Would you like me to arrange your marriage?

Today I received a wedding  invitation. It said...

We cordially solicit the honor of thy noble presence

Love it!

So this got me thinking again about arranged marriage. Before coming to India and really taking the time to understand it, I thought arranged marriage was outdated and ridiculous. But now having spoken to a few people who have had arranged marriages I know think the idea has some merit and here is why.

Arranged marriages do not let feelings get in the way of making the life altering decision of who to marry. When arranged thoughtfully marriage usually takes place between the children of two families that know each other or through a person who knows the two people involved, recognises the compatibility and makes the suggestion. It seems that these marriages work and work well. The couple sets out with the same family and religious values then develop a deep respect and then ultimately love for each other.
Of the few couples I have met the prospective bride and groom have had the opportunity to meet for coffee or the like so they have a little understanding of the other person and then get to say yes or no based on that meeting.
At one of the weddings I went to I was told that the groom had asked his father to find him a wife and had left it entirely up to him. When questioned on this he simply said 'I trust my father'
Not all weddings here are arranged. I have been to two weddings that were 'love matches' whispered behind the hand. I don't know why this is so whispered about… everyone at the wedding knows what's going on.

Don't get me wrong not all arranged marriages end in happily ever after. At my previous apartment our downstairs neighbors were an older couple and their son and his wife of less than a year. I met the young wife a couple of times. She seemed nice and I got the impression she may have been a little opinionated and headstrong… though I could be wrong. So one day our front door was open, as was theirs, and we heard an enormous row. They knew we would have heard it…awkward. If only I understood Hindi. Anyway, after that day we never saw the new bride again and there was a big dirty rectangular mark on the wall where their wedding photo used to hang.

Interestingly the divorce rate in India is very low. Only 1.1% I wonder if this is due to arranged marriages based on similar values or because marriage is in fact a commitment for life.

I am not to sure about the arranged marriages that are organised via matrimonial adds in newspapers and the like. They do seem to place importance on matching class and religion but I don't think you can really have as much insight into whether a good match can be made without a matchmaker who knows both the parties involved. I must admit I do quite enjoy reading the matrimonial section of the paper. Such an eyeopener. Here is a selection from different periods over the past hundred years… how values have changed-

1930's- Seeking handsome, healthy, virgin girl.Western fashioned, highly educated need not approach.

1960's- Seeking family with connections and a  groom in government service.

1980's- Seeking fair, tall, homely, and convent educated girl (speaks english)

Today- Delhi based reputed Gupta Medico family seeks alliance for their beautiful, fair, smart, slim daughter 23/5’5 MBA (U.S.), pursuing CPA from US, and working in respected bank in US. Looking for tall, handsome, below 28, well placed professional. Preferably qualified Medico. Match from Status family only“.

Of course there are the ones that are downright hilarious as well… sorry I mean no disrespect but I have to share…

hello.... My name Arthi..... I am a good characterized woman. I want to run my life happily. I expect the good minded and clean habits boy to marry me soon.... who may be in the same caste . If anyone want to Marie to me u can visit to my home

Hello, To Viewers My Name is Shekhar , I am single i don't have female, I am not a good education but i working all field in Bangalore.. if u like me u welcome to my heart...when ever u want to meet pls visit my resident or send u letter.. Thanks yours Regards Shekhar

I want very simple girl. from Brahmin educated family from orissa state she is also know about RAMAYAN, GEETA BHAGABATA, and other homework (Homework?)

Wants a woman who knows me better and can adjust with me forever. she may never create any difficulties in my life or her life by which the entire life can run smoothly. thank you

She should be good looking and should have a service. she Should have one brother and one sister. she should be educated.

I am a happy-go-lucky kind of person. Enjoys every moments of life. I love to make friendship. Because friendship is a first step of love. I am looking for my dream girl who will love me more than i. Because i love myself a lot. If u think that is u then why to late come on ........hold my hand forever !!!

