Oo,oo, ah, ah, Tooki, Tooki

Yep, Deb and I went on safari to deepest India last weekend. The photo is a tiger print made earlier in the day as it stalked a deer whose print is in the upper right. We don't know the outcome of the evidence. OK, it doesn't sound as good as "a safari in deepest Africa", but then again, nobody, but NOBODY is off-shoring anything to Africa except production of vuvuzelas to annoy everyone and all smuggling of blood diamonds to keep Naomi Campbell's brilliant repartee with prosecutors in the news.
When I was planning this little excursion, I added a one-day jaunt out to the Rajiv Gandhi National Park about 50 kilometers southwest of Mysore. This is some teak wood forest area with loads of bamboo stands and a boat load of poor Indian Farmers. Oops, my bad, the 'poor' is definitely redundant. A number of years ago, Deb, the kids, and I went out to Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico in search of Anasazi ruins like those at Mesa Verde. The reason I bring this up is that you can see that the large Anasazi population centers had people who knew what they were doing when they built their dwellings; they were well-engineered and purposefully built. When you got out a distance from these centers, you notice that the dwellings are much more rudimentary, shall I say "primitive". Well, that's kind of what you find in these very rural areas. The huts are, at best, mud brick with thatched roofs of palm and coconut leaves the rest leave off the mud bricks. These places made the corrugated steel enclaves of the Dalit "recycle centers" look palatial. Now being at 12 degrees and change north latitude, we are talkin' tropics, so there's only two seasons: wet or dry. We were in the start of the dry season. It was wonderful. Here are some pictures from where we stayed. Deb on the veranda of the lodge above. Deb outside our hut below.

Deb relaxing on the porch of our hut.

Then we went in search of big game. We were in a Tata pickup specially designed to jolt every organ in your body loose from its moorings. I still haven't figured out were my gall bladder has ended up. Of course, we wanted to see a tiger and/or a leopard. We saw the tiger paw print and that's about as close as we (or most other visitors) came to the predators. But we did see wild elephants grazing in the bamboo thickets. We also saw over a thousand deer of various types. In fact, I imagine that the leopards can inadvertently fall from a tree and kill their prey by landing on them. The most work the leopard has to do is drag the carcass back up the tree to dine.




Alright, we weren't in a hut and there wasn't much chance of the wildlife terrorizing us as we slept. I am going to close this posting with a view from our porch at sunrise.



I will be posting our visits to Bangalore and Mysore over the next couple days.

On the Road Again

Yes, we'll be on the road for the next four days. We're going to Bangalore and Mysore. Once in Bangalore, we'll have completed the three points of the "Golden Triangle" of India IT between Chennai, Bangalore, and Hyderabad.

Look for my upcoming blogs as there are some surprises on the way. And even though he IS 15 years older, I know I'll still look better than this in 2025.

It Must be an Indian cultural Cultural Thing

Deb and I went to the Salar Jung Museum yesterday. It is housed in a building that has a marvelous facade. It and all its contents were donated by the prime minister (PM) to the last Nizam of Hyderabad. The PM and the Nizam were hereditary positions so that the eldest son of the Nizam and the eldest son of the PM would grow up, one to be king, and one to be his in-life Shwapti. If you read the previous blog on Chowmahalla palace, you know that the Nizams lived large because amassing large fortunes come to those who rule and larger fortunes come to those who rule longer. If you're an FOTK (See the Where have all the Nizams Gone post) life can be pretty generous as well. Oh, I was kicked out at first for having my camera in my pocket. The armed guards were very strict about cameras. Now virtually everyone that came into the museum had a cell phone of which, let's say conservatively, 90 percent of those phones have built-in cameras. I did an Ugly American as I was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. Yep, I stood out like a grouchy old American man should.

The last PM, who held his position until 1947, lived large shall we say? He had a big house. It was not as big or elaborate as the Nizam's, but not shabby. He appears to have represented his Nizam well and made sure he followed the old adage: "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer". The galleries that had the photographs from the late 19th century until Independence showed him as a close associate of the India Congress Party and a Mason. Talk about having your foot in both camps!

The PM was an avid collector. The only way I can describe the enthusiasm I imagine he had for collecting was when Joan Rivers recalled a shopping trip to a mall with Linda Bird Johnson. Joan told how the salesman had Linda Bird set her foot on the Brannock scale only to have Linda Bird say, "they're fine, I take three pairs in black, brown, and tan." It seems that where ever he traveled, the PM found stuff to buy. In some instances he must have bought by weight. Not surprisingly, he had some impressive stuff from China and Japan. Well, duh! Proximity reduces shipping costs. Some of the collections would make the eyes of any Pier One buyer mist up. We're talkin' container ship loads. Chinese and Japanese porcelain abound. There were rooms of furniture as well. And that's one of the areas where the cultural thingy became apparent. One of the furniture displays had chairs with silk embroidered covers. From the ceiling of the display case, water was leaking in a fairly strong flow. Now this was not a incident Deb and I just happened upon. There were others passing by the display with the gesture of "oh, look, water is leaking into the display. Let's go get -- some chai." They walk out of the gallery and down the hall to the chai stand.

