ADVENTURES IN MALLU LAND
Hi All,
I am sorry I wasn’t able to blog for sometime. This year has been a whole lot of travel and 2 weeks back I was informed that I would be traveling to Calicut with some colleagues for a recruitment drive. So before I continue with my euro chronicles a short detour to give you a feel of what Mallu land was like.
Day 1
We landed at 4:55 am on a foggy morning in Calicut and the moment we step off the plane (groggy with sleep as well as too much free champagne) we are whisked away to a VIP waiting lounge while an 'boy' takes all 6 of our passports and baggage tags from us. The owner of the agency here is Sheikh ‘X’ (to stay clear of slander no names will be mentioned) who runs an orphanage of more than 10,000 boys.
He is apparently also the leader of the a major religious sect of India.
The airport staff treat him like some kind of god.
Once the 'boys' have collected our luggage and cleared immigration for us (fuck no wonder terrorists get in so easily) we walk out to the parking area where there is a Pajero (in frickin Mallu land) for the Sheikh and 6 gleaming black Innovas for each of us.
Apart from the driver we each also have a bodyguardish kinda rep from the agency sitting in the front.
If all that is not enough there are two Ambis behind for all his staff. And then to top it all we have a police escort complete with flashing lights etc.
Hazard lights on and with stunned and fascinated mallus looking on, the cavalcade of 10 cars moves off and I am so enjoying this that i have to do all i can to stop myself from waving regally to the "poor" on the roads as we pass them by.....
I can soooooooo do with all this power... Must have been atleast a Prince in my previous life.
Reach the hotel and sleep till 10am and then after a quick bath we have to meet up again in the lobby as we are going to be taken to see one of the orphanages. Same cavalcade again but this time just the 6 innovas and the police escort.
Still managing to keep in check my tendency to wave at the hoards of mallus as we pass them by.
Am dressed in my cargo pants and a decent polo-shirt as its just a visit but as we drive into the complex we are met by
a) A honour guard (of orphans dressed in a costume which is a cross between the army and scouts) complete with screams of "Attenshun" and "Standetease" in a loud but heavily accented voice.
b) A troupe of dancers holding faux daflis (don’t ask) and again dressed like a cross between Ram-Lila and Mammmoty
c) 6 of the tiniest orphans holding garlands bigger then themselves (the type you see Jayalalitha and other south politicos wear)
d) a host of gold bordered lungi wearing geriatrics (who happened to be the trustees)
e) a Stage with hoards of fake flowers
f) facing a sea of almost 7-8 thousand boys of various ages.
Never have i seen such multitudes of white lungi clad boys leave alone such numbers of orphans.
After some 3-4 (i was beginning to doze out) long and typically Indian speeches we are again invited to speak. During my turn i just managed to thank the Sheikh and pray for his long life as many of the young ones in the front of the crowd looked scarily close to fainting from fatigue and boredom.
Then it was turn for lunch in a massive hall where a huge table had been set up for almost 20 people. As the 6 of us and the trustees sat down we were served some salad and some yoghurt dish. In the middle of the table was 2 huge dishes covered with silver foil. Then, very dramatically, it was whisked away to reveal mounds and mounds of biryani with a complete half of a goat resting atop each.
Smelled divine and since i hadn’t had breakfast i was relishing the prospect of a yummy lunch....
That is till the minions served us the rice. Then the Sheikh began to tear into the meat with his bare hands (jootha i might add) and serve all of us. The others in our group looked perfectly at ease but i was so revolted by this that i quickly said it was my barta and settled for fruits instead. The gory roasted goat head complete with eyes wasn’t helping either.
Came back and while the rest went to sleep i feasted on prawns and a tall cool beer.
Ahhh and did i mention that on the way back to the hotel from the lunch i again managed to resist the temptation to wave, regally or otherwise, to the ever curious 'poor' along the route.
But I did manage some discreet (yet still royal) Namastes to some (very fascinated) locals.
Poor souls probably thought i was some visiting south east Asian dignitary........ or Prashant Tamang.
Tomorrow interviews begin at 8 am and we have to do 400 per day ... phew
Day 4
The last 3 days have been 1 whirlwind of a session. We have already interviewed 1100 candidates in the last 3 days and another 1000 more to go before Saturday.
Here I have to admit that we Nepalis are a really ‘dayalu jaat’. I would begin every day, firm in my resolve to be strict with the selection. Especially since I have to face the headache when they arrive in UAE for training. However with every sob, every tear & every sniffle I would say “What the hell” and pass him.
However the candidates would go out and tell all their waiting friends that the Nepali is a good guy so my room had a huge line backing up round the corner outside. It was then that I had to put my foot down and become strict. But its really hard when they begin their sob stories.
This morning there was a simple mallu boy who (and I kid you not here) looked like Bambi the deer. HUGE eyes and a mouth that could not utter a single word in English. I am not sure if he was nervous or just dumb but for 10 min he sat in front of me with those big eyes pleading for help. And every time I repeated that I would not be able to select him if he did not answer questions his eyes would fill just that little more with tears till finally it rolled out of his eyes and down his cheeks. And all this while he did not look away or up or down…. Just sat straight looking at me with those eyes which seemed to get bigger…. By that time I wasn’t sure if he was asking for help or trying to hypnotize me. Strange.
Yesterday evening was a show organized by the hotel in their amphitheatre. Kallariyapattu or the ancient art of warfare. Sounded impressive but it was just a bunch of oiled mallus leaping about with swords. Pretty boring but the German group here seemed to be mightily impressed. Reminded me of those Bongs who Gape & Gasp into the cold orange fog at Tiger Hill while looking at, what they presume is a ‘Sunrise’.