I am simple boy. I have lot of problem in my life because of my luck now i am looking one gal she care me and love me lot lot

I want a girl with no drinks if she wants she can wear jeans in house but while stepping out of house she should give respect to our cast

THE 3 THINGS I AM LOOKING FROM A GIRL ,THEY ARE 1.THEY MUST BELIEVE IN GOD.2. THEY HAVE TO LIKE MY PROFESSION AND THEY SHOULD NOT GET BORED WITH ME WHEN I WILL TRY TO MAKE THEM LAUGH.

Whatever she may be but she should feel that she is going to be someone bride and she must think of the future life if she is too like this she would be called the woman of the lamp. (What the?)

My name is muhamad and i am unmarried. please you marriage me please please please please please please please

I want one girl who love me or my mother. she love me heartily or she have frank she's skin color 'normal' not a black or not a whitey. I Think the main think is heart if your heart is beautiful then you are beautiful. but iam not a handsome guy or not a good looking. but my Mom say that Iam a good guy. My father already expired . THE CHOICE IS YOUR. bye bye.

My color is black, but my heart is white. I like social service

I'm looking out for who lives in Bombay, girl simple who trust me lot should be roman catholic, LOVE ME ONLY.

"I am sick." "I have Chickungunya" "No, I didn't make that up"

Well, we managed two and a half years without being afflicted with any mosquito born viruses. Unfortunately this year our luck ran out with two cases of Chickungunya and a mild dose of Dengue.

The first one in our family to bite the dust was Hunter. She woke early one Friday morning with a raging temperature, a strange rash all over her body and joint pain. Despite feeling so unwell she was determined to go to school for 'International Day' So I kept her home for the morning and we would go to school just for the International Day performance.
At around midday we head downstairs; Hunter looking very unwell. I sit her on the wall outside out house and look for a cycle rickshaw to take us the two kilometres to school. Then she vomits all over the driveway and says she feels much better now. So I run upstairs to get a face washer and clean her up… yes she still wants to go despite regurgitating an apple and some red drink all over the driveway. After dispersing the pile of red vomit with a bucket of water I flag down a rickshaw and we hop in. A few hundred metres into the journey she leans out the side and vomits again… that's it we are going home.
So I get her back home and onto the lounge. Now she says she is feeling heaps better and if we leave now we can still make it… her temperature is nearly 104 (40c) but she is determined. So we head back downstairs, she sits on the wall why I try to flag down another rickshaw. A second later she calls out and says she is not feeling so good and doesn't thinks she can go. So we head back in the gate towards the house. As I turn from latching the gate I see Hunter face down sprawled over a couple of pot plants… she has fainted (In hindsight it looked quite funny. I am tempted to ask her for a re-enactment so I can get a photo). So I go to her aid and she comes to asking 'where am I? I don't remember coming in the gate." I prop her up on the bottom step and survey the damage: bruised cheek, huge bleeding graze on her thigh, cut on her neck and a broken earring. I think it's time to head to the hospital.
Ray was on his way home at the time so we waited on the steps. He carried Hunter to the car and we head to Max Hospital in Saket.
Let me just say this hospital is fancy-shmancy. Great service, super organised and efficient. I would say it is as good as any private hospital in Australia. So we make the rounds with our dedicated personal orderly… emergency, observations, paediatrician, blood test and then home. The paediatrician offered to admit Hunter for a night due to the fainting spell but really it wasn't necessary. The whole adventure cost around $70… bargain.

Later that afternoon we called the paediatrician to get the blood test results… It was not Dengue, probably another viral fever such as Chickungunya. This is good news as Dengue, though very similar to Chickungunya, is a little more complicated due to the platelet issue and the potential to develop a haemorrhaghic disease causing internal bleeding and potentially (though not often) death.

So the next morning another one bites the dust… this time Ray. Same fever, rash and the crippling joint pain.

A few days later Hunter is back to normal except for some lingering joint pain which causes her to hobble around like an old woman. For Ray the joint pain takes a little longer to subside. This is the nature of Chickungunya, the older you are the longer it takes to get over the arthralgia. It can take well over 6 months.

