Writings @ Ankur Mutreja by Ankur Mutreja (general ebook reader .TXT) 📕

The day being Sunday, all tourist attractions were closed, and I didn’t have time and energy to visit the off-city places; so, I just started wandering in the city on-foot and soon realized it was a decision well made. On the way, I also ended up meeting some tech-savvy, young Bengali students, who had been wandering with the help of GPS for more than a week then; so, they became my natural companions — anyways, I have a liking for the Tech-Savvy Youth. Our mutual goal was to reach the Golf Course from the Raj Bhavan, which was some 4-5 KMs distance. To be very frank, after some time, I felt out of place with them: first, they were taller than me; secondly, they were not sharing their GPS with me; thirdly, they were speaking an alien language; and fourthly, I think, they were also making fun of me in their alien language. Nevertheless, I persisted and tried ignoring them for the beauty of the place; and, voila, it worked.

Shillong is an extremely beautiful place. The distances are small and scenic; therefore, most people traverse them walking. I didn’t intrude into the neighborhoods, but, from a distance, the houses looked cozy and cute, well-knit into the whole with an identity; and, the big houses, like those of the Chief Justice and the Chief Secretary, were alluring. The pathways were decorated with plantation, and the litter was conspicuous by its absence. The Golf Course is at a depression to the Raj Bhavan, so most of the distance traversed was downhill, and therefore, the view was clear and penetrative, giving an impression of dominance over the landscape; and thus the feeling was king-size — many a times I just felt like jumping and roaring into the slopes like a tiger, but the GPS brought back sanity. However, as soon as I reached the Golf Course, I did run a lap but more elegantly like a stud — by then I had obviously forgotten about the deo, but, I think, the elegant run did impress some virgin mares.

Finally, after some running and sauntering on the Golf Course and some chit-chat on Aurobindo, we returned to the city centre — this time in a Taxi — exchanged pleasantries and moved on. Movement is the key; the pretty halts are sexy, but the eagerness to run together brings people/things/places close, with or without Deos. © 2014-2015 Ankur Mutreja

Chapter 2.1.2: Agartala City

Agartala is a city which is more or less unaffected by the capitalist onslaught, which prompted me to visit this city to check out whether the city offers any alternative promise. Well, let me state at the outset that I am disappointed. I would have much liked to understand the politics of the place because the management of the city is undoubtedly under the complete influence of the politicians, both organized and unorganized. However, without knowing the local language, it is next to impossible to understand the politics especially in a short span of 3-4 days. Nevertheless, let me state that Agartala City has thrown up a Congress MLA ever since 1998, but the Communists rule the Municipality; I am not sure whether the BJP/RSS have any significant presence in the city, but they have certainly set up bases in Tripura and are imparting preliminary training to their cadres, who, through their extrovert intervention in the societal matters especially involving disputes, might have gained some speedy presence in the politics of the city; and I saw one single poster of Mamta Banerjee near MBB college.

However, the politics also manifests itself in the day-to-day experiences of the people. Frankly speaking, I had no intention of getting involved in such experiences, but, unfortunately, I got involved nevertheless.

First and foremost, I have to make it clear that the majority of people there were very helpful; they, in fact, wouldn’t even differentiate between the outsiders and the locals, which might also be because the Bengalis, with whom I have had most of my interactions and who dominate the politics in the state, are themselves a kind of Hindu Bangladeshi refugees in Tripura, which has also led to insurgency situations in the past. However, there are a few experiences which make me believe that regional parochialism, which is an identity symbol of the right-wing politics, is also present in this Communists’ ruled city. And, one bad experience takes away in a single stroke what ten good experiences might have produced in the past!

Now coming to my bad experiences:

