Outsourced

Madhuri from the TV show Outsourced... worth a watch

The other day I got to see what it is really like on the inside of an infamous Indian call centre. I was expecting some crazy loud place with all sorts of hoohaa going on and about a million people working there. But this was not the case, at least not in this particular call centre. It was a small, quiet place with about 30 cubicles sparsely furnished with just a computer and a phone on the desks and no pictures on the bland walls.

As it turned out, the reason I thought I was there was not the real reason I was there for at all. It all started when a linguistics company put out a call for Australians in Delhi to take part in a training session teaching Indian call centre workers to understand the Australian vernacular. They were to send a taxi to pick me up and drop me home and would pay me a reasonable amount for my time. So I thought, why not.

So I rock up to the building that housed the call centre and I go through some crazy security. All phones, iPods, cameras and memory sticks have to be locked in a locker and bags are left in the security office… I guess they don't want me nicking the data from all their calls to Australian households at dinner time.

So I meet the person I am to be working with and I am given my 'script'. Basically it is one of those typical questionnaires they run through over the phone when you are actually doing a survey, the only difference is my survey had all the answers filled in. At this point I am thinking something fishy is going on. I am given a run through of all the questions, the set answers and how to answer questions that require more than a yes or a no answer. Finally, I am told to be myself and answer the questions as any Australian would...Okay.

I am then taken to a small room outside the call centre and handed a mobile phone. A man is with me to supervise my 'performance'.
The phone rings and I answer it. I feel like I am back in Australia receiving a typical survey call from an Indian call centre. The person on the other end says his spiel, including the line 'this call may be recorded for training purposes' by now I know I am not here to educate call centre workers in the understanding of the Australian vernacular.
So, the survey is underway and I spend about half an hour answering the questions, as instructed, getting the occasional thumbs up from my supervisor. By the time the survey is over I have a few possibilities forming in my head as to why they need me to do this… all are dodgy-

Recreating lost recordings
Making up data
Skewing data to suit a purpose
Or, were they not able to get anyone to answer such a long-winded boring survey so they had to make it up?

Frankly, I though it best not to ask any questions; firstly because of all the security and secondly because I wouldn't mind being invited back… not because I want to be involved in dodgy dealings, just because I am intrigued and I could do with the cash.

I have so many thoughts and questions but I doubt any will be answered…
I wonder how many other Australians in Delhi have participated.
I imagine I am getting paid more for my 1 hour of work than the call centre workers are paid for 2 or more days. Is it really worth it for them to pay me a relatively large sum for a half hour recording?
I wonder what the Australian company that commissioned the survey would think if they knew? Do they know? Does this happen all the time?

A few hours later, back at home, I get a call. They left off one of the questions from the survey off the script, could they record it now? Sure. They tell me what to answer and ask me the question. I answer and they hang-up.

Well okay then

First world problems Vs Third world problems

I was stretching before my run around Lodi Gardens yesterday morning and I said to my friend that I was sick of my running playlist on my iPod. And my friend says… ahh, first world problem, my latest is not being able to open the sauce packets at McDonald's.

So this got me thinking about some of my first world problems and how ridiculous they are… lets put it into perspective.

Wondering if I am going to have the stamina to do my 6k run in 35 (95) degree heat.

Cycle rickshaw rider wondering if he will have the stamina to ride people around all day in 35 degree heat so he can feed is family.

Feeling exhausted after an hour driving through hideous Delhi traffic in my big air-conditioned car, avoiding all manner of obstacles including, cars, pedestrians and cows.

Feeling exhausted after begging all day in Delhi traffic while trying to avoid being hit by cars.

Calling Subway to get dinner home delivered only to be told they had no delivery boys today and I will have to pick it up.

Wondering if there will be any food for dinner.

Having no clean cups in the kitchen because it's the maids day off.

Being a 13-year-old enslaved maid locked in an apartment for two weeks while the employers are overseas on holiday. Please read this link and sign the petition.

It looked like rain so I had to race home to bring the washing in.

It rained and all worldly possessions are saturated

Went shopping at an outlet store but had to leave earlier than I would have liked because I was hungry and couldn't concentrate.

The Indian subcontinent has nearly half the worlds starving people.

Thinking that traveling across Delhi to earn $30 for 2 hours work is not worth my time.

Earning $30 a month for 2 hours of work/per day.

And now I am lost for words... something to think about.

Hanging with an elephant

Elephants would have to be one of my favourite animals. Their sheer size and unusual features make them something special. Living in Delhi I probably spot an elephant in traffic maybe once every two or three weeks and I don't think I will ever get tired of seeing these amazing beasts. So when friends of ours, that live in our neighbourhood, said they were hiring an elephant for their daughters birthday I jumped at the opportunity to go and hangout with it and of course go for a ride.