The night before I am due to fly to Australia I develop a bit of a headache behind the eyes. I know what causes this kind of headache… Dengue Fever. The next morning I am up a 4am to get a taxi to the airport. The skin on my back feels strangely sore and sensitive and the headache is still there. I manage to get thought the next 17 hours of travel and layovers while feeling just a bit off. When I get to the in-laws house in Sydney I see the characteristic Dengue rash. Blah.
I am quite fortunate really, I never actually get the fever or the bone breaking pain. In fact 80% of cases of Dengue are asymptomatic.
So I spend my first week in Sydney feeling headachy, sensitive to touch and fatigued. And every morning I wake up with the itchiest hands and feet… so weird. Despite feeling like crap for most of my trip home it was still worth it.

I am just so thankful we all got through it all relatively easily.

A Room in Delhi

It is a fairly typical room; four walls, large open doorway, windows. Nothing out of the ordinary. The floor is tiled and dirty; dust, grime stains of all kinds.There were windows on three of the walls. One looking outside and the other two looking into identical rooms on either side. The windows, like the floors, were dirty. Covered in grime and dried splatter from unknown liquids. The walls were plain… no paintings or art, just years of scuff marks and two silent air conditioners hanging above the windows. The room did not contain much, just 6 beds and 6 rusted out side-tables with locker doors hanging from their hinges. The beds were in equally bad repair. Tubular metal frames which were once painted white but now the paint was bubbled and blistered as rust broke through and stained the frames a dirty beige. On one of the beds the tubular steel leg had rusted right through and the bed sat on a funny angle. Each of the beds had a thin vinyl covered mattress in various states of repair; ripped and stained with various forms of human excrement. Some of the beds had sheets, most of which looked as though they had been slept on many times by, I'd imagine, many different people. The beds had no pillows or blankets. Not enough to go around. Three of the beds on one side of the room were occupied. The first by the window by a man surrounded by many visitors. Funnily he did not know how to use his mobile phone. Whenever it rang he had the screen facing out and struggled to hear what the person on the other end was saying.
The middle bed was occupied by an unconscious man who was hooked up to a very battered looking oxygen tank. He had no visitors and no attendant to help him.
The third person in that room was Murari, the person we were there to visit. He is one of the boys from the ashram that we work with and at 16 he has had one of the hardest lives of anyone I have ever known.
As you have probably guessed by now this room is a hospital room. But not a hospital room as you probably know it. The nature of this room considering it's purpose did not surprise me; nothing much in India surprises me anymore. Even the fact that when the hospital meals are delivered to the patients they do not come with a plate or cup does not surprise me. There are no nurses to look after you and no buzzers to press for help. If you do not have a family member to look after you, you might lie in that bed and not have another person look at you for days let alone attend to your basic needs.
When Murari arrived in emergency he was put in a bed with 2 other people. Astounding isn't it? But sadly this is the nature of public hospitals in India. Another sad fact is that it's not likely Murari will receive a diagnosis for whatever this illness is that is turning him into an emaciated sack of bones and is sucking the life out of him. What do you do?

A whole lot of bull

Ray was away speaking at a conference a couple of months ago and while he was there someone told him about the problem excess bulls here in India. Who knew bulls could be such a problem? I have never really considered before and I found the whole thing quite amusing.

As you are probably aware cows are considered holy in India as it is believed to be a symbol of the earth - because it gives so much yet asks nothing in return.

The cow is revered as the source of food and symbol of life and should never be killed. Hindus do not worship the cow, however, and cows do not have especially charmed lives in India. I often see them eating garbage off the street and sifting through garbage at waste depots. In fact the other week I heard of a cow that died being cut open and inside was a multitude of undigested plastic bags that it had consumed while ferreting for food.

Anyway back to the story of cows and bulls…The five gifts of the cow are milk, curds, ghee butter, urine and dung. All of these are all used in hindu worship. The milk  nourishes children as they grow up, and cow dung is a major source of energy for households throughout India. Cow dung is sometimes among the materials used for a tilak- a ritual mark on the forehead. Most Indians do not share the western revulsion at cow excrement, but instead consider it a useful natural product.

