The Tale of Two Cities

How do you compare two cities? Especially, two cities that belong to two different genres, in fact worlds: One that lies at the edge of the planet and the another one that is right in the thick of things. I’m talking about Auckland and Mumbai (formally Bombay).
There are some unobvious similarities that the eye can miss at first glance. Both are harbours that harbour scores of immigrants. Both are the economic capitals Both have a public transport that is put to the ultimate test. The difference obviously is in degrees.
Let’s look at the physical features. Mumbai is hot and can make you sweat like no other city can. (Tran open) On the positive side, sweating rids the body of toxins. On the negative side it makes you smell. Mumbai has four distinct seasons: hot, muggy, very hot and very wet. Auckland on the other hand, is cooler but the climate is fickle. If you don’t like the weather in Auckland, wait for ten minutes. The sun may be less warm in Auckland but is slightly more direct than the hot sun of Mumbai. In Auckland one is unprepared if the knapsack does not carries a semi-rain-wind-proof jacket.
Auckland has slopes and can test your breathing. Mumbai has potholes that can test your driving, back and the honesty of any policemen.
Culturally, Mumbai has been crazy about cricket, curry and films, especially since it is the headquarters of Bollywood the Indian version of Hollywood, which churns out more films than any other country. (Appo) Quality is, the elusive factor, a different ballgame. Conversely, Auckland loves rugby, takeaways (especially fish and chips) and clubbing. I love the ‘better’ crowd in Auckland. I prefer Kiwi-wannabe-Americans to their Indian counterparts. I love the extensive quality of books available at Borders and the Auckland City Library. All in all, Auckland looks and smells more beautiful. But then, Mumbai is more photographable. Though people seem to be coming at you all the time, there is a diversity, economic, racial and cultural, that can test the word: diversity. Just like the rest of India, the city is photographable at any time. There are mosques, temples, churches and people everywhere, doing everything all at once. Any moment is a Kodak moment and any picture is an award winner. Auckland on the other hand, is an obviously more developed, cleaner and more beautiful but is definitely not as ‘happening’ as Mumbai, which sucks you into its web, whether you like it or not. You want a roller coaster: Drive! You want a movie: Keep your eyes open! It is ridiculous and interesting and a city like no other. But it is certainly more polluted, the crime rate is higher, the dirt rate is preposterous, poverty and civic sense is appalling and life can be an ordeal. Auckland has respect for the law, not fear.
On the cultural front, Mumbai boasts of family values and attachment, (Tran Mid) but in reality is a materialistic, cold and selfish place. Auckland, on the other hand, may look like a dog-eat-dog place that is cold, but I have found true love here.
The food in Mumbai is cheaper, only if you convert rupees into NZ dollars. In fact, Mumbai has a cheaper lifestyle. This can be attributed to the sheer population of Mumbai, which may be three times the population of New Zealand: Around Fifteen million. It is difficult to give the exact million figure in India because as a country, we have failed to count ourselves on various occasions. Anyway, that brings the cost of living down. Technically, Mumbai is only six times poorer and not thirty as the conversion rate shows. This could be the obvious corruption-related problem that most things are in India.
On the positive side, Mumbai has a great workforce that constantly fights traffic jams, bomb blasts and weather related problems on an hourly basis. Mumbai-ites are preferred around the world since they are considered good workers.
Thus, both cities have a distinct flavour. But no comparision can be objective since our personal experiences definitely colour (or blur) the vision. And my preference of Auckland over Mumbai is my view. I still feel that there is no way you can compare two places since both are different for different people and colored by our own experiences.

Auckland and Mumbai

Auckland and Mumbai

On my first visit to India a friend asked me, “So, which country do you like more”. I said since both are different countries, it is difficult to compare them since both have their pros and cons. However, I would do more justice if I compared the two cities I have lived in, rather than generalize about countries.

Let’s look at the weather. Mumbai is hot and can make you sweat like no other city can. Strange as that may sound I find that sweating is actually good for you. First of all, you don’t have to run in search of toilets. Then, it rids the body of toxins. Mumbai has four distinct seasons: hot, muggy, very hot and very wet. But it is dependable. Auckland is cooler – at least, for me – but the climate is fickle bringing to mind the famous saying: If you don’t like the weather in Auckland, wait for ten minutes. The sun in Auckland is slightly more direct than the hot sun of Mumbai. However, since it is relatively cooler, I prefer Auckland but my knapsack always carries a semi-rain-proof jacket.

