as timelapse and infrared photography. Despite a ten-month stay the group failed to find any convincing evidence of the existence of the Yeti. The artifacts they examined, two skins and a scalp, turned out to belong to two blue bears and a serow goat.

At the time Hillary and Doig wrote off the Yeti as legend. Later, though, Doig decided that the expedition hadbeen too big and clumsy. They didn't see a Yeti, he agreed, but nor did they observe such animals like the snow leopard which was known to exist. Yeti Mandir in Himalyas.

After spending thirty years in the Himalayas Doig believes that the Yeti is actually exist. the three animals who attack in himalyas are  the first is what the Sherpas call the "dzu teh." Large shaggy animals that often attack cattle. Diog thinks this is probably the Tibetan blue bear. A creature so rare it is known only in the west through a few skins, bones and a skull. The second type, called "thelma," is probably a gibbon (a known type of ape) that Diog thinks may live as far north as Nepal, though it's never been spotted past the Brahmaputra River in India. The third Yeti, "mih teh," is the true abominable snowman of legend. A savage ape, covered with black or red hair that lives at altitudes of up to 20,000 feet.

So far there is no firm evidence to support the existence of the Yeti, but there is no way show that he doesn't exist either. If he indeed lives in the barren, frozen, upper reaches of the Himalayas where few men dare to tread, he may find his refuge safe for a long time to come.

For Gyandotcom by Rohit Sharma

The play started bang on time. Ruskin Bond on stage (not the real Bond, someone playing him), the play began with a background of Bond's childhood in the hills and how he parried through the tormented times of Indian independence, world wars and communal riots going on the adage, "When the wars are over, the butterflies will still be beautiful".

The play was a mélange of short stories by Bond, narrated by the protagonist Ranji, who is on vacation in his grandfather's house in Mussoorie. His friends in the hills, Koki, and her horse Dhanno, Suraj and his romantic interest Charmaine, would take me through a journey through space and time. Short stories I have read, pranks I have played (and still play), and dreams I have dreamt (and still dream) all come to life in a span of one and a half hour. There is a princess, and a leopard, and ghosts and pahalwans, and bears and guavas and lakes and buffaloes, and snakes: the mishmash seamless. Once or twice popular media is also thrown in.

Acting, direction, lights, costumes, I can't say much. Maybe, some other day, I would have criticized them for shabbiness and lack of originality. But then, the moment had me chained. Teleported and transfixed, I laughed with the five year olds, and felt happy at the little joys of life.

Restaurants are now suing newspapers for bad reviews claiming "defamation" and loss of business. But how should authors respond to bad reviews? Should they just be thankful for the publicity? Should they get into a slanging match with the reviewer and hope for the best?

Should they, as Shobhaa De, the author of "Superstar India" has done, get personal?

De's latest book has got a poor review in India's leading English magazines, India Today and Outlook. India Today's reviewer tore into the book calling it "the worst thing she has written" and said its subtitle "From Incredible to Unstoppable" made him wonder if it was commissioned by the ministry of tourism. Outlook's reviewer called it "quite mediocre" and said it read like a "teenager's diary". Etcetera.

But De, former editor of the film magazine Stardust (and the shortlived Celebrity), and the woman who has won titles such as Sultana of Scuttlebutt and "Maharani of Muck" with aplomb, goes below the belt in response.

In an interview with Arathi Menon of Deccan Herald today, De is asked of the unkind reviews that have greeted the book in India. Her response?

"The particular review you are referring to (in a leading magazine) is a personal attack on me. The person who wrote it is a wife-beater; a freeloader; a frustrated has-been and a menace to society. There are other ratings that have already put the book on the best-seller list. So do I really care about that interview?"

As the pioneer of bitchy page 3 journalism, Shobhaa De of course doesn't name the reviewer or the publication, but if the reviewer/s had given a good review of the book, would De have been enlightening the world with such vengeance in public?

Is the reviewer’s past or present relevant to the debate at all? Or should she be answering the criticism of the reviewer?

Photograph: cortesy Newsline, Pakistan

Read the India Today review here: De turns into night

Read Shobhaa De's interview here: 60 years young

Also read: Singer Sonu Nigam accuses reviewer Subhash K. Jha of "sexual assault"

How India is building their new bypass in Bombay

Jai Bhim!

Please share this information to right person.

CERTIFICATE IN SOCIAL WORK in Mumbai,India
The Centre for Lifelong Learning at the Tata Institute of Social Sciences (TISS), Mumbai announces a one-year part-time Certificate Course in Social Work that will be conducted from Monday to Thursday from 5.30 p.m. to 7.30 p.m at TISS. The Course Duration is from June 23, 2008 to April, 2009.