So what about the bulls? Well they are not quite as revered as cows but they are still not to be killed (it is illegal to kill cows and bulls in all but two states in India) . The occasional bull is useful as a stud and others as beasts of burden; pulling carts and the like but mostly they are useless. So basically bulls are left to roam the streets. Ray was telling me that the people to whom the male calves are born try to dump them far from where they live but they always find there way home. The sight of homeless bulls is commonplace in Delhi, in fact when I drive Hunter to dance class at a nearby school twice a week there are two bulls that loiter in the traffic and I often have to navigate my way around them. They seem innocuous enough and I have never personally had and problems with cows or bulls even when having to walk past them in a confined area but I have heard that they can charge and trample.
 

I will end on an amusing note. I was shopping at a market in Old Delhi one day when I saw a cow in a shop. Usually when I see a cow entering a shop I see a shop owner shooing it out. However this particular cow was just hanging about. Then it lifted its tail and I saw a shop owner dive to put some paper on the floor where the poop would land. Not that is did much good as the cow was not likely to have a good diet in that part of town so green goop splattered down its legs and all over the floor. Good times! 

Electricity. Shocking, isn't it?

So yesterday I called the butcher to have some meat delivered… like you do. But as it happened my phone was plugged into the desktop when I made the call. Now our butcher speaks pretty good english so we don't usually have any problems understanding each other, however this time I had huge trouble communicating as my phone kept intermittently zapping my ear… and it hurt… a lot.

Electric shocks are a regular occurrence for me here in India. Last night I was thinking it over and I would say I get a good zap at least once a month. In fact two weeks ago I had a doozy… I was ironing name tags onto Sam's clothes for school when my hand brushed the edge of the metal pate of the iron. It was not the heat that stunned me, it was the surge of electricity running through my fingers and up my arm which jolted all my arm muscles leaving an ache for quite sometime.

Now as a kid I was never one to be curious about what it would be like to touch an electric fence. But now I am pretty sure I know what it would feel like. My worst electric shock occurred while we were living at the ashram. I was all set for my shower but when I turned the taps on no water came out. So I thought someone must have turned off the tap that lets the water into the hot water geyser. So I went to turn that tap and when my hand latched onto the knob it was shocked so hard that I could not let go I had to step away to pull my hand free of the tap… not good. In fact the whole hot water geyser thing freaks me out a bit. A friend told me  that once while she was having a shower she felt like little pins were stabbing her all over. The water was electrified. In fact people have been know to die from this.

We have a Mac desktop computer with an aluminum casing. Now the number of times we have all coped a shock from this thing cannot be counted. So after a couple of weeks of being zapped I did some googling… apparently a common problem. The solution is to wear rubber soled shoes or keep your feet off the ground. And as I recently learned do not wear wet flip-flops.
So why do Mac computers electrocute us here in India and not in Australia? Well if you go outside your house to the fuse box you should see a metal rod hammered into the ground with some wiring attached. This is what earths your house and prevents you from being electrocuted when you use your toaster. Here in India, more often than not, they don't bother earthing houses thus we humans become the earth connection and receive electric shocks.

Ray has just asked me about my current blog topic and said I should add that he has been on the phone and yelled in peoples ears when he gets zapped… this is true, I have witnessed it… good times :)

I was reading an article in the paper a couple of months ago that had some statistics about accidental deaths in India. Car accidents are by far the leading cause (13 people die every hour on Indian roads), but electrocution was surprisingly high too. It came in third after road deaths and then murder. I tried to find that article today so I could refer to it in this post… no luck, but there were hundreds more.

Here are a few of the headlines from the past few months...

• 7-yr-old gets electric shock at Vashi mall
• Restaurant staff electrocuted
• Villager dies of electric shock, road blocked
• One succumbs to electric shock at theatre
• Electric shock kills domestic help
• Boy suffers electric shock at school
• Senior Pak diplomat dies of electric shock
• One electrocuted, several electric shocks at school function
• 9-yr-old dies of electric shock while sleeping
• Man electrocuted while hanging clothes to dry

So basically no activity here is safe… not even sleeping.

Driving in Delhi ~Ray Vs Louise~ Why I win

Ray and I often argue over which of us is the better driver here in Delhi. I specify here in Delhi as it is totally different to driving in the cities of Australia.

I could simply sum up the argument by saying- "Side-swiped truck, nudged motorbikes, bent rickshaw wheels, knocked pedestrians with side-mirrors and a broken cow leg".

And me?…. nothing.

