Indianish Snippets

Once again, after a long hiatus, I sit down and try and write another blog about my experiences in India. This will be one that details a collection of things that have happened in connection with work, but don’t really have anything to do with work, and are quintessentially Indian. I guess it makes these events all the more incredible for me given they have such ‘serious’ ramifications, i.e. you have to interpret these as not just isolated weird experiences.

Git orf mah land

GreenOil has finally completed the purchase of some suitable land for the Power Plant near our current base in Samode, Rajasthan. This process in itself was a drawn-out one, which I may have alluded to in previous blogs. As it was, we needed to purchase two land holdings. One being the main land where the plant will be built and composting operations will take place, the other being a slice of land where an access road will be built connecting the land to a public road.

Complications started after the road land deed was signed, and we sat down with the owner of the main land. The main land was actually two plots- one of which was a tiny ‘sliver’ of about 0.11 Ha., alongside the main land. Suddenly the seller presented us with his view of the deal: “Since I am giving you the ‘sliver’ for free (i.e. the total land he was selling to us didn’t quite meet his expected selling price of 4.5 lakh per bigha) all that I ask is that I be allowed to build a house on the same size area of land on your property.”(!) Remember, GreenOil are building a Power Plant, on land acquired with funds from LGT, a major funding partner. So of course we said no way, it’s not possible, our board would never allow it. The seller, knowing now that we had already bought the road access land, was obviously in the stronger position. “OK then, if your board doesn’t approve it, then my board doesn’t approve the land sale.” At the end of the day, and at the end of all this time spent looking for suitable land, negotiating prices and brokering this land deal- what can you do? Our CEO didn’t see a way out, so now we have an agreement to let the previous owner occupy 0.11 Ha. in a location at our discretion on our Power Plant site for a period of 99 years, only he and his family can live there, he cannot sell the house, etc. etc. The current planning has his plot located in close proximity to the 600 kW generator…

A visit from the local Mafia

Monday we were back in the office in Delhi, where we receive a good number of visitors every day poking their heads in to ask directions, inquire why the German Bakery is closed, or ask for Baksheesh (a ‘gift’). Today’s visitors were some of the latter, but a rather special breed. These were representatives of the local hermaphrodite Mafia.

Hermaphrodites are something more than just a curiosity in India, they are genuinely feared. They make themselves perfectly obvious, because most people’s interaction with them takes one of two forms:

•          Giving them a ‘donation’ to avoid any back luck the man-ladies might bring to them, or
•          Being recipients of said bad luck (new-born babies are especially susceptible to this type of bad luck)

Normally, you encounter the hermas (if you’ll permit me such an abbreviation) in crowded places- buses, trains, etc. They follow a similar begging style to most in India. They’ll come right up to you and perhaps touch you on the shoulder, and generally let you know that they’re serious about the bad-luck givin’ if they don’t do some receivin’. So far I have avoided any bad-luck with the hermas even though I haven’t ever given them any money.

So as I said, this time our office received a personal visit from the hermas. There were two of them, demanding their baksheesh. I don’t ever hand over baksheesh to religious types, and I figure these guys are in the same league. My boss though, is both more religious and has less patience to wait for these types to leave, so he handed over quite the sum of Rs 100. On this occasion though, that wasn’t enough. There then began an animated discussion about the ‘amount’ of baksheesh that would be required. Words like ‘diwali’ (the biggest Indian festival of the year- just finished) were bandied about and some discussion ensued, until my boss then asked me for Rs 500 (as he didn’t have any more cash on him). That was handed over. But still the ‘negotiations’ didn’t stop. Turns out the current going rate for avoiding the curse was Rs 2,400.

Let me tell you a little more about what a curse from the hermas involves. As I was telling you earlier, a normal encounter with a herma in a public place where you don’t pay the non-curse fee results in a simple curse, which involves the exhibition of cursing genitalia. I would also suspect that if you’re sitting down in the train when said cursing takes place it could be a little uncomfortable. Cursing on an organised scale though, is a little more sinister. The herma mafia normally live together, using their daily gains to eek out a comfortable life for all (all hermas, that is). Therefore, they also have quite a curse-armoury at their disposal. So non-payment generally results in the threat of a visit of all the local hermas, who will return and give you and your office some kind of super-curse (accompanied, one suspects by a super-exhibition of cursing genitalia). To expand on an earlier point, one of their best money-making enterprises involves the hermas searching out new born babies and threatening the genitalia revelation. Normally the frightened family hands over whatever is necessary.

