The study trip I was on was to India. Our plane took off on time. I managed to watch Over The Hedge [was probably the only one there watching that movie!] and a bit of Mission Impossible III. Gosh, Tom Cruise can still look quite good but the Irish agent, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, was oh so hot.
We landed at Mumbai Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport about 4.5 hours later at slightly after 8 pm local time [India is GMT + 5:30]. Now it may be an international airport by name but definitely not by appearance. I felt like I was passing through an airport from the 1970s. Nevertheless, it is India’s busiest airport and the primary international gateway to the country; Mumbai is after all the largest city in India and capital of Maharashtra state. Representatives of our host were already waiting when I Finally cleared customs and I was whisked off to ITC Grand Maratha Sheraton Hotel, a mere few minutes away from the international airport.
The grandeur and splendour of the hotel that greeted me managed to lift some weariness off me. Check-in was a breeze and I got a room at a corridor designated specifically for single women travellers – how’s that for extra protection and thoughtfulness? And the room… splendid! It came complete with toiletries thoughtfully placed to impress even the most discerning guest and with a huge plasma TV to boot!
Sunday, 27 August 2006: I decided to venture out into the City of Dreams in the morning and contemplated on taking an auto rickshaw over a breakfast combination of Western and (I suppose) traditional Indian morning fare. As I was discussing my trip to the Travel Desk, a chap from the host company came over and suggested I take a normal cab instead as he was concerned I may get fleeced. Despite my assurances and protests that I would be perfectly fine [I also didn’t want to trouble anyone especially as the trip to the city was mainly personal and hardly business], he proceeded to make some phone calls. And as it so happened that another lady participant of Turkish origin also needed to go do some Shopping as her luggage got lost somewhere between Frankfurt and Mumbai, it was agreed that we go to the city together to do some sightseeing and Shopping.
The cabbie and Rizwan [the chap from the host company decided to come along] took us through the potholed streets of Mumbai (gosh, the streets were in pretty bad shape alright!) racing through the traffic with auto rickshaws, red non-air conditioned public buses and black-and-yellow private cabs [that looked like the ones plying KL streets in the 1970s]. We travelled from north Mumbai where our hotel was, passing marble mini factories, to the south central suburbs of Dadar – where there were dilapidated, barely liveable shacks and tents and ramshackle shanties lining the street [and people living in them!] – and Parel [where there were a few hotels and business centres] to Mahalaxmi train station, where there was a thriving laundry or dhobi business just on the other side of the railway tracks.
We then moved on, taking the JJ Bridge [if my memory serves my right, plus I didn’t quite understand some of what Rizwan said!] where we passed the Haj Committee building [which functioned akin to our local Pilgrim Fund; the Haj jemaah from India would stay there before flying off to the Holy Land out of Mumbai] to the Chattrapati Shivaji Terminus [formerly Victoria Terminus], a massive train station complex. We then cruised the streets [it was already downtown and the roads were considerably better] passing the Naval Dockyard, the Mint, the Reserve Bank of India building and the Asiatic Society, which is the State Central Library housing a vast collection of newspapers and documents. We were Lucky to witness a movie shooting taking place on the steps of the Asiatic Society, woohoo! Doubt Shah Rukh Khan was there though; we didn’t and couldn’t linger there so we continued on to the Gateway of India. This structure, built in 1911 to commemorate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary to India is the most recognised symbol of the city. The Taj Mahal hotel was very close by providing its guests with magnificent views of the Gateway and the Arabian Sea [and I betcha the room rates must be astronomical!].
After a few minutes of Kodak moments, we continued on, passing the Jehangir Art Gallery and a brief pitstop at the Chattrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya [what a mouthful eh, one’d probably choke just trying to pronounce the name!], formerly known as the Prince of Wales Museum of Western India.
We then cruised along the Marine Drive [where you get a magnificent view of the Malabar Hill across the Back Bay, passing the famed Chowpatty beach, before going up Malabar Hill. Malabar Hill houses the richest neighbourhoods in the whole of India and the rates there are among the highest in the world. Various embassies are also located here.
We drove on, passing the other side of Mahalaxmi, stopping briefly at the Race Course [photography forbidden here!] before continuing on to Worli and Finally having lunch at an eatery along Linking Road, Bandra. This is India, you must eat at proper establishments and drink only bottled water please.