Don't get me wrong, Ray is a good driver and he has the valid argument that he spends more hours driving than I do thus potential for more incidents. But this is not the only argument. The real fact of the matter is we have two very different driving styles. I am an offensive driver (and I don't mean rude) and Ray is a defensive driver. Defensive driving works fine in Australia and is probably the preferred method when 99% of the time people stay in their lanes, check their blind-spot and use their indicators. But this is not the best strategy here. In Delhi you have to drive offensively. You have to expect that everyone is going to change lanes without indicating, cut you off and step into traffic without looking both ways.
In Delhi driving is like playing chess you have to anticipate everyones next  move, not just your own. You need to know when to leave space to pull out from behind a car that randomly stops and when to close the gaps so people don't push their way in.

When it comes down to it driving in Delhi is a hassle and I would much rather be a passenger and let grandpa Ray side swipe other vehicles than have to drive myself. I should also take a moment to mention I can't stand it when when Ray is my passenger… he is the worst back seat driver ever. I pity Sam and his future driving lessons. Several times when I have been the one driving I have just about stopped the car and kicked him out. His commentary has become a little worse lately after an incident where he witnessed a body fly over the car in front of him and land on the road. I understand that this would make you (and me) more careful. The only thing is now when I am driving I am sure he thinks every pedestrian is going to jump right out in front of me and that I experiences a moment of temporary blindness. Ah well...

So when you come to visit let me know and I will come and pick you up from the airport ;)

Mussoorie- The highs and lows

We left Delhi at 6am on a Sunday morning to drive the 6+ hours to Himalayan Torchbearers to drop the kids at camp and then on to a one week break in Mussoorie.

Day 1

The Lows
Screaming profanities at another driver who tried to cut in front of us at a toll gate. I won.

Side swiping a truck after being sandwiched between said truck and motorbike. No need to stop and exchange details. Nice ding in rear passenger door coupled with some deep gouges in the paint work.

Running out of petrol on arriving in Mussoorie… not too much of a low as we happened to be driving downhill the time and managed to cruise the 2 kilometres straight into the petrol station.

The Highs
Spotting a billboard for a water fun park called 'Drizzling Land'  Still makes me giggle.

Passing a newly built housing community called 'Wonder Estate' Made me wonder who the hell would want to live there.

Watching an amazing electrical storm and hail from our hotel room overlooking the Doon Valley

Day 2

The Lows
Being interrogated at breakfast by a roomful of Indians (30ish), wanting to know where I was from how long I had been in India and where in Delhi I lived. It's a wonder they didn't ask my bra size.

Taking a wander down mall road with half the population of Delhi and seeing market stalls that sell all the crap that is sold in the boring markets of Delhi.

Eating a funky tasting piece of chicken in the soup I had for lunch

The Highs
Discovering a cool lil antique shop which sold Indian antiques as well as stuff from the British- The British used to occupy Mussoorie in the summer when they ran the country. On a side note when the British occupied Mussoorie they had the hide to erect a sign that said 'Indians and Dogs not allowed:

Dinner with friends at a really cool cafe called the Clocktower Cafe

Day 3

The Lows
Waking up at some hideous hour with explosive watery Diarrhoea. The likely culprit the funky tasting piece of chicken in previous days soup.

Waking at 7:30am and having to run to the toilet approximately every 15 minutes for several hours

At 11am started to dry reach without success. Felt like death warmed up.

The Highs
I am not sure if this is a highlight but I am now completely comfortable in existing without toilet paper. The high pressure butt hose in the bathroom got a workout.

Bucket showers- Sitting on a lil stool with a bucket of warm water and scooping jugfuls of warm water over me. I am a convert.

Eating litchis, mangoes and peaches when I felt I would be able to hang onto it.

Day 4

The Lows
Burning the clutch on a seriously steep hill start in our crap car

Driving behind Delhi drivers who don't know how to hill start or drive safely on winding mountain roads

The Highs
Visiting Woodstock School

Enjoying good food at Chaar Dukan and taking in the amazing views from Landour

Day 5

The Highs
Picking up the kids from camp

The Low
Driving back to Delhi on bad roads and hideous traffic…. At least I got to see 'Drizzling Land' again.