The Certificate in Social Work is a certified course of the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, a Deemed University. Detailed information about the Institute may be found on its website: www.tiss.edu

This one-year part-time Certificate Course in Social Work is offered to those who cannot engage in full-time study in professional social work education. This Course is also in response to the need for more frontline workers for direct service delivery in social development and welfare organizations.

The Course Content is as follows:
Basic Courses (Compulsory)

• Work with Individuals and Families
• Work with Groups
• Work with Communities
• Social Development
• Human Growth and Behaviour
• Communication Skills for Effective Social Work Practice.
• Field Practicum

Optional Courses

• Early Childhood Education
• Youth and Development
• Non-Formal Education
• Gerontological Social Work
• Working with Women

For further details and application:

Call: 022- 25563290-96 ext: 237/682/681/ 680
Email: stp@tiss.edu; extramural@tiss. edu; sabiha_v@tiss. edu; nasreen_r@tiss. edu
Website: www.tiss.edu
Postal Address:
Centre for Lifelong Learning
(Ms. Sabiha Vasi/ Prof. Nasreen Rustomfram/ Ms. Bhargavi)
or
Short Term Programmes Section (Section Officer)

Tata Institute of Social Sciences
Deonar, Mumbai 400 088

The total Course fee is Rs. 8,765/-

The last date for receiving application forms is June 13, 2008.

Warm Regards,

Dinesh Dalvi,

PA, USA.

Thereafter, something connects. Instead of going out and around Matheran, we begin to spend more time here. The door opens to a small balcony, from which a staircase leads down to a lawn, unkept and wild. Monekys come and steal cigarettes, as we sit and smoke idly. A friendly neighbour from the next hut comes and tells us, how he came here for his honeymoon twenty-five years back, even before we were born. We smile, and run after the monkeys. The boy from Malad, who is the only staff here, serves us tea as the sun kisses the Ghats. In the evenings, the owners (Nancy/Maria/ Joseph Vaz, as their business card reads) bring their horse and run it in circles, its white mane flows and hooves thump the earth. We play table tennis in high breeze, barely able to keep the ball on the table...

In a span of twelve hours Matheran changes colour, the lights dim out early, the streets become filled with foreigners who have had a day-out in some hilly trail. The horses bow their head after a day's toil. Their masters bring in grass and hay and massage their legs, as atonement of their sins. Few couples giggle, as they bargain with the bangle sellers.

However, I never stepped out of Hope Hall to see any of this. I slept the best I did in my life, in that little big hut, sixteen hours straight.

The miracle of Matheran: Hope Hall.

Matheran is basically a steep plateau, surrounded by the oldest hills India, with water trickling down its slopes, to meet in a large distant lake way down from where we are standing. We climb down the edge to a recess few metres below the top and tourists. The sun is behind us, and burns the rocks we are staring at, in the darkest shades of red. There is a cool breeze, seemingly trapped in between stony walls, blowing on our face. We don't talk. If footprints of time is visible anywhere, it is all around us. Time, and its brute force.

We took a horse back to the town. We were hungry and needed a place to dumb our satchels. We were covered with a layer of redness that we badly needed to wash. The bag on our shoulders made it difficult to ride, for we were misbalanced. My horse is called Shaktiman, and my friends, SSS(Sahebo-Shah-Sahenshah). I make small talk with the guide about the horses, where they were bought from, how long they live, what they eat, and where they sleep... Back straight, look straight; rein low in hands, trot-trot-trot...

Three hours worth in sand, we come back to Hope Hall Hotel. We go in. The same lady is sitting on table. Smiling at our red selves. My friend tells her we need to stay. She says the room has been taken, and there are no double or single bedders left. We ask if there is any dorm or anything like that. She says she can let us in a 5-bedder, provided we don't even sit on the bed. We are happy and take the keys.

"Don't even sit on the bed"

"Never. And thanks, Ma'am"

"Don't call me Ma'am. I am Maria "

I go in, no one inside. Empty chairs, a scrapbook on the wall, and lots of photographs. My eyes wander along the scrapbook, which has postcards from people who have visited this place and liked it. My friend, meanwhile, comes back, after checking out the place. He announces, "No one's here!" and goes on to ring the bell. No answer. I keep on reading the scrapbook; there is a list of the pets in the Hotel and the train time tables, and a brief history of Mathrean, some sketches also. My friend keeps on ringing. When I reach the bottom of the wall, there is a note, "Please do not ring the bell more than once." I smile.