I was surprised at how famished I was feeling as we waited for our meal to arrive [somehow didn’t really feel it before when soaking in the sights and sounds of Mumbai]. We then went Shopping, or rather browsing, along Linking Road street stalls and bazaar. I didn’t quite manage to find anything that caught my fancy and hence the damage to my wallet was limited. We then returned to the hotel as we had dinner that evening. Anyway, by this time, I’d had enough of Mumbai, particularly the blatant poverty as evidenced by the dilapidated shacks and shanties and tents; the occasional barefooted street child trying to earn a Rupee or two; the mother and daughter duo who knocked on our cab windows signalling they hadn’t had a meal since God only knows when; the dirt everywhere and people living, sleeping, walking barefoot and yet somehow seemingly oblivious to this; the squatters practically living on the streets as the shacks could not possibly occupy two persons let alone a family of five or more [yes, they were peeling vegetables, even having a bath in the streets!]; and what I found particularly and especially repugnant, repulsive and disgusting was the sight of men taking a leak by the roadside [and more of that in other cities as well as I later discovered to my dismay].
I shall not apologise if I sound appalled and disgusted with poverty in Mumbai. Because I really was appalled and disgusted. Disgusted that people were made to live in squalid, wretched conditions, like animals, by the roadside. [Even the street cat looked sad to me and I was sorry to see it too]. That these people were reduced to being panhandlers for their everyday subsistence. That this city should be called the City of Dreams [what dreams do these people have when all they have is sleepless nights wondering when the next meal would be?] and that the city boasts the highest land rates in the country and yet could not address the urban poor. And I was sad because I know it would take years, decades even if at all, to eradicate or alleviate this poverty problem. And mind you, I didn’t even see the Mumbai area of Dharavi which contains Asia’s largest slum. I remember thinking, if this is how it is in the big city, how is it like living in rural India? I’m not naïve nor ignorant and had braced myself for the worse but even then a first-hand experience and contact with the poverty and overwhelming destitution was still a surreal experience.
Dinner was an informal affair which started with finger foods. The waiters went around serving us so much so it got me wondering if that was all there was to dinner and that it was their interpretation of an informal dinner. Turned out there was substantial food served after all, after a presentation by our host. I am not a regular patron of Indian eateries and was picking at my dinner.
Monday, 28 August 2006. We checked out of the hotel early in the morning. I simply could not fault the hotel service and wonderful ambience save for the slow checkout. And we had a flight to catch too! Anyway, it was Finally done and we were taken to the domestic terminal to Mangalore.
As I have mentioned in my earlier posting, the search at the airport was severe. In fact, I think it bordered on paranoia. We had to have our cabin bags tagged, scanned, searched and then only after satisfying themselves that the hand luggage carried nothing in liquid form whatsoever would only the airport personnel verify our bag tags. I didn’t experience it when boarding the plane from KUL – in fact I double checked at the KLIA check-in counter that the rules were only applicable for flights out of the UK and for flights going into the USA – and so wasn’t happy when I had to part with my hand cream and face mist. It was only a domestic flight, within India, for God’s sake!
Our Jet Airways plane took off at 0945 and landed at Mangalore in the state of Karnataka at 1100. From my window seat, I could see the red earth alternating with green plantations below. Mangalore has a small tiny airport and we were then whisked off, sans our luggage which went directly to our hotel, to Dharmasthala, a town about 50 km away. The journey there took slightly over two hours though due to the bad roads which were narrow and red-caked at times. Surprisingly, there were actual, proper, standing brick houses along the way, not shacks or sheds or tents! It was a bumpy two-hour ride and I was beginning to get tired of being jostled here and there when we Finally reached the town, somewhere in rural India, shaken but not quite stirred.
We went to this guesthouse atop a hill operated by a trust, which also runs the local temple [which is pretty famous judging by the number of visitors from nearby towns]. It was a basic but comfortable looking guesthouse offering units of rooms and splendid views of the surrounding valleys. We were given a warm welcome – they really were very hospitable hosts – and after lunch, we were given a presentation of the programme being run by the trust before going to meet the president of the trust. Apparently he was some respected person and he was the one who initiated this programme to help the local poor. We then stopped at a local hospital on our way back to Mangalore to have an Up Close & Personal look at how the programme helps those who are hospitalised.
We endured another bumpy ride before reaching Mangalore and checking into Taj Manjarun Mangalore. After the luxurious Mumbai hotel stay, this hotel paled in comparison. But what it lacked in luxury was made up by the thoughtful performance put up by the Mangalorean hosts during dinner later that evening and also the wonderful and charming hotel shop where we discovered many beautiful souvenirs at very reasonable prices.