The elephants name was Rupa and she was 45 years old. She was such a beautiful creature all painted up with blue and yellow chalk designs. She seemed like such a gentle giant but I was well aware that elephants can go on a rampage after the slightest startle.
It's funny the things you notice when you can get up close and feel their rough skin. I was standing next to her for a photo, she was crouched down on the ground and it was a little disconcerting feeling this huge rough ear flap against my back.
We fed her peanuts; first we had to hold up the peanuts so she could see them, then she would hold her trunk in a way that we could drop them in and then she would then toss them into her mouth.
She drank a couple of buckets of water, draining half a bucket with one slurp and the squirting it into her mouth.
Climbing up onto her back for a ride was no easy feat. You had to stand on her bent leg and pull yourself up. When she stood up the lurch was a little scary as you leaned so far back all you could see was sky. Her gait was slow and lumbering and would not be a form of transport that would be enjoyable over long distances.
To get down you climbed onto her neck and kind of slid off feeling her spiky hairs and scaly skin chaffing your legs on the way down. 

It was interesting learning about the lives of the Delhi elephants from her mahout (elephant handler). The elephants of Delhi live down by the Yamuna river; it took Rupa about 2 hours to walk to our neighbourhood (15 minute drive sans traffic). Sadly the Yamuna is horrifically polluted so the living conditions for the elephants is less than ideal.
Apparently an elephant calf costs between $46,000 and $110,000 depending on the tusk size, the health and gender of the calf. Good thing their working life is a good 50 years. Elephants can live up to 80 years and cost bout $400 a month in food and maintenance. It takes about 2 years to train an elephant for service at parties, weddings and other ceremonies. They are taught to lift their trunks on command, make noises, stand and sit and not to spray water on their back while they have their ornate fabric saddle on.

A few pics...

Check out the texture of her skin

Hunter and friends

In keeping with the theme of this post I had to add this pic of my fave Delhi street sign

Sky Rats

Bordering my neighbourhood is a large flyover which straddles a train line. The crest of this flyover is covered with thousands of pigeons. In my mind pigeons equal pigeon poop, stray grimy feathers and mess… gross. Quite often when I am driving over the flyover I will see cars pulled over by the side of the road and the occupants will be spreading out grain or old chapatis for the pigeons. Sometimes I see people washing out the festy* water bowls and leaving fresh water for the pigeons… why? I don't get it. It's not like they are colourful pretty birds; they are ugly grey sky rats. On occasion I have been riding my scooter toward the crest of the flyover and all of a sudden all the pigeons take off and swoop across the road, turn sharply swoop the other way and then come back to land. It freaks the living daylights out of me.

Def Col/Jangpura flyover

On the way to Hunter's school there is a T intersection with a small traffic island. This is another spot that people seem to be compelled to feed pigeons. Sometimes the occasional goat or chicken trying to get in on the grain action as well, but mostly it's just pigeons. On the days I pick-up Hunter from school in a cycle rickshaw she just about has a panic attack when we round that corner of birds. I don't know where her irrational fear of birds came from.

So why do people around here insist on feeding these sky rodents… well I did a bit of research.

Apparently pigeons have religious significance in quite a few religions; two of which are Islam and Sikhism. Now my area has a rather large population of both Sikhs and Muslims so that equals a double whammy of pigeon feeding.

In Islam, doves and the pigeon family in general are respected and favoured because they are believed to have assisted the final prophet of Islam, Muhammad, in distracting his enemies outside the cave of Thaw'r in the great Hijra. This seems to have lead to a few folk tales and superstitions... Apparently there was a man who was very poor, he could not afford anything. But despite his poverty he would feed hungry birds, with scraps of left over food. In return the birds prayed to Allah over and over again so that the man would become richer and luckier. Allah heard the birds prayers and slowly the man became richer and richer with much luck.

Another superstition I came across is that if a woman is having trouble bearing a child, she should eat 7 or 11 grains that are still in chaff from the ground where pigeons feed in Makkah… ewww

In Old Delhi there is a sport played called Kabooter Bazi. In the late afternoon Kabooter Bazi players head up to their rooftops and give signals for their groups of pigeons to fly around in packs. They then throw seed in the air and the pigeons circle back to eat a few and then resume circling. The pigeons know which rooftop is there home and promptly return to their rooftop when seed is thrown. The aim of the game is to get other pigeons to join your pack, increasing the size of your pack and basically gaining ownership of the pigeons. You could basically say it's winner takes all gambling with pigeons. Apparently you can buy pigeons to train up to play and good pigeons can be ridiculously expensive.

So there you have it… I learned something new today.

*festy- Australian word related to the word fester.

The day everything stopped.

On Saturday night we had planned to have a few friends around for homemade pasta (yes, we make the fettuccine from scratch) and pina coladas. However, our cocktail plan was changed at the last minute; there were to be elections in Delhi on Sunday which means Saturday was a dry day… go figure. So no Pina Coladas for us, instead we had to make do with the beer we had in the fridge…blah. We had a fun night, great food, great company and great fun competing with SingStar.

Sunday was hideously boring as nothing was open due to the elections, so we stayed home all afternoon and ate, read, watched TV and blogged.