Mumbai has its own culture and is crazy about cricket, curry and films, especially since it is the headquarters of Bollywood the Indian version of Hollywood, which churns out more films than any other country. Auckland on the other hand, is much more beautiful and loves rugby, takeaways (especially fish and chips) and clubbing. I generally love, the comparatively better, crowd in Auckland but that can be highly subjective. I love the books available at Borders and Auckland City Library. The population is comparatively manageable whereas in Mumbai it seems that people are coming at you, all the time. There are a lot of cultural areas in India and as a city it is photographable at any time. There are mosques, temples, churches and people everywhere, doing everything all at once. Any moment is a Kodak moment and any picture is award winning. Auckland on the other hand, is an obviously more developed, cleaner and more beautiful but is definitely not as ‘happening’ as Mumbai, which sucks you into its web whether you like it or not. You want a roller coaster, drive! You want a movie; keep your eyes open! It is ridiculous and interesting. And someone said ‘It’s a city like no other”. That is not enough for me to prefer it to Auckland. Mumbai is more polluted, the crime rate is higher, the dirt rate is preposterous, poverty and civic sense is appaling and life can be an ordeal. Auckland has respect for the law, not fear and you will not see a policeman being bribed, openly or otherwise.

On the emotional side, Mumbai has mom and Auckland has Emma. My mom had a life threatening sickness and the last three years have seen me rush to Mumbai. My mom is my only emotional magnet in the city, in fact, the country. While Mumbai boasts of family values and attachment, it is very materialistic in its outlook and rather selfish just like any big city. While Auckland looks like a dog-eat-dog place that is cold, I found true love there and lost it too. Emma. My only connection to Mumbai is emotional since it has my old school and some left over friends and my dying mother. Auckland has Emma with whom I have parted ways and thus Auckland can be painful. But as I said before pain is subjective just like love, honor and life.

Thus, both cities are distinct and I can only color the difference with my personal experience but definitely not do justice to any city. There is no way you can compare two places since both are different for different people and colored by our own experiences.

Rebecca Malthus critic of my poem

Wow this work is really indicative of the area of New Zealand that you live in and the diversity that is the essence of what New Zealand has become or is becoming. It is also interesting for me because I am from the South Island and we do not have many hibiscus or maybe such an varied mix of people that the North Island has (well not where I am from anyway). Sesa is half Maori half Samoan? And Adam is the biblical Adam? The poem is indicating that you or the protagonist is struggling with a decision to choose love or family/tradition? I didn’t understand the reference to ’she is young and I am part of the whanau”, are you saying that she is related to the author/protagonist? That the relationship is incest? Or the reference is really because she is too young? I really liked the thought and reference to the biblical sense on what our society is based on, but I thought you could of made it a little clearer or perhaps make the poem longer in length to illustrate the struggle or the choice that the protagonist/author has to make. The line “I can never betray” contradicts itself or confuses the reader (me anyway) with the line “I find a new church and find a family.” Did the protagonist choose love? Is that why a new church must be found? Or did they simply choose to move away from the rigid family circle? What is the dark desire of purity?I really enjoyed the images of Manurawa and the half Samoan/half Maori girl but i think that the poem itself could be so much more if the struggle was included with in the main dialogue.