We were about to leave, when a lady, in her late forties, in a shirt and jeans, with a high ponytail, and smelling of alcohol, steps into the room.

"What do you want?"

My friend tells her, we want a room. She is visibly irritated. He calls a boy, younger than us, to show us a room.

We follow him, he lead us to a small two roomer. Outside there is a courtyard, a girl( pretty attractive) writing her journal on a wooden bench. Fresh green and pristine brown.

The room itself is small, the attached bathroom surprisingly big, almost as spacious as the room itself. Click on the lights, flush the loo, look out of the windows, sit on the bed, stand up, walk out, and latch the door back. Back to the reception.

We tell her that we like her place and would like to stay. However, we would like to check in after 12(we didn't want to pay for one more day). She was pretty upset and told us, "Out rooms are not of that kind. They don't wait for anyone." Profound! Seeing no line of logic would reach her, we step out in to the roads again, hoping we will find another hotel for sure.

This platform offers two alternatives: either we can take the train, which meanders leisurely over the slopes of Western Ghats piercing the canopy of dense deciduous forests, or we can take the jeep, on share, which takes the highway to the nearest village of Dasturi Naka and we can trek the rest (some 11km). Jeep is cheaper, jeep is faster. We (the two of us) climb on, both of us cramped in the front seat of a Maruti Omni. The nondescript journey takes us a few metres higher, and few kilometers closer...

We buy a ticket to the hallowed summer resort, the find of Hugh Poyntz Malet, the district collector of Thane, circa 1850. Walking into the ochre and haze shrubbery in early morning lights one suddenly dates back some hundred years. Tanga rick wallahs come promise you to carry across the 11km stretch to Matheran market. Horses are also there, looking tired and despondent, ruminating and waiting. We decide to walk, the path (keeping in mind, we are just two hours from the bustling Bombay), is suspicious desolate. Chiaroscuros, in mauve and sap greens, guide us through pebble and redstone dirt.

The suspicion is not unfounded, a man in his late thirties, wearing a moustache and checked shirts and cotton pants, joins us, form behind the cedars. Tells us about the short-cuts and the prices of horse rides, and chikki shops in markets, and inquires how long we will be around. A day or two, maybe three, not too sure. Frowns. Where are you put up? Come to Hotel Such-and-Such, we have lounges, hookah bars, disco... We scoot!

Martheran Market: chikki shops (chikki, being the specialty and highest export of the place, find its way to any discussion you have with locals here), south Indian hotels, north Indian hotels, hawkers selling chappals, a lounge bar, beer bar, park, banyan trees, horses, smell of horses, horse dung, monkeys, some more hotels, and we are out of the Matheran Market.

Matheran is a small place (though the horse-ride sellers says it is 300 miles), and remarkably easy to go around. Wherever the lanes forks, a sign reads out where it leads it to. Both the lanes equally red and dusty, both pock marked with hooves, both equally empty, equally inviting...

Wenn man das jetzt liest, fragt man sich, warum es so viele Reisende gibt, die Mumbai als laut, dreckig und schäbig emfpunden haben. Wie wir heute beim Frühstück übereinstimmend feststellten, sind das eigentlich immer die Leute, die in Mumbai ankommen und vorher noch nichts von Indien gesehen haben. Wenn man keine Vergleichsmöglichkeit hat, weiß man ja nicht, wie gut es einem geht. Andererseits ist natürlich auch in Mumbai nicht alles Friede, Freude, Eierkuchen. Die Stadt hat angeblich den größten Slum Asiens, durch den man praktisch stundenlang fahren kann, wenn man die Stadt mit dem Zug verlässt. In dieser Hinsicht dient Mumbai als Sinnbild der Geteiltheit Indiens. Superreich und superarm leben eng beieinander. Und zugegebener Maßen, wer wohnt schon im Einkaufs und Partyviertel, außer uns Touristen? Das 'richtige' Mumbai, da wo man wohnt, liegt wohl eher richtung Norden. Wie es da aussieht, weiß ich nicht.

Aber genug von diesem politisch korrekten, Diplomatengewäsch! Meine beiden großen Ziele hier sind noch als Statist in einem Bollywoodfilm mitzuspielen und die Clubs der Stadt auszukundschaften. Ich halte euch auf jeden Fall auf dem Laufenden!