Our negotiations went on- the hermas played some kind of a good-herma/ bad-herma routine, with one threatening to bring the bad-luck curse down on our operation, and the other appealing to the good nature of our CEO to hand over some more cash- after all, it did have something to do with his religion, this whole curse thing. Every now and again they addressed me, with the word ‘money’, but I had had enough of this whole routine by now (donations out of a religious respect ok, but you can’t really demand a certain minimum price for not cursing people and still hold any sort of standing with me). I think they ended up getting about Rs 700 before moving onto the next poor sod.

What happens when Delhi tries to stamp out corruption

Yesterday in the office saw what I thought was just some normal ‘news of the day’ from my CEO in the morning. Apparently a high court judge had had enough of the reports of corruption amongst government officials and police officers and had decided to do something about it: today had been declared “condemn illegal buildings day”. In Delhi people build when they have enough money to. They often don’t own the land, and rarely do they get permits to be able to construct a structure (and most don’t get proper builders to do it either). ‘Please report illegal building’ plead the signs around housing areas. So the police yesterday had been charged with a massive operation to ‘shut down’ any illegal building that they could find. Now normally, of course, the police (and local government officials) are also supposed to shut down illegal buildings. And I’m sure that enough illegal building operations get reported. However, usually the shutting down procedure involves a trip to the illegal building site, where some negotiations take place, and some money changes hands. It works, everyone is happy (apart from the law-abiding neighbours). On this day, however, the police had to look like they were doing a proper job.

So the day passed relatively normally until about 2pm, when our landlord appeared at the office entrance, and promptly pulled the security shutter down, leaving me with no front exit and a darkened room. My CEO (who had been at lunch), came in through the back way telling me that it was complete chaos outside, and that all the other offices in our block had their shutters down and were locked up. Our landlord was frantically negotiating with the scores of police that had turned up not to knock a hole in the wall or put up a condemned sticker. A condemned sticker (or a hole in your wall), even if you had all the correct papers, meant a forced trip to the local government office, and possibly weeks of wait before that condemned sticker was repealed. You desperately wanted to avoid that. After 1 hour of talks the shutter was pulled up again to reveal just how many officers + beat cops (about 200) were standing around outside. They were going through the local neighbourhood and bashing holes in the walls of unoccupied buildings, and I guess they could have reasonably expected some resistance. Mostly I suppose it was the way they chose to conduct this operation that floored me while I was sitting inside my office for that hour trying to work as quietly as possible and wondering what would happen if some cop decided to open the shutter. But then I guess they thought this is the only way anything will get done.

My boss says that the business of bribes and illegal building should return to normal tomorrow.

[Samode, 10.11.2011]

Ownership and Responsibility in India


After reading "The White Tiger" by Aravind Adiga (which I recommend- perhaps not the best writing in the world, and it could turn out to be far too simplistic a reading on the 'relationships' between the rich and poor in India- but as an introductory expose I thought it rather good), talking recently with my Indian boss and walking through some of the public places in Delhi, I have been thinking about a common thread that runs through all three. Perhaps my boss put it best when he said that in India, and Indian society, there is a lack of ownership or responsibility for doing something.


The most obvious case is public works (that's where the parks come in). Most parks in Delhi were once carefully designed, and have had a fair bit of money invested in them- in structures, in plants, in sidewalks, ponds, lakes, etc. Yet on the weekends (even on the designated weekend 'day'- Sunday) they are all but deserted. Go into these parks and you'll figure out that they're not quite empty- every bench, for example is occupied- normally by one guy, who's lying down on it sleeping. The other creatures that can be found by carefully scrutinising dense foliage and hidden corners will be the couples, who are canoodling somewhere away from the prying eyes of the neighbours who wouldn't be in the park anyway (To give you an idea of the notorious reputation that parks have, one young male aspirant told me that his girlfriend was not even allowed to tell her parents that she would be going to Lodhi Gardens- alone or accompanied- because of the reputation it has). Parks are also distinguished by any lake being completely drained, or having stinking water sitting in the bottom, grass being un-mown or bare, and of course rubbish thrown into any of the above places that are in relatively good natural condition.