While I was shocked by this accident, it wasn't the only display case that had water damage. A case nearby on the same wall was open with a drying fan blowing air into it. Two workman were sitting chatting away as the air blew into the case. There was not attempt to remediate the mold that had already started growing on the walls and furniture in the open display. Again, this wasn't the only incident that would send a western curator into cardiac arrest. In the display areas with cloth, the lighting was fluorescent which was like putting Glenn Close in a rabbit warren with a box of sharp knives and a turkey deep fryer. You could see evidence of the damage to the silks in particular. Now, maybe it is the Hindu karma that says that no matter what I do, the water will leak and destroy the display and that's the way of life. Or maybe it is simply not giving a shit about it and only coming to the museum to pay the 10 rupees to enjoy the air conditioning. I'm not sure which I am going to accept yet. As Deb and I wandered through the various galleries, we came to two conclusions, well, three actually:
(1) A western curator should never, and we mean NEVER take a post in India. That would be a good way to drive a western creative talent insane. The only real issue would be how long it would take. Would it be a few hours, days, or for the strong ones, weeks?
(2) The PM reminded me of Orson Wells' Kane buying up stuff to stuff into his estate, Xanadu. OK, I know it was Wells' rendition of Hearst and San Simeon. But the PM did not have an eye like many collectors do. It's just like sending someone out to the store to pick up some canned goods and oh, by the way, could you also buy about 200 European paintings while your about. The European gallery was much like one of those "starving artist" displays set up at a hotel. You know why these particular artists on display starved. There was a gallery of modern Indian painting. It was like someone sent a group of Indian art students to New York for a weekend visit to MOMA, the Whitney, and a few galleries in Soho. Their objective was to "make some paintings like the ones you see there." Again, most of these artists will be painting for the "starving artists" of India. The thing is, they won't be in a hotel conference center, they'll be under a tarp (if they are lucky) selling their works beside the container ship rug sales guy out on Road 42. You'd be surprised at the volume of Chinese merchandise the Indians have access to. For being mortal enemies, the Chinese don't seem to have any reservations about selling junk to India.
And finally (3) we are not recommending the Salar Jung to anyone who has been to a North American or western European museum in the past 50 years, and we include those who have been to the Toledo and Detroit art museums as well. Walking past a Tyree Guyton house in Detroit does not count, though. If that's your paradigm of folk art, by all means, visit the Salar Jung. It's you.

The Peddlers

For all of you who remember Monty Python and the Holy Grail, a daily peddler ritual brings to mind Eric Idle as the cart master/crier and you will appreciate the street peddlers whose daily trip through our neighborhood can be heard as cries of "Idly (id leeee)" or whatever the Telugu is for "sharpen your knives." Anyway, a man with a large stainless steel pot walks down the street selling Idly, not to be confused with Eric, and I can only imagine that his target audience is the squatters on the empty lots. Most of those living in structures that are not of multiple layers of litter sewn together and covered with discarded wooden poles previously used to stablize concrete structures while they cure have maids and cook. The Idly (not Eric) peddler really wants those who are washing their clothes on the cement platform near the job site next to our apartment. And speaking of washing clothes, even Deb has become a bit jaded. As we passed another job site closer to her office, there were women beating some form of clothing on the rocks. Deb's comments as she watched one woman swinging a garment in an arc and bringing it down with a "thud" on a rock, "that must not be the delicate cycle". Just a short note. My other drafts are far too moody for the moment. I have to work on them. Always look on the bright side of life. Talk to you soon.

Where have all the Nizams Gone*

*Sung to the tune of Pete Seeger's "Where have all the flowers gone?" Well, in Hyderabad, you know where seven went along with a few of their close personal friends. As you recall, one of the things that was so attractive about our apartment was the view from the balcony. Now we've shown you the view back from the Golconda fort. And to the right of the fort from our balcony you can see the onion-shaped domes of the tombs of the nizams who ruled from the fort. Like so many of India's antiquities, the tombs have suffered from gross neglect from the British Raj, the Princely states from which they sprang, the state in which they reside, and the federal government. But the tomb complex showed the care and dedication that was given royalty. Far less grand than the Taj Mahal, these tombs are still stately. Note the minaret to the left of this tomb. It is a duplicate of the minarets that define the Charminar in the old city. Reason is, this nizam built the Charminar! How fitting that the mosque adjacent to his tomb echo his significant contribution to Hyderabad. The mortuary buildings are well preserved and have an extraordinary amount of "technology" built in to them for their functionality including features like solar water heating.