On the 24th of April, 2008 at 9:30 in the morning four bulldozers and 200 odd policemen with guns and sticks barged into Nehru Nagar Slum from the backside and demolished approximately 700 – 800 houses, rendering 3000 people homeless. The residents of Nehru Nagar were completely caught unaware as none of them were even prepared for such an event and the bulldozers did not give them any time to collect their belongings.

In the process several residents were injured both due to the collapsing walls around them and also due to beating of the police. Many elderly and children have been left mentally traumatised. One such, a 75 year-old man, Yusuf Khan who was discharged from the hospital just a day prior to the day of demolition after a hip surgery and has been left homeless and on the road.

Six days after the demolitions took place one four year old child died due to the extreme heat.

It has been two weeks since the demolition and there is absolutely no respite for these people. Not only are they still living in the rubble that used to be their home, without their basic amenities, but they are also constantly being threatened to be evicted from the temporary structures they have build to save themselves from extreme heat.

More details, pictures, a poster and a list of demands are online in pdf here.

Squatter City warned about looming evictions in Nehru Naga in January this year. That entry is here.

anil chauhan podcast

Anil Chauhan: Mein kuch banoonga jaroor

He couldn't get the lug nuts to turn. I told him to try standing on the lug wrench. That is what i do, bounce on it with all my weight. I showed him how, but the lug wrench fell off. It was stripped clean and smooth on the inside, and couldn't hold the corners of the lug nuts. Close by was a taxi that had just dropped off passengers and I sent him to ask the driver for his lug wrench and he came back with it and the driver also. I sat on a small step near the foot path and took photos as the other driver changed the tire. Look at the tire in the last 2 photos. You can see where the rubber has split.

Anil Chauhan's brother is getting married. Anil got married last year. The older sister is already married. A younger sister is yet to be married. Two sons, two daughters. Two dahej dena and two dahej lena. Does it come out even? Click on the link below. (1 min 55 sec)

outtake dahej

This was one of the taxis that has separate driver and passenger seats in the front and in between them a silvery pole from ceiling to floor with lines etched on it that snaking up the length to form diamond patterns. Most taxis dont have them, either the separated seats or the pole. It was also one of those taxis that has mirrors on the ceiling, a larger one over the back seat and a smaller one over the front seat. and a green or blue florescent light between them. Someone told me that they heard that it is in these taxis that lovers can ask a driver to park and walk away for awhile while they enjoy some masti. No driver has confirmed this. In these photos I am shooting up into the mirrors.

In the Dahej outtake above, Anil describes himself as from a choti jaat. I asked him about relations between barra jaat and choti jaat in his village. Listen to his answers. (2 min 37 sec)

outtake jaat

Aside from the poles and the mirrors and one of my favourite seat cover patterns, this taxi had my favourite gear shift knobs. I love the the rainbow colours and the plastic rose fully blooming inside. And the grapes hanging from the rear view mirror. At night they flash different colours from the tiny lights inside. Watch the video to see the flashing and even more for a wonderful image of Anil in the rear view mirror.

Villages have large deep wells that the young boys splash around in. Anil said he goes to Juhu Chowpatty to catch the breezes. But has he ever gone swimming in the sea there? (27 sec)

outtake swimming in sea

The rear window of Anil's taxi has Ganapati large holding a diya and hugging a Shiva Lingum. But dont miss the words in english on (our) left rear of the license. No what? Why not?

Anil feels that if one can drive in Bombay, one can drive anywhere. And for him, driving is what will enable him to provide for his family and fulfill his dreams. People have commented that the drivers don't have very 'big' dreams. Some have found that sad. But what better dream is there to fulfill other than being able to provide for one's family and give your children a better future than your present? Don't most parents have that dream? What is it then that some people find sad? The difference in increment? (28 sec)

outtake driving for life

And what about these dreams? A room. A flat. In Bombay our dreams always contain that anxiety of somewhere to live. That particularity of Bombay: the disquiet about a room for one's own. (1 min 26 sec)

outtake_roomsoom

By the time we reached Bandra, it was dark. My point-and-shoot has trouble in low light and I don't like flash. I was trying different settings. One was a long shutter speed in my shaky hands. But the photo is interesting.

Anil Chauhan was 13 when he left home. He left school after 8th class. He has worked selling fruit, making brushes in a small workshop unit, carrying water on his head and now driving taxi. He has been back and forth from UP to Bombay to UP to Bombay over and over. But what advice would he give to a 13 year old who asked to come with him back to Bombay? (42 sec)

outtake advice

I take their phone numbers and I always give mine. We stay in touch usually. This is Anil's diary as he looks for a page to write my number.