Now a bit on Mangalore: it’s a port city and gateway in the Karnataka state. Fishing is an important economic activity besides farming. Can’t say much else ‘cause we didn’t get a chance to wonder around!
We checked out the next day and made our way to the airport [which we got in the day before] at Bajpe, about 30 km from the city. Another winding and bumpy ride to the airport. Despite its size, we endured another round of intense check on our hand-carried bags.
Our noon flight out of Mangalore landed at Bangalore, the Silicone Valley of the East, in under an hour. We got served a simple breakfast despite the short duration. Interesting how they can manage to do that when all you get on a domestic flight to LGK aboard our national carrier is a drink!
Upon arrival at Bangalore [capital city of Karnataka state], we proceeded to Kolar, about 70 km away for another rural India experience. This time around, thankfully, the roads were considerably better. The journey still took about two hours as more vehicles plied the streets as is normally the case with better roads. From what I could see from my seat in the bus, Kolar has a sizeable Muslim population. We stopped at a local society for a brief presentation on the local programme and then went to visit two villages.
Another great Indian hospitality was had at the first village, it seemed the whole village had turned out in their best outfit to greet and welcome us. We were each given a flower garland, and err, a red dot rubbed on our foreheads. I wasn’t keen on having some red dot marking my forehead but told myself that it was their culture and custom and not religious [I hope I’m right on this thought!], and a welcome so grand it felt like a hero’s welcome home. I was feeling a tad embarrassed with the grand welcome for I didn’t feel worthy of such a welcome – I mean I’m hardly Angelina Jolie in Namibia! Nay, I’m no celebrity, just a foreign visitor trying to learn from them. Gosh, yes, it was simply humbling and amazing that there we were, from various countries, some from First World countries even, trying to learn a thing or two from these simple village folks.
We had a question-and-answer session with the villagers, trying to learn as much as we could from them. In turn, they were also curious as to the purpose of our visit.
We then hurried over to the next village [time was passing quickly] and this time, the villagers were predominantly Muslims and instead of working the land, they work in kilns. The Muslim villagers were probably wary of us and not many turned up to meet us. But from what little we could gather, it was evident that they welcomed such a programme. Anything to help them overcome their financial woes.
We didn’t stay long in the second village as we had to rush back to Bangalore. After enduring a horrible traffic jam in downtown Bangalore, we Finally reached Taj Gateway Hotel on Residency Road. Dinner was by the hotel poolside and there I met a French eye-candy. We turned in for an early night [if you consider 10.45 pm early!] as we had a very early morning flight to catch the next morning.
Wednesday, 30 August 2006. We were given a wake-up at an ungodly hour – 4 am! I think the phone must have rang for several minutes before the sound penetrated my foggy mind. Yup, our flight for Hyderabad was scheduled to depart at 0615 hours – and don’t forget we had to endure the horrible custom check again. We weren’t at all pleased to be billed USD180++ for a miserable 8.5-hour stay and we made this clearly known – and the rate was inclusive of breakfast which we never ate too – but the hotel staff was unyielding. If only we weren’t in a hurry to catch our flight. Daylight robbery is what I’d call it.
We landed at Hyderabad less than an hour after take-off and were brought to Taj Residency Hyderabad. Now Hyderabad, the capital of Andhra Pradesh state, is a predominantly Muslim city. We were given about two hours to Relax before our meeting started at 10 am. We were all feeling knackered but hey, the show must go on. The meeting continued until 5 pm.
A trip to Golconda Fort had been arranged and we left the hotel at 6 pm. Golconda Fort is probably 7 km away but there was heavy traffic along the way. I was getting sick and tired and feeling both homesick and a little bit under the weather by then, what with the Indian diet, the continuously bumpy coach rides and the incessant honking and so was really glad when we reached the area.
Golconda Fort stands atop an isolated hill and spreads over a radius of 3 km. Founded by the Kakatiyas in the 13th century, the existing structure was expanded by the Qutb Shahi kings into a massive fort of granite with walls and ramparts extending some 7 km in circumference. Now it lies deserted but in its heyday was the producer of the Kohinoor diamond and consequently the fortress city was famous for its diamond trade. The Hope Diamond and the Orloff Diamond of Catherine the Great are said to have originated from there too. The fort is famous for its built-in acoustic effects whereby handclaps at the entry gate could be heard at the top of the fort, some 69 metres high away.
We were there for a sound and light show [conducted in the evenings]. It was amazing – the structure was fantastic [I’ve always loved buildings and ruins] and quite well preserved, the show was enjoyable [and would be more if not for my full bladder!] and a feast to our eyes as much as our skin was a feast to the mosquitoes. The show lasted for about an hour.