Urban Transportation

The People there use shared auto-rickshaws for urban transportation, which works pretty well and offers great flexibility, but only till the time the arbitrary rules of the rickshaw drivers don’t spoil the game. I must say I traversed the whole city and beyond on these auto-rickshaws pretty comfortably until I could very clearly see the discomfort of the rickshaw drivers in entertaining the outsiders/tourists. The manifestation of the discomfort was also very interesting and also amusing. Ever since morning, I would be asked by the rickshaw drivers whether I was carrying the exact fare amount like Rs. 7, Rs. 8, etc., in exchange, to which I offered conciliation by agreeing to forego the small return-exchange amounts. However, at least one rickshaw driver threw me out of the rickshaw because I was not carrying the exact fare, and he was a Bengali. Incredible but true! The reason was not that I was not carrying the exact fare amount as I offered the same conciliation to him as well, to which his argument was that I was traveling alone, the rickshaw capacity was four persons, and there were two other passengers already sitting in the auto rickshaw, and, if he would get a pair in the way, he would lose on them; so, I should either offer him the exact fare or else pay him double the fare so that he could compensate for the prospective fare loss. Of course, this argument is arbitrary, incoherent, irrational, too far-fetched, and a clear manifestation of the unwelcome attitude/bias towards outsiders. But, why should I blame the entire system for this one off-the-cuff personal incident? Well, the answer is simple: it is because this might well not be an off-the-cuff incident unless I was being targeted by the bigger political forces, which, of course, was not the case. But, the bigger problem is that the system allows for such an occurrence to take place. Everything has been left to the local politicians, who, with their lack of knowledge and wisdom, leave scope for such arbitrary and biased behavior through the arbitrary systems and rules set up by them. I wonder which sensible system can allow for dislodging of a person for not carrying exact fare amount. This might also be a problem with the regional transport mini-buses, in which I did not travel. Everything would have been fine if the state was offering the travel options for the tourists: they organize tourist packages through their tourism department, but, for that, they require minimum of three tourists, else the single person has to pay triple the amount. Anyways, the tourism website itself encourages the tourists to travel in locally available travel options by offering advisories like the tourists could take a bus to so and so place and locally available options like autos/jeeps, etc., thereon to the ultimate destinations. I don’t think this kind of urban transportation system can offer any alternative.

Fooding

Eating-out seems to be a serious problem in this city. Of course, there were five star restaurants, but they were not viable options for all. The problem is that there were no regular economically-priced restaurants like the southern Udupis and the northern Dhabas. There were plenty of road-side fast food joints, which offered momos, rolls, omelette, etc., but these things can’t be eaten at all the times, nor were those places very hygienic. There were some cafe houses which offered pastries, sweets, etc., and they were pretty good, but they can’t fill up for the proper restaurants. The restaurants were either below-par or too expensive. Now, coming to my experience in the restaurant I visited. The restaurant wasn’t really on the economical side because the prices of the vegetable curries ranged from Rs. 125 to Rs 250, which is definitely not economical. A good lunch for two would drill a hole of at least Rs. 500 in the pocket, so I would consider it an expensive restaurant. The service was greedy, pompous and indifferent: If I would ask for water, the attendant would present bottled water by default, irrespective of the order; if I would ask for Veg. Biryani, the attendant would argue that Biryani can’t and shouldn’t be consumed without a side-curry, so I should order one; if I would order for a soft-drink, he would bring the bottle at the table, open it right there, and leave it for me to pour it in the glass. The food was good but the service was pathetic, but I still left the tip. Why?!!

But, what difference does it make? To be very frank, it doesn’t make any difference to me. I am against fine dining and like hygienically cooked, reasonably priced food to be served to all and sundry. However, the problem here is that it was supposed to be a Communist city, but the people over there determined the statuses by a person’s capacity to spend on food, which is obnoxious. I had a small talk with a fast food joint manager/owner who was running the joint with the namesake of a big popular restaurant, and he kept stressing the point that the high status elite gentry could only go in the namesake restaurant; so, the conclusion is inevitable that there was recognized an elite class which enjoyed the services of the five star restaurants, but the others ate unhygienic food; this is worst than capitalist cities.

I have had a seriously bad experience in lodging as well, but I am not discussing it because it has no established correlation with the scheme of this writing. ©2014-2015 Ankur Mutreja

Chapter 2.1.3: Auroville

(As I wrote in June-July 2014)

I am here in Auroville for vacation when the Aurovillians are vacationing elsewhere, so I am trying to make friends with dogs, cats and cows — no luck with the dogs till now though the cats seems to have got attracted with my looks, but the cow milk is for kids and, anyways, I don’t like milk — and this is actually the real challenge in Auroville, for the man here has ingrained politeness. However, the most intriguing thing is the diffusion of politeness even among the local Tamilians. But, that doesn’t satisfy my cynical self. I know I am doing injustice to this place by writing below what I am first because I have been here only for two days, so it’s premature, and secondly it is also lopsided and speculative.

I have some serious doubts about the feasibility of this experiment. The stated purpose of Auroville is to establish statuses on the basis of knowledge and self-worth