The intro music in the podcast is the song Boombai Nagari from the movie Taxi 9211, sung by Bappa Lahiri, Merriene , Nisha and Vishal Dadlani.

Music by Vishal Dadlani and Shekar, lyrics by Vishal Dadlani and Dev Kohli

So this is the last and final part!

And if you're wondering about the haircut read The Mumbai Chronicles!

On July 26th, 2005 Bombay witnessed the heaviest rainfall ever. Well, if not so, it was enough to submerge the streets and concentrate people in high-lying railway platforms, bus-stops etc. We, three friends, were victim too. I wrote this reflective account after few days. It was first published in this blog.

Sometimes or should I say more than often, I doubt my existence. I know I do exist physically and at least some people can corroborate the fact, but this is not the evidence that matters to the world at large.

Recently, when Mumbai was marooned and transport network was at disarray, we were stranded at Dadar station. There, crowd was huge and every single square feet was occupied. The restroom, the platform, the foot-over-bridge, the single express train that remained canceled, all places were saturated. The floor everywhere was wet because of the incessant cat and dog rain, and the restless-uncertain and aimless feet. People were roaming, standing or if fortunate enough leaning against the wall, column or anything that stood still. Outside the station, water had rose waist high which could be worse a little far. People from Mahalaxmi, Chuchgate, Parel and other small stations had already gathered here before water soared critical level. Commuters had the general idea of the locality and did not bulge out of the safe place. True, platform is one the safest places in India even in usual days, barring the railway officials and guards who may wish to earn some easy money and occasional thieves. Numerous nights I have spent on platforms, reading books and remaining clutched to my belongings at the relatively unused part of it. That night there was no such luxury.

I realised that I was lost in the tiny world, that I did not matter to anyone except myself and that my stay was meaningless and for my own survival, as the rest of my life had been. I was running our of patience and the nightmare was seemingly never ending. Of course, Richard Dawkins was true, I (or my genes) was/were ensuring my/their own survival and I was no different. Oh..something pricked at my conscience....why should I, at the first place, wish to be different ? I am one of them, as selfish and social as anybody else suffering in the nature's fury at the "human-shade"-Dadar. I was also looking for some dry place to rest on, and jealously kept it occupied as others had done. Advertisement hoardings, featuring beautiful celebrities and models had been beds for tired working people, but wasn't that my idea just did not materialise because we were good boys ! So why was the longing to be different ? Did I solicit attention, or heroism or at least stand out in the crowd? Obviously not that big. I only wished special privilege for myself, to get back to ***, to have a good night's sleep. Alas, I was not lonely in thinking so.

I could not breathe more, the compartment of the only train standing was suffocating. The filthy odour form the toilet has filled it, which was frequently being used. I sprung out of the precious little space we shared in the upper berth and rushed out of the train. "Prabin...Prabin" cried out Ranjeet, "panch hi baje he ek ghanta our sut le". His voice was suggesting he was too struggling to catch forty winks. I could not stop. Ambivalence had made me impassive. I knew i could not be assured of my existence, the individuality was lost and only names and faces were floatin.....

Mit durchschnittlich 7°C weniger als in Hyderabad, lässt es sich in Mumbai - obwohl man hier mehr schwitzt - ganz gut aushalten.
In Hyderabad sind mir übrigens zwei Dinge besonders aufgefallen: Zum einen, dass vor 10 Uhr morgens nichts geht und die meisten Leute noch zu schlafen scheinen (dafür ist dann aber bis 22 Uhr alles geöffnet), zum anderen eine für Indien sonst untypische Pünktlichkeit. Zwei mal ist es mir passiert, dass mein Bus auf die Minute genau nach Plan abfuhr. Mein Weltbild ist erschüttert!
Auf dem Weg von Hyderabad nach Mumbai habe ich gelernt, dass auch Fliegen Zeit kostet - nämlich durch den langen Weg zum und vom Flughafen. Alles in allem hat es mich dann doch ca. 5h gekostet!
Als ich abends mit dem Zug vom Flughafen nach Mumbai hineinfahre, quellen die Wagen in die Gegenrichtung schon über. Noch bevor ich realisiere, dass sich meine Bahn ihrer Endstelle nähert und ich aussteigen muss, höre ich geschrei, getrampel und sehe voller Entsetzen eine Welle Inder, wie eine keifende Sturmflut aus Ellenbögen, Schultern und Armen über unseren Zug hereinbrechen. Mir wird klar, dass ich, wenn ich mein Gepäck nicht schnell zusammenpacke und festschnalle, und einen festen Stand einnehme, einfach von der Strömung mitgerissen werde und hier nicht mehr herauskomme. In meinen panischen Bemühungen meine Rucksäcke aufzusetzen, schmeiße ich meine Gitarre auf den Boden, schaffe es jedoch, entgegen meiner Befürchtungen, unversehrt aus dem Wagen. Den Adrinalinstoß hätte ich eigentlich nicht gebraucht!
Eine ähnliche Situation hatte ich schon einmal im Bus nach Trichy erlebt, als die neuen Passagiere schneller einstiegen, als die alten ausstiegen. Ich weiß noch, dass es mich einiges an Kraft und Ellenbogeneinsatz kostete auszusteigen.