We then made our way back to the city, stopping at Taj Krishna hotel for dinner. Now this hotel is opulent and tastefully decorated. Really a luxurious hotel. Back to the hotel at 11 pm; I was already half-asleep by then.
Thursday, 31 August 2006. Independence Day. Still feeling homesick and missing Mummy’s cooking. Plus living out of suitcases was getting to me. But the week was almost over, hurrah! Woke up after sleeping again after Suboh prayers and had a late breakfast. This morning, we had presentations by three different parties. Quite informative. We broke for lunch just after 1 pm. Catherine, the girl from South Africa, didn't join us the whole day - apparently she had a bad case of food poisoning; I suspected the cause was the sweets she bought from a roadside stall at Golconda. Oh dear.
Serap, the Washington-based Turkish lady, invited me to join her and Regina, a Brazilian lady, to go Shopping; Serap still hadn’t recovered her lost/missing luggage and desperately wanted to shop. I was sorely tempted but decided to join in a trip prepared to Salar Jung Museum instead. Score to Adek for resisting the Temptation to shop!
In the end, only four of us foreigners joined the trip, together with some reps from the host. I was glad I went there. Salar Jung Museum is located in Charminar and houses extensive and magnificent private collection of art objects of Nawab Salar Jung III such as exhibitions of European and Indian statuary. Words can’t even begin to describe these priceless, exquisite artefacts amassed from about 40 countries. I followed the troop wandering from one room to another – unfortunately, all visitors are allocated only half an hour in the museum, really unreasonable it seemed to me when there were 39 galleries in total – gazing around me in wonderment and amazement and delight. Oh by the way, no cameras are allowed here. It's difficult to believe all these pieces belonged to a single individual.
There is the musical clock from England where a toy wooden figure of man comes out three minutes early to every hour and strikes the corresponding hours on a gong and goes back inside, and there’s a blacksmith with a hammer who strikes the seconds away non-stop.
There is the ‘Veiled Rebecca’ statue from Italy, constructed from a single slab of marble, wearing clothes and sandals that aren’t quite there, now she was seriously anatomically perfectly carved.
There was the painting by Ed. Vander Haeghen [a Belgian] called ‘Stigma Diabolicum’; it’s a painting of an attempt to drive out evil spirits from a witch. The witch is stripped off and is lying down, restrained by some men, while a physician makes an incision at the side of her body. A few men from the church observe the procedure. You can clearly see the mark on the witch’s legs as she was being restrained and the terror on her face.
There are the three two-dimensional paintings of the Venetian Grand Canal, Piazza of San Marco and Venetian Grand Canal with Gondola by two Italian artists. You can see the paintings facing you if you stand at the extreme end on either side of the paintings. Amazing illusion. The paintings are also very detailed, depicting Venetian life once upon a time – even the marble statues atop a building are accurate and their shadows, together with other objects’ shadows, thoughtfully reflected as they bathe in the evening glow of the sun.
There is the wooden double statue. The side that faces you is that of the devil Mephistopheles while the other side of the figure reflected in the mirror placed strategically behind it is that of a good lady (Margaretta). This 19th century statue originates from France.
There are the Adrianne Rescued by Theseus and the Adrianne Abandoned by Theseus paintings.
There is the Glass Gallery, with an impressive collection of glass and crystal ware [Venetian, French, English, Bohemian, Istanbul, Belgium and Ireland]. I sighed looking at them all.
There is the Porcelain Gallery, with its magnificent collection of porcelain ware from England, Dresden and other parts of Europe. Another sigh escaped me.
We then proceeded to the adjacent Nizam’s Jewellery Gallery. A stricter requirement is imposed on all visitors here: no photography, carry bags, mobile phones allowed. Visitors are allocated a duration of visit limited to a similarly ridiculous half an hour. And a very thorough body search was conducted too, at least twice.
And you can see the reason why as you step in the gallery. Rows of rows of rows of magnificent jewellery in various shapes and sizes – rings, necklaces, anklets, custom decorations, head gear decorations, belts – sit in glass displays in all their splendour. Fantastic. Stupendous. Breathtaking. Amazing. Stunningly beautiful. I can go on and on and yet the words will not do them justice. It’s just amazing that all these jewellery were assembled in those days of yore where cutting edge technology was still unavailable. The diamonds cut to perfection, the gigantic pearls, the enormous emeralds from Colombia, the rich red rubies – they were all carefully selected from only the very best and it must have taken a thousand oysters to find similarly perfect gigantic luminous pearls, a thousand feet of mining to get that perfect green emeralds and red rubies... it’s mind-boggling really. I oohed and aahed at each display. Yes, I was glad I chose to visit the museum instead of going Shopping.