On Monday I noticed something; just about every person I came across had a black permanent marker line down their thumb nail. Apparently this is how you are checked off when you vote. I guess this stops people from voting more than once. I somehow don't think this would work in the posh areas of Sydney, too many women would be cranky about having their manicures ruined.

So it's a couple of days later and those black lines are not washing off. It's going to be interesting to see how long they last.

Woodstock School

Last night we were invited to a dinner to meet the new principal of Woodstock School, Dr Long. Sam had spoken quite highly of Dr Long and how personable he is so we decided to go along.
The dinner was hosted by a family in Delhi who had a long history with the school. So we rocked up to the address and it turns out the house was about the largest single dwelling we have ever been in. To put things in perspective our 2 bedroom apartment would fit into the living room twice. The room 18 foot ceilings with huge windows and opulent furniture. Against two of the walls were display cabinets housing about a hundred Lladro porcelain figures. So you get the picture.
There were about 40 people in attendance and it was nice to meet some other Woodstock families from Delhi. I am probably going to catch up with a Japanese woman I met who has 3 children attending Woodstock.

Dr Long and his wife were very easygoing and very diplomatic, a skill that is particularly necessary when it comes to cross cultural relations in India. Dr Long made a short speech which reminded me of how fortunate Sam is to have this opportunity to go to such an amazing school in such a fabulous location… good thing he loves it.
Living in Australia we never would have considered shipping our kids off to boarding school but sending Sam to Woodstock is probably one of the best decisions we have ever made… or I should say Sam has ever made. It is unbelievable to see how far he has come in such a short time in terms of his academic progress. And the opportunity to live in such an incredible environment and to interact with so many different cultures is priceless. It may take a little while to sort out his accent when he is done but it will be worth it :)
I would encourage all families to think about giving their kids the opportunity to complete some of their education in a foreign environment, even if it is just a semester as part of an exchange program, as it will absolutely be a defining time in their life.

Woodstock School, Mussoorie, India

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Gandhi Smriti

Yesterday was exceedingly dull, so rather than follow up with another day full of non-events I decided to be a tourist for a few hours and take myself on a visit of Gandhi Smriti aka Birla House or the place where Gandhi lived his last 144 days and was assassinated.

I had been to visit the National Gandhi Museum in Rajghat previously, which was fairly comprehensive, so visiting Gandhi Smriti was not high on my to do list. But seeing as it is listed in the top 10 things to do in Delhi I thought I would make the effort.

Before I left home I did a bit of research about opening hours, cost and the like. I found that the official website for Gandhi Smriti was about one of the worst and strangest websites I have come across. Frankly, there was not much information about the place anywhere on the web, not even tips on how to get there. So on an unseasonably cool day armed with very little information I made my visit.

Outside Gandhi Smriti there were the usual sellers of touristy trinkets whom were surprisingly un-pushy… refreshing. There was not an entrance fee but you are obliged to sign the guest book.
Upon entry I first took my time exploring the gardens. The grounds are quite extensive with various statues, sculptures, a huge Peace Gong and a ubiquitous broken fountain. From the side of the house you can trace the path of Gandhi's last steps up to the elevated lawn where he was assassinated. The spot is now marked with a Martyr's column.

Inside Birla House I was ushered upstairs to visit the Eternal Gandhi Multimedia Museum. I have to say I was impressed. I was not expecting such a professional set up. Each visitor is given a well dressed complementary guide so show them around the museum and to explain each of the installations. Each installation is a mix between art, history and multimedia display. Most displays are quite intriguing and creative. Well worth a visit.

Downstairs the hallways of Birla House are lined with boards depicting various times of Gandhi's life, his death and his philosophies. It would take all day to read every board of information and frankly I am not that much of a history buff.
At the end of one of the hallways is Gandhi's bedroom with its simple furnishings. The room also houses a display cabinet of his worldly possessions, comprising of his glasses, eating utensils, other bits and pieces and a fob watch. I doubt the watch was his actual watch, which stopped at the time of his death, as the face appeared to be a photocopy. These same earthly possessions are found in the National Gandhi Museum. I am guessing the ones here are a representation?

'Scuse the crappy iPhone pic

Other things to do at the museum include watching the twice daily screening of the Life of Gandhi movie as well as taking in the interesting display of dioramas of key events in Gandhi's life.

Meeting the King of England... loving the Queen's hair

The thing that struck me about this place was how quiet and peaceful it is compared to so many other Delhi tourist destinations. I would definitely add it to your to do list.

 

Getting There

I ended up driving. There is MCD parking on Tees January Lane next to the Claridges Hotel. If you are taking public transport the nearest station is Race Course and it is about a half kilometre walk.

 

Opening Hours

Tuesday to Sunday 9.30-5.30 (closed Monday)
The Eternal Gandhi Multimedia Museum is open 10am- 1.30pm and 2pm-5pm. Closed Mondays and the 2nd Saturday of the month.

 

Cost 

Free