Heute jedenfalls spaziere ich so durch Mumbai und komme am 'Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya' (ehemals 'Prince of Wales Museum of Western India') vorbei. Die Ritter vom 'Ni' (The knights who say 'ni!') lassen grüßen!
Das Gebäude ist von Außen so schön, dass ich spontan beschließe es zu besichtigen, sollte ich mit meiner abgelaufenen NUJS-ID-Karte und den Registrierungspapieren vom FRO den Inderpreis von 15 RS zu bekommen.
Ich habe Erfolg und bin einfach nur verblüfft und erfreut. Ich hatte schon mit der Enttäuschung gerechnet, die indische Museen bisher immer für mich waren: unsortierte, unorganisierte Sammlungen angestaubten Ramsches, völlig ohne Erklärungen. Das Museum kommt mir - vielleicht wegen der bisherigen schlechten Erfahrungen - gut genug vor, um selbt mit deutschen Museen mithalten zu können.
Der deutsche Audioguide ist der beste seiner Art, der mir je untergekommen ist! Dieses Museum hat meinen Tag gerettet!
Anja sieht das übrigens ganz anders, aber sie hat auch noch nicht den ganzen Mist gesehen, der mich bisher davon abhielt in Museen zu gehen. Wenn ich nur an die verottenden Tiere in den Vitrinen in Kolkata denke!

Mittagessen gibt es in einem Subway-Clon für Falaffel und Hummus. Ich fange an Israelisches Essen zu mögen!

Abends treffe ich dann noch Shivangi und Savya. Beide machen gerade ein Praktikum in der Stadt, haben aber ein wenig Zeit für mich übrig. Von Savya bekomme ich dann noch seitenweise Insiderinformationen und Tipps zu Mumbai. Sieht so aus, als würde ich wieder unsummen in Essen investieren ;-)
Morgen treffe ich Poulomi, die auch gerade hier ihr Praktikum macht.

Kyla and Aishwarya asked me if I could list some of the gaalis that I have heard women give to lecherous males in the crowded trains of Bombay. I can think of three right now:

1. Macchi-waali on the bridge. Some fool thought that he could cop a feel since she was carrying the basket. He forgot the tongue. For better effect, this is said in Marathi.

"Tuzha lav*yat ghaat ghaaleen." (translation: I will put a knot in your dick).

The guy knew she meant it and figured it is better to say sorry and escape.

2. Woman getting off the train. Imagine the crowd. Push and shove.

"Arre haath kya lagata hai. Har aurat ko apna Maa samjha hai?" (Translation: why the f*** are you touching me? You think every woman is your mother?) (okay the f*** was not really said but creates a nice effect, no?)

3. The third was an unusual preemptive strike on the macchiwaali's part. She is on the platform waiting for the train with her basket full of fish. This guy looks at the basket and then at the woman. She doesn't like it. Pulls a macchi out of the basket and asks the guy in Marathi -

"ghaalu kai re ...... gaan*eet?" (translation: should I shove it up your a**?)

Maybe she was just playing but then again when she asked, it sounded like she meant it.

I love Bombay.

and this is part 2:

(part 3 coming tomorrow)

Som sagt, jag klippte mig. Det blev jättefult. Frisören var duktig men han ville inte riktigt klippa sig som jag trott. Jag ser nu ut som en dålig version av Posh Spice eller Jessica från Arlöv. Ni får själv bestämma. Halvlång lugg och skitkort i nacken. Inte snyggt nånstans. Orkar inte riktigt bry mig och gör istället en indisk huvudrörelse. Ska förresten filma den rörelsen och lägga upp så alla fattar. Plus att jag ska importera den och sprida den i Malmö, Sverige, Europa, Världen. Tänkte iaf klippa om mig där hemma istället.