We made our way back to the city [me reluctantly] and braved the mad evening traffic, passing the magnificent Charminar edifice. This is like the landmark of Hyderabad and is 400 years old. Built by ruler Mohd Quli Qutb Shah, it stands imposingly at 180 feet tall. The four minarets soar to the height of almost 49 metres each above the ground. A small mosque is located on the roof of the edifice. All around Charminar is a bustling bazaar of pearl and jewellery shops etc [too bad we didn’t stop!].
We left the hotel at 7.30 pm for dinner at ITC Sheraton hotel. By then, I’d gotten used to having finger foods served before the main meal. I was, however, feeling uncomfortable at the sight of the poor waiters; they were of small built and (despite lacking in size) really bent over backwards in their eagerness to serve us foreigners [actually it was more of bending forward as they bowed themselves]. The thing was, I don’t think anyone [including the local Indian bigwigs] cared about or noticed them hovering in the background, trying desperately to entice the guests with their offering of food. I don’t know why but I felt it unfair that they didn’t get their due recognition for their thankless task. And yes, the scant attention given to them really made it appear a thankless job. I really felt for them. I mean, yes, they are waiters but don’t they deserve some attention and words of appreciation? I felt for them so much that I stuffed almost every vegetarian and seafood finger food shoved my way because I couldn’t stand watching them standing there, patiently trying to get our attention while balancing the heavy trays. I was quite relieved when the host announced dinner was ready, relieved that the waiters be relieved of their thankless job.
Friday, 1 September 2006. Meeting continued and ended just in time for lunch. I didn’t partake any; instead I rushed back to my room to perform prayers, packed and then checked out. Left my luggage with the concierge [should have brought the Delsey trolley bag instead as my Samsonite was already bursting at the seams, and not with Shopping merchandises but with documents and materials!]. I then met Serap and we went Shopping [her missing luggage had Finally been recovered and just as we were about to depart India for good too!]. There are a few shops in the city which stock beautiful Kashmiri products – carpets, cushion covers etc. I Finally managed to buy a marble plate [been wanting to buy one ever since I saw a documentary on India]. I then went to Hyderabad Central Shopping Mall and as I didn’t find anything to my fancy, I then walked about in the city, yes, in the hot afternoon sun and polluted environment.
Got back to the hotel at 6 pm and after consulting the hotel staff, I decided to be adventurous and venture to Abids by auto rickshaw. It was an experience alright and I almost screamed a few times when I thought our rickshaw was about to collide into another vehicle. Abids is in another part of the city and has stores selling mainly saree materials and jewellery. I spent about an hour there before returning to the hotel.
I met Serap in the lobby and she kindly offered me to use her room. I was thankful for I was desperate to wash off the dirt and dust of Hyderabad off me. After performing prayers, a quick shower and wolfing down a cup of instant noodles, we left the hotel for the airport. It was only 10 pm and our flights were both at 0115 hours the following morning but the host was anxious that we’d get caught in the traffic. We weren’t caught in the road traffic but by the human traffic at the airport! I think a quarter of the city was there sending off some distant relative [think of the troop that gather to send off Haj jemaah at Kelana Jaya] so we practically had to push our way through to enter the building.
Another Crazy check-in procedure and check on body and hand luggage was endured. I got asked if I was standing at the right check-in counter, thanks to my trademark-flying outfit again. We went through the custom immediately, there was a long queue we had to join anyway.
There were only a few shops in the waiting area. Serap and I then went into the airport lounge to rest. We’ve become quite close over the past week and saying goodbyes is never easy. Her Lufthansa flight departed in time I think while mine got delayed and we only took off an hour after the scheduled time. It was an Airbus A-300 and nowhere as posh as the Boeing I travelled in a week earlier but I was too shattered to care. As the chap behind me kept kicking my seat, yes despite the leg space [imagine what havoc he’d create in economoney class], I changed seats to the first row [talk about being kiasu!]. I was barely in dreamland when a stewardess tripped over my foot in her attempt to close the window shutters, waking me up again. Grrr…
Oh and they referred to me in saccharine sweet voices too.
Saturday, 2 September 2006. Landed at KLIA at 0850 hours local time and reached micasa less than two hours later.
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