The best preserved tombs represent three generations of kings and queens and some spaces were even dedicated to courtesans, FOTK (friends of the king, and close and personal, no less). Our guide was a history graduate student at Osmania University, so we got a good background on the relationships. He also took pictures of Deb and I which was worth his rather steep fee, but Deb was happy with them, so that's good.

Many of the buildings are purposefully built with half the architectural features being Persian and half being Indocentric, a unique blend to be sure.

Stay tuned for more to come.

Throw your mother from the train a kiss

Here is an example of the written language. This example hits close to home as Deb and I take the road and pass over the stretch of road the article is discussing. As you read it, please be assured that the writer is ESL. I'm sure it would be much clearer in Sanskrit or Telugu or even Swahili than it is in English.

We thought you might appreciate some local assessments of the area in which we live. I'm not sure if we qualify for the VVIPs, though I do believe many of our neighbors think us quite eccentric.

A Tale of Two Hyderabads, no, make that three, er, four.

We’ve recently visited two of the “must see” places in Hyderabad. One was the Golconda fort and the other was the Chowmahalla Palace. Fortunately we saw them in chronological order rather than alphabetical which helped put the two places into historical perspective. However, in the news recently, we have to talk about hysterical perspectives as the verdict just handed down in a legal case that is 60 years old is creating tensions between the Hindu and Muslim communities. Our two visits put the reasons why Hyderabad was an important center for the Persians, Moguls, and British over the last 1400 years. Yep, the Persians were here in the seventh century bringing trade and Islam to the area from the west. You also read in an earlier posting that it was purported that St. Thomas, yep, that “show me” disciple of Jesus, came to Chennai to first bring Christianity to India. He was martyred for that. Now pulling in the Mamallapuram which was flourishing during the seventh century, you can start to see the volatile political dynamics that we painfully see today.
The Persian rulers were the occupants of the Golconda (shepherd’s hill).
They were drawn here by the abundance of precious metals and diamonds. From the 14th century to the 16th century, five generations of rulers spent time in the fort complex, building it into a sprawling community surrounded by a medieval wall. The Moguls in the north saw Hyderabad as a prize worth the effort and in the 16th century, set siege to the fort after the Nizam would not negotiate. Net: Moguls win, Persians lose, fort is abandon until the British set up their operations in the Hyderabad area after the Mutiny of 1848-1849 with the largest garrison of troops anywhere in India. Funny, the fort history doesn’t seem to mention the British occupation. Of course, when I first went on the Hyderabad website, there was a gap between the mid-19th century until 1947. Seems like everyone went on vacation and didn’t keep a diary. In the vista picture looking from the fort, you can actually see our apartment building on top of the distant hill and four buildings to the left of the radio tower.
Now after the Moguls established themselves as the rulers and did make nice with the British, the new Nizams took advantage of the wealth that was available in the area. In the later part of the 19th century, they began to construct the Chowmahalla Palace which was the seat of the last four Nizams. I believe Chowmahalla is a Mogul term for “It’s great to be King”. But you’ll have to judge for yourselves: Medieval fort or opulent palace. Pick one.

Even when she is in traditional "native" dress, Deb sticks out like, well, you know. But we climbed all seven-hundred-twenty-eight steps to the top of the fort. It is a massive complex with sections built at various times throughout the nearly 400 years of its occupation.


Just like the issues dealing with the 60 year old legal case where a mosque was built on the site of a former Hindu temple and, sparing you all the details, the two groups claimed their right to the site. Interestingly, in the fort, constructed by the Persian Nizam, there is a Hindu temple with a structure outside it that looks like something you'd see on the third floor of MOMA. The contrast of its verticality with the litter that gets caught in the structure gives it that gritty modernity that comes alive and vibrantly represents the lingering tension of deeply held feelings of the ethnic religiosity versus the power structure based on a credo belief. Oh, sorry, I was channelling a docent we saw at the Whitney who was explaining a Jasper Johns' work to a group of Japanese tourists.

Now, the Chowmahalla palace belonged to the Mogul Nizams who, up till 1960, lived in the opulence that could only have been enjoyed by playing nicely with the British during the Raj.





But of all the grandeur and opulence, the one thing that just stuck with me was one below which just summarizes the way things work here in Hyderabad.