Travel Writing: Review

Subjecting Objects to Subjectivity

Ni’ihau: Paradise Lost

It is indeed in a rather negative frame of mind that Theroux leaves home as he bids goodbye to the love of his life and is plagued by fear of possible melanoma. This itself makes the reader feel, “Hey! This is probably going to a bit sorry”. What I definitely appreciate is the possible honesty (to a great extent, of course) with which Theroux relates his initial tale of woe. The paradox in Theroux’s search for the most untouched island Ni’ihau is his own nosiness.
No travel writing can be objective. Usually the subject (traveler) acts upon the object (place) and changes it to suit his purposes or pre-established biases. The object in this section of The Happy Isles of Oceania is the forbidden island of Ni’ihau.
Theroux, in search for the inviolate island Ni’ihau led by his own curiosity is disturbed to find the paradox of what is preserved and what is lost in Ni’ihau. For one the Robinson family has distributed Hawaiian Bibles with a generous vengeance. Then there is the idea of private property and ownership that is not keeping with the original culture of the place and an almost Islamic (what the western media popularly believes as Islamic) flavor to the Christianity that Theroux believes as ‘missionary paternalism’. Theroux disapproves of the island backward movement that banned hula and condemned the ‘original sin’ way of life. And while it is the men who work and the women who are homemakers, welfare checks, soda pop and canned fish is slowly changing the original lifestyle of a breed that prides its purity, which is falsified by the Japanese blood in them. Theroux is saddened by the loss of culture; a feeling that may have been accentuated by his own negative emotions combined with his passion to find the most perfect, untouched island. The Robinson family seems hell-bent on colonizing the place with its own ideas and is not willing to contaminate it with any foreign influence. Despite the ownership Theroux finds that the spirit of the people cannot be owned and the laws are stretched and the video machines and the radio are slowly breaking the shackles of a family that is eating the island’s spirit like a rat that destroys a mansion one bite at a time.
Theroux also remedies the situation by his own suggestions. He is slightly better than the Robinson family as he merely suggests remedies. However, we must not forget that at this juncture he is merely a nosy traveler and not one of the lord of the lands, who may started their decree as mere suggesters and may have used religious and other forms of blackmail to destroy Utopia.
Theroux’s sense of admiration is still intact as Ni’ihau is a curiosity minefield and is in keeping with Theroux’s philosophy: A tourist does not know where he is been and a traveler knows not where he is going. This line serves as a true inspiration to travelers and Theroux does give us a voyeuristic peep into an island that not many have seen at a time when it is changing. Theroux’s semi–historian status fuels our own enthusiasm and makes this part a fast, page–turner lest we lose the crucial metamorphosis of the island. We feel as if we are at a crucial juncture of history and anything can give. As a male my senses are also titillated by the Japanese bloodline that has seeped into the islanders. This is intriguing and also erotic. However, the fact that Happy Isles was not written in happier times in the traveler’s life and this section is the fag end of his travels makes me wonder if he is already homesick and a bit tired and thus some amount of negativity is natural. However, all in all the section serves as a wonderful subjective, historical experience, which just not be repeated. The time has passed and we are different people wanting different things and welcoming different subjective experience. All we can say here is, “Oh! So, this is how Paul felt in 1992.”
This also answers an age-old question that nagged me. Can we exhaust places by traveling? I think not. Because, every experience is unique and every feeling is original and the world is still where it always was, waiting to be explored. There are people to be met and experiences to be had.

Thread Ceremony: The Brahman Way

It was a proud moment for all and sundry when Murali’s sons got their
threads and were initiated into the world of sanskrit and religion. This
is 5000 year old Aryan tradition. And hey! Mohan assured me that the
Tamil people were the chosen ones of lord Shiva as he whispered the Tamil
language to Narad I think so the Tamils can know of his glory.
The food was mind blowing. Avial and Paisam and some awesome
unrecognisable vegetables that included Lady-Finger (Veggie) and Cabbage in
SriRam hall that is fortified on one side with grey stone walls like a
medieval castle. It was rainy (not raining just rainy) and dark and the
greenery around felt like 3 May 1990. That was when Murali married
Parvati or Shanti. Same person.
I met Dhruv who is smarter than his dad and taught me a thing or two
about Ramayan, the hindu epic especially the names of the smaller
characters. I also met Mohan on a previous afternoon over fruit juice called
Immuno booster and a book place in infiniti mall and talked about
everything. He made me a list of places i must visit and told me Natalie is
married. So I must give up on her I suppose.
Meeting the Iyer parents was a pious experience as it was nice
meeting the Fish Eating Bengali aunty and Rajamani the king of small and
large talk. Great to be amongst the Iyer brotherhood.

Shirdi’s Sugarcanes

Take a car. Get Chetan and Subhash. Drive at 80 k/h and through the concrete road into rural maharshtra. Have tea in a nondescript dhaba with Janta wafers and some cream biscuits. Look at the moonlit night and a train exhibiting white tubelights and curious passengers. It’s not a toy train.
Have Gujurati/Rajastani Rajdhani food and choose between mango juice or Bengali soft, tender, juicy Rosogullas. Look at the stars. The tiny ones you can’t see in city light. Sleep in a wannabe lodge with the fan on full throttle and Bolar’s snore that sound like the 9-11 twin towers coming down. Pay just 500 bucks and pray to Sai baba early on a queue-less morning. Have Manglorean Nasta. Go through sugarcane field full of goats and sheep and dogs and women in colorful attire. Have sugarcane juice and look at the canals of water and eat Mutton after the religious rites are over. Buy a bagful of marble white onions for sixty bucks and some much needed grapes and through the mountainous sunset and dark twinkle of bright stars have tea on roadside dhabbas and rush home.
That’s the way to do it.