International Political Will

Last night, as my next-door neighbors celebrated their daughter’s second birthday, her older brother (all of 6-years-old) ran into the hallway and began to set off firecrackers.

It’s a long, echoing, concrete hallway on the 11th floor.  Not exactly a venue you would expect for a firecracker celebration.  Each blast sprayed small colorful confetti across the ground.

India is obsessed with firecrackers. Most days, I’m not sure what’s being celebrated, but these explosives are big and strong: loud black powder-filled bastards that would qualify as TNT in some U.S. states.

Diwali, the autumn festival of lights, may be the climax of the firecracker season.  Last October, I was in the holy city of Varanasi on the night of Diwali.  Big mistake.

Walking through the crowded streets one afternoon, I heard a few kids yelling and knew something was afoot, but it was too late.  This firecracker was so big – and close – that I felt the blast of heat and air before I heard the bang that nearly blew out my eardrums.

And all night, from the roof of our hotel on the Ganges River, kids threw one M-80 after another over the side – which all promptly exploded just as they fell past our window.  Seriously – all night.

But the fascination with firecrackers isn’t the only thing about India I find strange.  There are plenty of other Indian quirks that I either don’t understand – or just can’t stand.

Caution: May Contain Politically Incorrect Judgments and Generalizations

• Crosswalks (or lack thereof)

Crosswalks pretty much don’t exist in Mumbai.  To cross a street, you have to work your way through multiple “lanes” of traffic, sometimes standing just inches from a passing bus.  It takes some practice, and it’s dangerous, but you really have no choice.

But then the local neighborhood I live in decided to put fences in the median (some of them even barbed-wire).  This forces you to walk out of your way to a break in the median.

Now I understand that they want their plants in the median to grow.  But if you want pedestrians to walk out of their way to cross a street – YOU HAVE TO GIVE THEM A FREAKING CROSSWALK!  Why am I going to walk 50 yards down the road when it’s no safer than right here?

Attention city planners: create an incentive for pedestrians to not trample your median flowers.  And no, barbed wire is not an incentive.

• The Legendary White Giver of Alms

Is there some white person who travels around India just handing out wads of cash to everyone?  Because I can’t understand why else people – who are otherwise NOT begging, decide to suddenly run across the street with an outstretched arm when they see me coming.

And while we’re on the subject of begging…

• The Master of the Whip

These men wander the city streets, dressed in brightly-colored pants and an intricately painted face and torso.  They have long hair and carry a big, leather bull-whip, which they proceed to snap at your feet, scaring the hell out of you because you never saw them coming (I know, you should always see a shirtless, painted man with a whip coming…but in India, it just kind of blends in).

And then the man with the whip expects you to shell out money for frightening you!

I’m sure there is some religious connotation that I’m missing, but it seems to me that scaring people with a whip is not the best way to encourage charity.

But who knows what works when begging…

• Passive-Aggressive Beggars

They follow you for three blocks.  It begins as a tap, but eventually they are just hitting you on your arm repeatedly.  My question for them:  Has hitting your quarry ever really worked?  I’m just saying, there are better ways to generate sympathy.

• The Elevator Button

Attention Indian Elevator Users: When you push the button that has an arrow pointing “up,” it tells the elevator you want to go up.  When you push the “down” arrow, it tells the elevator to stop by and pick you up on the way down.

So don’t look at me like I just commandeered the elevator when the doors open and I tell you it’s still going up.  You pushed the “up” button, moron.  If you want to go down, ONLY PRESS THE ARROW POINTING DOWN.

And no, pressing the illuminated arrow button again and again will not make the elevator move faster.

• The Line Cutter

I’ve discovered this may be a caste thing.  Go to a fancy new mall or at the airport where predominantly upper-caste, wealthy Indians are, and discover the joy of being cut in front of by someone who thinks the world owes them special privileges.

Go to the local supermarket, and – get this – people actually know what a line is for – waiting.  Crazy concept, but for some reason not all Indians understand it.

• Cell Phone Etiquette

Apparently, my cell phone is the only one in the country that has a vibrate/silent mode.

I work in a quiet office – some of these people have even “shhed” me for talking at a normal volume. Yet I’m forced to hear the latest downloaded Bollywood ringtone blasted over and over again.

It’s sitting on the desk right in front of you, people.  Trust me, you’ll hear it bounce across the table if you put it on vibrate.

Lastly…and I’m probably tempting bad karma for this one, but…

• The Hindu Prayer Bell

I like hearing a good chant, or even a song.  The call to prayer from the Muslim mosques is relaxing.  I even like the drums that many Hindus use in their festivals and parades (sometimes accompanied by firecrackers).  And I certainly don’t want to infringe on anyone’s right to worship.

But who, exactly, decided that ringing a little brass bell for five minutes straight during prayer was a good idea?  That’s not meditative – it’s an alarm clock.

Know that little bell that shopkeepers put above their door to alert them when a new customer has entered?  It’s that kind of ring – incessantly – for several minutes.

Before I realized what the ringing was, I couldn’t figure out why the ice cream man was making his rounds at 10 o’clock every night.

But over the last few months, I’ve developed a comfortable compromise with the little ringing bell. Perhaps even a fondness.

After all, at least it’s not an M-80.

Tags: firecrackers, elevators, India, diwali, festivals

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