I ask myself the natural question here- in a city such as Delhi, hot as it is with concrete and high-rise everywhere (although it is self-touted as "one of the greenest cities in the world"), are these beautiful parks, so lovingly created, left to decay to such a state? Maintaining a park in India must be one of the easiest things to do- you have no shortage of labour, at the very least to pick up the rubbish- but also to do the simple task of gardening, pruning, preparing soil for flowers, maintaining areas of grass, etc.


Too expensive? In almost every neighbourhood surrounding these parks in Delhi, small households pay a helper who is normally available 12 hours a day to clean for them, cook, wash their clothes, water their plants, do the shopping, etc. The average wage (at least in Vasant Kunj) is Rs 2000.- per month. (that's about $40). And *every* household has one, so it's not as if these people are earning on the bottom of the pile. In fact, other workers around the complex who iron clothes or wash cars aspire to these positions. So can't the city afford to pay some gardners Rs 2000 a month? Of course they can, and they probably already do. Here's where the ownership comes in.


Now this is a little bit of second-hand information, but here's how the system apparently works. Someone government employee (probably quite high up) has the job of maintaining Delhi's parks. He receives a certain amount per month to do so (for equipment, wages, etc.). He reports every month that the amount has been spent as per budgeted- this equipment bought, these guys paid, this much rubbish collected, etc. If anyone doubts this, they can ask the independent assessor who checks the park every week, to make sure that people are working, and that the park is clean. He verifies that all is as reported. Of course, all that really takes place is the bare minimum of work, and money changing hands to make sure everything is reported as completed correctly. The employee gets to keep all the money that he hasn't spent keeping the verifying officials and any other loud-mouths quiet. And none of the people in the chain feel as if they are doing anything wrong- why actually do the work and put your neck on the line? You only risk pissing some more people off? It's much more work for me to actually DO something than to simply stay with the status quo- plus I don't get paid any more... In fact I'm more likely to be rewarded for not kicking up a fuss and keeping the whole system intact. It's an inherently perfect system (as long as you don't worry about what the system outputs actually are).


What would be really interesting to see would be someone who was prepared to take on the system- and in this particular case it would be so easy. Just put one guy in charge of Delhi's signature parks, give him a reasonable budget, and let him try and really recreate the glory that they were once built with. Give him some room for improving them, if you want- I don't know why people in Delhi go to parks, but there must be a reason I see more people in Vasant Vatika than Lodhi Gardens (Vasant Vatika is a strip of grass near the suburban blocks where I live, and Lodhi or Lodi Gardens is probably the most famous park in Delhi).

Vasant Vatika

Lodhi Gardens

The idea that changing the current state would/should be so simple got me thinking about the whole idea of lack of ownership of these situations in India (as I said it's a theme that reoccurs in the business environment here as well, and not just with fellow employees, but also in things as crucial to a sense of ownership as customer service in India). How do you change a system where the lack of ownership ultimately results in there being such a huge level of corruption, and huge barriers to doing anything with a true sense of responsibility? It must start from the top- someone has to take some responsibility for actually doing what they agreed to do in the first place (I would say what they wanted to do, but that might take some major restructuring in India ;-). But if you agree to do something, you agree to take responsibility for that thing, right? At least the logic seems to follow for me. So the person responsible, instils that same sense of ownership in all those who work under them. They has the power, and they should have the qualities to do that. If it comes from them, then there is a chance that even if those below are not immediately open to the idea, people can be found that will be. Once the system starts to get that sense of ownership passing down through it, then perhaps things at least might start changing.


And I'll be able to sit in a nice clean, shady, green area of a park in Delhi and enjoy it with the rest of an India that feels like they own a little part of having created it.