> We’ve more or less settled into our life in Delhi, so I
> thought I’d send you another update. If you can’t remember
> (and we have a hard enough time remembering ourselves
> where we are and what we’re doing), we are at JNIAS (the
> Jawaharlal Nehru Institute of Advanced Study) at JNU
> (Jawaharlal Nehru University) in Delhi (India) for the
> semester (until the end of May). JNU is supposedly one of
> India’s best universities (more on that later), and JNIAS
> is supposedly the most elite interdisciplinary institution
> at the university. So why am I here? Who knows! Somehow, I
> ended up with a research fellowship here, which means I’m
> not teaching this semester, but focusing on my research.
> I’m interacting a little with the university here (I’m
> teaching one class meeting in the English department next
> week and give a lecture to the department in a while), but
> mostly I’m on my own.
>
> In any case, JNIAS is not just an institution, but the
> actual building in which we live and work. There are about
> ten little apartments, one of which we inhabit. It’s a
> little studio: 20x12 feet of happiness with a separate
> kitchen and bathroom. The main room is actually quite
> nice, since it has two large windows overlooking the
> wilderness of the Aravali Ridge that is part of JNU
> campus. Susan is very excited about the view! On the flip
> side, the windows do not close very tightly, which means
> that we’re getting a lot of dust. The first two weeks we
> were here, it was actually quite cold (nights around
> 40F/5C), so the dust wasn’t too bad (and we had a tiny
> little room heater working overtime), but now it’s
> starting to get warm again. We should be cleaning every
> other day—apparently that’s what Delhi families do—but
> then again those Delhi families have servants. We have the
> gentleman we’ve dubbed ‘broom guy,’ who knocks on our door
> every morning at nine and wants to sweep our apartment
> with his broom made of twigs. However, we’ve decided that
> his method of cleaning is really more of a redistribution
> of dust than removing dirt, so we politely smile and
> decline. He doesn’t seem particularly offended, but
> probably he thinks our apartment must be incredibly filthy
> by now.
>
> The bathroom is fine, with a water heater that gives about
> 10-15 minutes of hot water. The shower itself only has
> cold water, the official reason being that they’re worried
> about people scalding themselves with the hot water.
> There’s a spigot for hot and cold water at about waist
> height, which means either using a little plastic bucket
> to elevate it over your head or being acrobatic. The
> shower curtain does not go to the ground, and the shower
> is more or less level with the rest of the bathroom, so at
> the end of the shower most of the room is under water. But
> not to fear—there’s a plastic straight-edged scraper (kind
> of like a mop) to clean the floor. Actually, it means the
> bathroom gets mopped every day, which isn’t bad!
>
> The kitchen isn’t bad, though we had to add some cooking
> implements. We usually cook on our two-burner gas stove,
> which works out fine. There’s also only cold water in the
> sink, but it turns out that works fine for dishes (OK,
> mostly). There’s a kettle (i.e., a pot with integrated
> heating element) to heat water quickly. Unlike kettles in
> the UK, however, it does not switch off on its own when
> the water is boiling, so there’s an unofficial competition
> in the building about who can destroy the most kettles by
> forgetting that they’re on (and burning them). Gail from
> Australia is currently in the lead at two, Christine from
> UK in second place with one, while Doud from
> Calcutta/Baltimore/London threw in the towel and bought a
> good one after he burnt one. We’re in pathetic last place
> with none burned yet, but it’s only a matter of time…
> After a strenuous commute of about 30 seconds, sometimes
> in my house slippers, I make it to the ‘office’ or
> fellows’ lounge, where there are two computers with
> internet access. (We actually also have internet access
> from the room, but Susan usually uses that.) However, the
> power goes out about once a day for an hour, so you have
> to be careful not to lose work. (Side note: Is it just me,
> or do we always hear in the US how India is some kind of
> Mecca of technology? The grant CSULB is trying to get to
> work with Indian universities, at several million dollars,
> is based on internet access for all. Yet here we are at
> one of India’s top universities, and even the professors
> have a hard time getting on the internet regularly. I can
> only imagine what it’s like for students…) JNIAS also
> supplies some daily newspapers and weekly magazines, so at
> least there’s something to read when the power goes out.
>
> Other people you might meet (in addition to broom guy)
> include Mr. Nander, the attendant who changes our sheets,
> runs errands, etc.; Mr. Chaco Mattai (totally making up
> the spelling here), whose job I haven’t figured out yet—he
> sits in his office with his door open, but apart from
> answering the phone occasionally, I’ve never seen him
> work; Mr. P.K. Jain, the administrative director, who
> takes care of paperwork; and Prof. Aditya Mukherjee, the
> academic director, who is a professor in the History
> Department and married to the formidable Prof. Mridula
> Mukherjee, who is among other things the director of the
> Nehru Memorial Library, an august institution in Delhi.
> Everyone is incredibly nice and quite efficient—within the
> limits of what seems possible at an Indian university. Oh,
> there are also some security guards (24 hours a day!),
> though I’m not sure what they’re guarding. I guess this is
> another example of how labor is cheaper than technology in
> India—witness the construction site in Calcutta I
> described in the last letter.
> Getting away from JNIAS is a bit of a hike. We do our
> shopping at one of three markets: the market on campus
> (25-minute walk), where you can get almost everything
> except products by multinationals (that’s the influence of
> the Maoist JNU student government); the B10 market
> (20-minute walk) off campus, which has an excellent pastry
> shop and some good fruit and veggie stands as well as a
> coffee shop (Café Coffee Day) on the way home; or Vasant
> Lok (5-minute drive), which might as well be a Western
> mall. Not that we’re complaining—when we’re homesick, we
> can go to the Pizza Hut there. The MacDonald’s there,
> though, doesn’t sell ‘real’ burgers (no beef pretty much
> anywhere in India), but things like the McAloo Tikki
> (potato pancake in a bun) and the McMaharaja (some kind of
> veggie burger).
>
> Honestly, we’ve only just figured out most things on
> campus, so we’re still exploring things off. (That means
> we’re still a bit lonely and dying for news from back
> home.) One of the fun things, though, is just getting off
> campus. Our preferred mode of transportation is the
> scooter rickshaw (tuktuk in Thailand), a little yellow and
> green vehicle that has the motor of a scooter (I think)
> but a covered seat in the back that can seat two to three
> people (if they’re good friends). These rickshaws drive
> around campus randomly (or wait systematically at the
> campus entrance, but that’s a 25-minute walk) and usually
> stop and ask if you want to go anywhere. Then, the
> negotiation starts. First, you have to make sure they know
> where you want to go, 1. because the drivers don’t all
> speak English and 2. because Indian facial expressions and
> movements are so different that a confirmation is not
> always recognizable to us. Then, they give you a price,
> which is usually about 50-100% too high. (This isn’t just
> my impression—people with lots more experience in India
> have confirmed this. For one thing, they’re obviously
> starting the negotiation high; for another, we’re paying
> what’s known as the ‘white tax.’) In response, you can
> laugh and walk away, offer a lower price, or just gawk in
> amazement. It’s a back and forth that is sometimes fun and
> sometimes just plain annoying when they’re clearly trying
> to rip you off. If you’ve gone to the market for 20-30
> rupees three times and suddenly someone asks 50 rupees,
> you know they’re messing with you. But I’m taking it as a
> challenge to develop negotiation strategies that end with
> a fair price!
>
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