I fredagskväll la jag mig i sängen...och blev liggande. Har sovit och sovit, fastat pga mahsjuka, haha jag menar magsjuka. Har sett klart Entourage plus ngn film, haft feber, clearance med gruppen och ätit chips. Köpt en ny mobil med nr för ca 200 kr, testat den sjuka ficklampan som är inbyggd i mobilen och skrattat och insett att jag nog behöver glasögon.

Vaknade idag klockan 7 och var pigg och frisk. Helt underbart. Strax blir det frukost på Basilico med gruppen men innan dess så får ni mitt nya nr:

+91 98 67 45 22 01

Ce 21 mars, en pleine Semaine de la Presse et des Médias à l’École et de la Francophonie, Typo, le multimédia lycéen académique, sort son 8° Typo Extra Muros "Bombay : couleurs, contrastes, le possible à portée de rêve", publication de 68 pages couleurs, consacré à l’Inde.

> Téléchargez le magazine (PDF - 6 Mo)

> Téléchargez le sommaire du magazine (PDF)

> Lire les article sur typomag.net

Sommaire du magazine

Mumbai, des vies

20 millions. C'est ce qu'on estime être le nombre d'habitants que compte la ville et son agglomération. Mumbai, car c'est comme cela qu'il faut l'appeler depuis 1995 est et une des villes les plus peuplées au monde et accueille 200 nouveaux habitants par jour. Pour mieux comprendre ce gigantisme, les rédacteurs français et indiens, se sont baladés dans les différents quartiers, ont flairé les odeurs et livré leurs impressions. Du quartier des pêcheurs à la bourse en passant par le bidonville, ils ont suivi le mouvement frénétique des trains et des taxis, à la rencontre des Mumbaikars.

•  Village des pêcheurs. Un sourire, la mer et tout revit
• Quartier des affaires. Mumbai, le New York indien ?
•  Train. La maison sur rails - Course contre le temps
•  Taxi. Le blues des « taxi-wallahs »
•  Humeur de Mumbaikar. Les incontournables de Mumbai
•  Profession Dabbawalla. Mon déjeuner au bureau, midi sans faute
•  Bidonville. Slum Tours, un business qui marche
•  Bidonville. Plus belle la vie à Dharavi
•  Fondation Akanksha. Des classes pour apprendre et devenir
•  Urbanisme. Plus on est de fous… plus on planifie !

God save… Gandhi

Il y a soixante ans, l'Inde devenait indépendante. Parce que l'histoire s'oublie vite, retour sur plusieurs siècles de domination britannique, et sur des combats pour l'indépendance à travers ces habitants de Mumbai qui portent les traces de l'histoire malgré eux, et ceux qui cultivent le souvenir.

•  Lutte pour l’Indépendance. Souvenirs de vétérans
•  Indépendance. Une cérémonie pour les combats d’hier et d’aujourd’hui
•  Les Anglo-indiens. Choisir son sang
• Gandhi. « Grand Âme »
•  Histoire de Bombay. Une ville de commerçants et de migrants
•  Asiatic society. Une mémoire survivante ?

Démocratie sous tension

On dit de l'Inde, compte tenu de son milliard d'habitants, qu'elle est la plus grande démocratie du monde. Héritière des institutions britanniques et de la tradition hindoue, le pays doit gérer des tensions frontalières avec le Pakistan, combattre des attentats et des mouvements d'intolérance interne.
Le pays est également tiraillé entre ses tendances fédéralistes et séparatistes, entre la tolérance et les tensions communautaires... « L'Inde est une anarchie qui fonctionne ». Cette formule de l'ambassadeur et économiste américain John Kenneth Galbraith, datant des années 1960, souligne les contrastes particulièrement marqués de l'Inde.
Petit panorama des dossiers qui fonctionnent et de ceux qui sont plus délicats.

• Amnesty International. L’Inde est une démocratie, même si…
• Attentats. 18 h 24, terreur sur Mumbai
•  Presse.  Libre, diversifiée... heureuse !
•  Politique. «Les disciples de Gandhi» Vs «L’armée de Shiva»
• Polémique. Bombay ou Mumbai
•  Cachemire. Srinagar, une jeunesse partagée - Un paradis sur terre

À l’épreuve du Monde

L'Inde va vite, l'Inde investit. Il y a vingt ans, l'Inde évoquait Mère Teresa, la pauvreté, les accidents de bus ou les charmeurs de serpents. Aujourd'hui, on parle de logiciels, d'ingénieurs et de concurrence. Tout cela n'est pas dû au FMI ou à la banque mondiale, mais au dynamisme des entrepreneurs indiens et à leurs sociétés, Infosys, Tata...
Dans le même temps, l'Inde connaît des tensions parce que les campagnes ne bénéficient pas de cette croissance. C'est donc une Inde à deux, voire plusieurs, vitesses, avec une richesse incroyable et beaucoup de pauvres, qui doit relever le défi de la mondialisation.

