tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66022572011-04-21T16:57:09.181-04:00ABOUT THE BLOG: thoughts and opinions, in and of India. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Aziz Sunderji is a 24 year old Canadian working for an NGO in Gujarat, India. He is actively seeking a book deal and a research grant.azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comBlogger401100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1094489370367225622004-09-06T13:48:00.000-04:002004-09-06T12:49:30.366-04:00

My last day in Ahmedabad was hectic. As much as the idiosyncrasies of that city can hinder your productivity, if the wind is blowing in the right direction and the gods are smiling, you can accomplish great things. I put the finishing touches on my research paper (´Rural Household Cash Flows: the Mota Sakphar Case´), printed several copies and had them posted to the right people in the right

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1092561224176793992004-08-10T05:07:00.000-04:002004-08-15T05:17:33.296-04:00

A lot, really--especially if you are a Hindu south-Indian. In my last few minutes at the office, I had my friend Vinay Kumar, or so I thought his name was, write his contact info in my book. He wrote, “V.S. Vinay Kumar”. “What’s with the V.S?,” I asked. Drawing a deep breath of someone preparing to tell a story that has been told many times, Vinay explained the origin of his name. The

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1091742326008442892004-08-05T17:42:00.000-04:002004-08-05T17:45:26.006-04:00

Today was an excellent day.  The most runny of poos that have tormenting me for the past few days finally relented, i'm sure because I got my hands on some sweet drugs, namely Ciprofloxacin, an antibiotic.  This miracle antibiotic has, I think, saved my life at least once and maybe twice while i've been here in India.  Since I’ve already amply described my near-toilet experiences with India’s

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1090611630509624242004-07-23T15:34:00.000-04:002004-07-23T15:40:30.510-04:00

Just a quick note today.  I spent the day in our sweltering office puzzling over my regressions which have turned out to be absolute nonsense.  I decided to leave the office to drink real coffee and work on my laptop at Barrista, the starbucks-imitation coffee chain here.  They played brian adams.  Then i got some dinner at the "copper chimney" restaurant, which is a franchise.  they also played

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1090335466109218082004-07-20T10:04:00.000-04:002004-07-20T10:59:46.936-04:00

So i've neglected my blog recently, and the fact that nobody I know has mentioned this has been noted. At least a good number of people I've never met are reading, or so my site stats tell me. There’s no way I could possibly recap the last month of non blogging, but some random anecdotes come to mind. Shortly after my last spell of squishy diarrhea, as they call it, I received a call from

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089919096127311362004-07-15T15:18:00.000-04:002004-07-15T15:18:16.126-04:00

"bring your kids to work" day at the barbershop.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089918839405260582004-07-15T15:13:00.000-04:002004-07-15T15:13:59.406-04:00

The guy wearing the black shirt grabbed my hand after i took the photo and said, "i like you."

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089918636497433022004-07-15T15:10:00.000-04:002004-07-15T15:10:36.496-04:00

women bringing water back from the artificial lake (behind the hill) on their heads.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089918486451268602004-07-15T15:08:00.000-04:002004-07-15T15:08:06.450-04:00

where's the frozen foods aisle?

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089918337233445142004-07-15T15:05:00.000-04:002004-07-15T15:05:37.233-04:00

"does the recipe for cabbage-daal call for cabbage? i cant remember..."

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089918181448266882004-07-15T15:03:00.000-04:002004-07-15T15:03:01.446-04:00

An old courthouse, very out of place in Sayla.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089917857984802242004-07-15T14:57:00.000-04:002004-07-15T14:57:37.983-04:00

Boys.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089917781410901822004-07-15T14:56:00.000-04:002004-07-15T14:56:21.410-04:00

two friendly fellows and one of their "lurki's-lurkis" (daughter's daughter) who insisted I sit with them, have chai, and be stared at by a crowd of 25. well worth it.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089917619006862332004-07-15T14:53:00.000-04:002004-07-15T14:53:39.006-04:00

indian babies and little kids are often dolled-up in garish make-up, whether boy or girl.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089917575124567142004-07-15T14:52:00.000-04:002004-07-15T14:52:55.123-04:00

its been so long since ive been in the company of a friendly goat (see blog no 3 re: my goat-friend who lives on the steps of my hotel). goats are ideal companions; they dont speak very much but they are happy to sit in the shade with you, chew some grass, and stare at you with their humongous eyes--what more could you want?

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1089917312821225282004-07-15T14:48:00.000-04:002004-07-15T14:48:32.820-04:00

sayla train station. can you spot the tracks?