Yesterday evening at dinner was a trio of Mallus singing Ghazals. Being a connoisseur of ghazals myself, I was dreading the accented evening that was to follow but to my pleasant surprise, the singer sang with not a hint of a Mallu inflection in his voice. I was just beginning to think that he must have studied or lived in North India when he decided to say a few words in between songs.
The poor fellow was just being polite and hospitable but after he asked us to have a “lowely taime in Gerala” and “to enjoy the gogonut karry” Jagjit Singh somehow did not seem the same again.
And the famous Indian trait of going out of the way to please white skinned people wasn’t going to NOT manifest itself. A group of Russians who had downed quite a number of beers were clapping after every song and making quite a racket. Actually they were generally enjoying the quaintness of seeing 3 grown men sitting cross-legged in lungis singing strange songs.
However the lead singer was so pleased with the applause that he offered to take requests from them.
After much difficulty it was finally communicated to the Russians that they could request some songs.
Pretty amused, they said the first thing they could think of…. “Raj Kapoor, Raj Kapoor” they screamed repeatedly, getting more and more boisterous with every chant.
“Soury, Now (No) Rej Keppur” said the singer taken aback. (But seriously what was he expecting anyway?).
“Raj Kapoor! Raj Kapoor! Raj Kapoor!” the drunken Russians continued.
Now with other guests beginning to look disapprovingly at the singer for inciting this ruckus, he did the only thing he knew to do….
He announced that he would dedicate a special song for the ‘Fow-rein’ guests.
And obviously not aware of the difference between American & Russian or for that matter, even male & female, he hurriedly consulted with his team of musicians (tabla and harmonium of all things) and then to our horror, launched into the weirdest rendition of Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” that I have every heard or ever hope to hear.
The only consolation was that it shut the Russians up.
And like a bad tune, it kept ringing in my head the whole night.
I had to invoke Himesh and his rendition of "Tan Tannna nana Tandoori Nights" from Karzzzzz to take it away the next morning.
This afternoon we had only just sat down for lunch when 2 serious looking boys entered the restaurant to inform us that the Sheikh was on his way to meet us. Ofcourse that was my cue to begin wolfing down my food. Totally ignoring my colleagues’ inquiring glances I ate as fast as my mouth could chew so that by the time the Sheikh arrived I was sitting back in my seat with a bowl of ice cream in my hand and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
The Sheikh came with his retinue of orphans and sat at the head of the table.
His assistants (all in their early 20’s) meanwhile also sat down but not at the table.
They, for some reason, sat in a semi-circle behind him. It was not only odd but also blocked the aisles for the poor waiters.
When asked to join us for lunch he shook his head, said he has cholesterol and then went on to order a prawn biryani and a bottle of ‘cowk’.
His ‘boys’ meanwhile refused our offer insisting they had already eaten lunch. I however did not believe that as they were quite clearly eyeing the food and swallowing huge gulps of spit behind him. When his prawn biryani arrived he, as usual, dug in with his bare hands and then, as if to reward me for eating fast, also began to reach (bare handed and jhutha by now) into the other dishes that our group had ordered.
Silently I blessed the two boys who had informed us in advance.
And if all this wasn’t weird enough the Shaikh then began to hand fistfuls of mixed food to his ‘boys’ behind him. Not on plates or bowls but right from his bare hands onto theirs.
Thank god the ice cream was a citrussy home-made lemon sorbet or else the ‘boys’ would have been left holding the contents of my stomach in their hands too.
I tried to think of pleasant things and nod at the appropriate times but then the waiter brought a whole black-forest cake to our table. As the Shaik’s eyes began to twinkle and fingers began to twitch, I quickly and respectfully stood up, bowed low and said I had some important work in the business center and hurried out.
As i turned at the door, he was just reaching for the cake....
I heard he wants to take us out for dinner again on Saturday night to the “Tej Howtel”.
I am already practicing my “I don’t think I am feeling well” face in the mirror
Day 7
After 3 more days of interviews I am beginning to see mallus pleading in my sleep. Need to go back to the familiar comfort of Abu Dhabi.
Went for the highly recommended Ayurvedic massage in the hotel spa but inspite of it being pretty relaxing I didn’t quite care much for it.
For one the “gingelly’ oil which was used was too strong smelling, the hard wood massage table wasn’t comfortable either and add to it a chatty masseuse…. Oiled and rolled on that hard bed I felt like some kabab being prepared for roasting.
After the massage to wash off all that oil, I was given a paste of chickpea and moong daal. As I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, smeared with the gooey stuff, I truly felt like a human shawarma. So much for a pleasant massage
Day 8
Finally on flight back to Abu Dhabi I randomly choose a movie to watch on the inflight AV system and what a treasure it was. WALL-E. A film by Pixar about 2 robots which has virtually no dialogue for the first 30 minutes and even after that it is just a few lines interspersed with plaintive cries of “Wall-E” and “Eve”.
Sounds boring naah? That’s why I didn’t bother to watch it when it released earlier this year inspite of it having glowing reviews.
Do yourselves a favour. Take a chance and watch it. You will get the sweetest reward.
The best scene? Wall-E and Eve dancing in space, with Eve leaving blue trails of her force field while Wall-E has an old fire extinguisher to help him.
Pure Magic.
Till next time
Photos of the above trip will be posted soon as I did not bring the camera to download the pics today.
Ciao and thanks for reading….
Vish
WORLD A.I.D.S DAY
Also visited a mall (for those who 