• Crise du coton. Des vies qui ne tiennent qu’à un fil
•  Agriculture. Terre nourricière, terre de labeur
• Economie. Bientôt le boom ?
• Luxe. Louis Vuitton et viennoiseries
• Rencontre. Pour Nadir Godrej, le monde ne suffit pas !
•  Arcelor-Mittal. La mondialisation à l’envers ?

Séance Bollywood

Le cinéma indien, un des premiers du monde en terme de productions, est varié. Les cinémas de Mumbai (anciennement Bombay), de Chennai au Sud ou de Kolkata à l'Est possèdent chacun leurs caractéristiques et leurs langues.
Le terme Bollywood ne représente pas tout le cinéma indien mais seulement les films populaires en hindi qui sont fabriqués à Mumbai. A côté de cette imposante machine, difficilement, un autre cinéma tente d'exister.
Entrez dans Bollywood, un monde de stars, de Blockbusters (grosses productions), de figurants. Un univers en changement et pour sûr dépaysant !

•  Cinéma. Bollywood impose sa loi - Ne jamais dire au revoir
• Rencontre. Shreyas Talpade, star montante
• Star system. J’ai été figurant à Bollywood
• Bollyworld et la mondialisation. Nouveaux héros bollywoodiens
• Au-delà de Bollywood. Un autre cinéma existe !
•  Rencontre. Rashid Irani, cafetier et critique ciné

Clichés choisis

Mais qui ils sont, ces Indiens qui fascinent l'Occident ? Mosaïque de cultures et de langue, de castes et de religions, pas toujours évident de s'y retrouver dans la diversité. C'est depuis Mumbai, échantillon composite de l'Inde, et c'est avec de jeunes Mumbaikars que nous tentons de comprendre ce qui rassemble les Indiens. Une question demeure non élucidée : comment font-ils pour rester fascinés pendant des heures devant les matchs de cricket ?

•  Identité. Indien jusqu’à l’os
•  Mode. La tradition résiste
•  Musique. De Brahma à Bollywood
•  Langues. Le sancrit et le pali, deux langues pétrifiées
•  Langues. Entre traduction et modernité - De Babel il fait son miel
•  Palais indien. Au délice des épices - A cup of tea ? - Au délice du Bétel
•  Cricket. Un sport décolonisé

Société en débat

Lassés des rituels qui perdent de leur sens, mais n'ayant pas envie de couper les ponts, les jeunes Indiens vivent une époque charnière. Entre deux mondes, entre deux codes, il est difficile de trouver sa place. Toute la société s'agite en sentant le cadre changer. Au quotidien dans les familles et dans l'intimité des couples, des petites révolutions témoignent de la métamorphose. Débats de jeunes, débats de femmes, chacun cherche sa place.

•  Quotas, castes et polémiques - Casser les castes - Bhimaro Ambedkar
•  Statut de la femme. Couple, mariage arrangé, contraception…
•  Sida : informer pour faire tomber les tabous - La loi sur l’avortement
•  Prostitution. Corps à vendre, vies brisées. Gaytitude. C’est mieux caché

Prières…

L'Inde est un état laïc à majorité hindoue. À côté de cette religion la plus répandue, les musulmans, les parsis, les sikhs, les jaïns, les bouddhistes...trouvent leur place... Impossible d'en faire un inventaire exhaustif, ni de leur donner dans nos pages la place que méritent toutes ces religions.
Pourtant, le sentiment religieux est très présent au quotidien en Inde. Le sacré s'invite dans les foyers et accompagne chacun au marché, au travail, sur les routes...
À commencer par Ganesh, l'incontournable pachyderme mumbaikar.

• Ganpati. Des éléphants dans les rues
•  Ganpati. La naissance d’un dieu éléphant - La préparation des statues
•  Hindouisme. Être Hindou, la quête du bon karma - La vache sacrée
•  Hindouisme. Prière électroniques - Si Ganesh m’était compté
•  Cohabitation religieuse. Sikhs, musulmans, parsis

Extra Mumbai

• Shingnapur. Le village sans portes
• Nasik. Ville sacrée
• Nasik. Capitale du vin indien
• Mousson. Respirez