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1088015054121741842004-06-23T13:10:00.000-04:002005-10-30T09:05:46.033-05:00

I decided to go to Bombay this past weekend (Sat-Tue) because I needed to apply for a Swedish residence permit at the Consulate there and I also wanted to see the city.I had the AKI secretary book me a ticket on Tuesday, but by the time the train-people (Indian National Railways, the largest employer in the world) got back to her, my ticket in both directions was a wait-listed ticket. Trains are

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1087327842447352972004-06-15T15:21:00.000-04:002004-06-15T15:33:23.496-04:00

I will be posting some photos from now on (the first ones are below--click on the small photos to see the larger, hi-res ones). The great thing about Indians, maybe Gujaratis only, is that they love to be photographed. I mean, when you pull out a camera, people literally drop what they're holdings (pots, food, babies..) and run to where you are pointing the camera. They don't seem to care if

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-108732683006308872004-06-15T15:13:00.000-04:002004-06-15T15:13:50.063-04:00

A picture is worth a thousand blogs.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1087326767771637262004-06-15T15:12:00.000-04:002004-06-15T15:12:47.770-04:00

This little fellow must have been pretty tired--he slept right through the village meeting. As the food was cleaned up around him, I was wondering if any of the ladies was going to claim him. His mother did eventually come by, but only to smooth his hair for the photo.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1087326701389951342004-06-15T15:11:00.000-04:002004-06-15T15:11:41.390-04:00

The village clown.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1087326548607196772004-06-15T15:09:00.000-04:002004-06-15T15:09:08.606-04:00

Lesson learned, part one: don't interrupt a Gujarati man enjoying his ladoo and gathia (sweets and fried dough). Lesson learned, part two: if someone else interrupts him, make sure your camera is ready.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1087326445901210612004-06-15T15:07:00.000-04:002004-06-15T15:07:25.900-04:00

Not a fan of the village clown.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1087326317262406392004-06-15T15:05:00.000-04:002004-06-15T15:05:17.263-04:00

Tapu Karsan, who does not own any land. He works for 50 rupees per day labouring on others' fields (less than $2 CDN. In purchasing power terms, less than $10 CDN per day). He is only able to work for a couple of months per year. He is lucky; his two grown boys send home 600 rupees per month ($20 CDN).

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1087123478324632592004-06-13T06:40:00.000-04:002004-06-13T06:44:38.323-04:00

There is a monstrous store called Big Bazaar on the outskirts of Ahmedabad, right next to the McDonalds ('family restaurant') and the two equally giant megaplexes (Fun republic and Wide angle). Big Bazaar on a Saturday night is upper-middle class Ahmedebad exposed, and I had the chance to enjoy it last night. Entire families, which is to say parents, kids of all ages, cousins, aunts and uncles

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1086805551696940332004-06-09T14:04:00.000-04:002004-06-09T14:25:51.696-04:00

Sayla is better the second time around. The rains came yesterday, and the temperature has dropped about 10 degrees. I completed my first survey, which took 3 hours, yesterday. My translators were doing all the work, but it was interesting nevertheless. We interviewed a Harijan (untouchable) family. I felt like an ignorant but micro-managing boss as I constantly peered of my translator,

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1086551533249196602004-06-06T15:51:00.000-04:002004-06-16T09:39:56.633-04:00

I’m back in Abad for the weekend after a week-and-a-half at Sayla. Sayla is much less savoury than Abad. To arrive at the Sayla field office, you take a bus three hours down the Abad-Rajkot highway, and about 2 and a half hours into the journey, bang of the glass behind the bus driver and yell ‘Sayla’—at least, this is what I do to ensure that the bus stops there, because there is no other

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1086032290297972092004-05-31T14:50:00.000-04:002004-06-14T13:56:10.543-04:00

I went to 'the field' this week--Sayla, which is about three hours away from Ahmedabad. I am staying at the the guest house, but since I am sleeping outside and working outside, the guest house is basically my closet. Sayla is very hot, but much more pleasant than the city, as there is a constant breeze. There are four clusters in Surendranagar, Sayla being the head cluster office. On

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1085067798866679592004-05-20T11:10:00.000-04:002004-06-14T13:51:45.860-04:00

I have been spending time with YF this week, who is a French student studying in Geneva, and currently working on a project for AKI. It is interesting to see how another foreigner absorbs India. Y. is reading the Mahabaratha, a Hindu epic, and scooping up as many classical Indian CDs as his sinewy European hands can hold. I, on the other hand, am reading recent fiction and political/economic

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1084717239160617872004-05-16T09:56:00.000-04:002004-06-14T13:49:22.346-04:00

Yesterday afternoon, after work, V. took me to the IIM-A (Indian Institute of Management at Ahmedabad) to play badminton. V. graduated from IIM last year, and unlike 99% of the grads, he decided to pursue a career with an NGO. Most graduates of IIM-A, India's best business school, go on to 100K jobs in the UK and US. The IIM campus was designed by Louis Khan (sp?), and is incredible; brick

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1084546158749689362004-05-14T10:31:00.000-04:002004-06-14T13:46:58.870-04:00

After weeks of opinion and exit polls predicting a BJP sweep, Congress has won the largest number of seats of any party in the national election. As the big winner, Congress will now choose its alliances, and the new "Congress+" will form a majority in the Lok Sabha (Indian parliament). What an unexected twist. Right on cue, Niraj yesterday exclaimed, 'its the dance of democracy!'. Indeed.

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1084106786397918402004-05-09T08:45:00.000-04:002004-05-09T08:50:56.843-04:00

I have been trying to read as much as I can about India, and in the process have come across some passages that I found especially relevant to my experiences here so far. FROM “MY EXPERIMENTS WITH TRUTH”, BY MK GANDHI “…I freed myself from the slavery to the washerman, I threw off dependence on the barber. All the people who go to England learn there at least the art of shaving, but none, to

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1083855493983774522004-05-06T10:16:00.000-04:002004-06-14T13:44:40.976-04:00

I spent Monday-Wednesday of this week in Sayla, which is the district of Surendranagr, in central Gujarat. If you've lost your bearing, here is the geographical breakdown: COUNTRY: India STATE: Gujarat DISTRICT: Surendranagar BLOCK: Sayla VILLAGE: to be determined I found out today that India has 12 lakh villages. That is Indian-speak for 1.2 million villages. Some more interesting numbers:

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1083345416759352262004-04-30T10:51:00.000-04:002004-06-14T13:42:42.593-04:00

India, to the unitiated like me, is completely bizarre. Since i've been stuck in the office for the past couple of weeks, have no funny stories to tell and don't really feel like writing about the fascinating world of micro-finance, i will tell you about bizarre india. AKI is very bizarre. They have recently received a grant of 25 million Euros from the European commission. AKI is among the

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1082390427034724802004-04-19T11:13:00.000-04:002004-04-19T12:06:38.200-04:00

My last entry ended abruptly with promises to talk about many things next time, including politics and economics--a tall order, lets see how far i get. Diu turned out to be a really beautiful, peaceful place. I rented a moped for 5 bucks, and so was able to do away with the extortionist autorickshaw drivers (daring to charge me one dollar for a ride across the island, the nerve!), and managed

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1081955897673773482004-04-14T11:15:00.000-04:002004-06-14T13:37:26.213-04:00

On Monday night i took an overnight bus to Gadu, which is where the AKI 'cluster office' for the Junagadh (south Gujarat) region is located. The bus was modified to hold bunk beds, with each level of the bunk accommodating two people. N. and I shared a level--slightly cramped. The bus rocked back and forth the entire journey, and i couldnt have slept for more than an hour. We arrived at Gadu

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1081172811488983232004-04-05T09:40:00.000-04:002004-06-14T13:33:52.483-04:00

Im am surprised to find that the AKI staff work long hours--after putting in a full day on saturday, i had to return in the evening for a few hours for a meeting with N. about the website. Had Sunday off though, and had room service, did some shopping, washed some clothes... I am taking an overnight bus with N. to Junagadh (southern tip of gujarat, on the sea) tonight. We should be there for

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1080833039621416772004-04-01T10:00:00.000-05:002004-06-14T13:32:29.066-04:00

Today was my fourth day working for AKI, and it has been quite enjoyable so far. I have been put under the wing of a Dr. K of Maharashtra, Phd in Geography (Poland, 1963). He has been treating me to lunch at the mess across the street from the office, and has generally laughed at my jokes. Tomorrow, since everybody else is at a workshop off-site, he and I have the office to ourselves, and I

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1080465308687383312004-03-28T04:14:00.001-05:002004-06-14T13:26:03.736-04:00

As you may have read previously, Delhi was not very nice--really hot, very polluted and congested, and everybody is on the lookout for tourists. My hotel was in the center of delhi in an area called connaught place. It is quite hard to get around in indian cities, as there are no traffic lights and no sidewalk, which is frustrating if you're used to canadian streets--so i have been using a

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6602257.post-1080038772182887282004-03-23T05:32:00.000-05:002004-03-23T05:49:37.763-05:00

Delhi is crazy. It's 37 degrees, the air stinks, and the streets are chaos. it's impossible to do anything in a relaxed manner. crossing the street is the scariest thing ever. there are no traffic lights and no gaps in traffic. since there is no method of crossing the street, i just usually hide behind people when they're crossing, preferably fat mothers with their children--they offer ample

azizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16978160262656736408noreply@blogger.com