Posts Tagged ‘Noida’

Girls just wanna have fun…


2011
07.24

A COUPLE of months back I visited a school on the outskirts of Noida. The address didn’t mention a sector number, which made it tough to locate as people in Noida are now programmed to think in sectors. “What do you expect? This is a poor community,” the principal said. My experience culminated in an official bit of writing for my magazine Careers360. However, am penning the unofficial bits here, plus pics.

Coming back to the princi, she and her late hubby set up the school several decades back and managed it on the funds they raised by charging higher fees for another school they ran for those comparatively well off. Not well off but comparatively well off. Both were located in the same compound. We chatted for a while and then I pushed off to meet a group of young school students who had worked on some film projects.

Chatting with school girls in English-Hindi

I felt nervous! …on the account of the poor state of my Hindi. On top of that I have an unpronounceable name in these parts. Meru, Miril, Merin, Maru. When I entered the classroom I was greeted by a teacher and her 42 female students from Class 7 to 11. Some with pigtails. All looked like they had be prepping to give their best for this interaction! So, we began interacting and I felt like I was their teacher for about 20 minutes. But then they opened up and started speaking freely. Perhaps meanings are in people and not in words, and just like canines the young uns’ respond to a friendly vibe.

There were one or two eager beavers who had an answer for every question. Now this proved to be a problem as I wanted more perspectives, especially from the shy ones. So, I packed them off to pose along with their storyboards for our young photographer Rajat, an intern from a design school. And bingo, the discussion opened up and more young minds dived in.

In fact, some of them spoke to me in English even when I posed a question in Hindi. Perhaps, they thought it was most disastrous and wanted to save me any further embarrassment. Or perhaps they wanted to impress me with their English! Either way it was both amusing and endearing!

These girls seems quite determined to be ambassadors of their community. One said she wants to be a doctor and treat the people in her locality “as the govt. does nothing”. Another wanted to be a software engineer. One girl wanted to be an airhostess. And two wanted to documentary film makers. The fact that they had heard of this concept was very heartening to know.

School walls = artist's canvas

We bid the girls farewell after distributing Cadbury chocolates for all, and walked around the school and discovered a creative streak in the students. The walls of the classroom were their canvas, and sketches of the Gods and Goddesses, cows, dogs, birds were their inspiration.

sipping for the shutterbug...

As we wrapped up our visit, I noticed that Rajat was being coyly “checked out” by the girls in the vicinity. He wanted to photograph them drinking water from the taps outside, and they posed willingly in between sips and giggles!

Pictures: Rajat Rao from Raffles (design school)

Share

Hearing impaired boys and girls find a voice


2010
09.09

AS we enter the gates of the Noida Deaf Society, three young lads gesture animatedly to each other, between sips of chai. Our presence perks their interest, and they point out the entrance of the building. Ruma, Director of NDS, is in the midst of a frenetic day; the training school for the hearing impaired has recently relocated to a new venue in Sector 36, Noida, and students and potential students hover in corridors, stairs, lawns and classrooms.

Clouds of movement everywhere as they gesture vigorously in sign language. There may be silence, but they are talking A LOT! The vibe is positive, the atmosphere, vibrant!

In a classroom, young boys and girls are being taught sign language – the primary medium of communication, and Step 1 in the learning process. Lip reading is not a part of the curriculum, especially since we are a country of 27 regional tongues; it’s tough enough to learn one new language! In India, a woman is referred to by placing your index finger on your right nostril (since women wear nose rings) and men are represented by the twirling of an imaginary moustache.

In the basement, three English language classes were being conducted, simultaneously in one large hall, only possible since there is silence in the room. But if you look more closely, students are engrossed in their respective lessons, and there’s an energy that is missing in the average Indian classroom. They are “listening” attentively. So engrossed was one young lad, that when my handbag bored into his backside, he did not even notice. He was busy trying to get the teacher’s attention. On one blackboard, I can see tenses listed out. Expanding one’s vocabulary is Step 2 in the learning process, it seems.

And finally Step 3, learning an employability skill.

In yet, another classroom, students are sitting at various computer workstations. NIIT has partnered with the school in the area of IT training. In a classroom in Sector 29, they are learning DTP and graphic design, which prepares them to work in any medium, which requires the knowledge of photo editing, creating layouts, photo retouching, etc. The graphic design programme focuses on design software like Photoshop, Corel Draw, In Design, Flash and Simple Animation, students have been successfully placed in companies such as NIIT, Macro Graphics, Maruti Motor Sports and Vivek Sahni Design. The teachers are also hearing impaired; they entered the training school as students and having shown potential, were moved into the role of the instructor.

On a different note, whilst India Inc talks itself hoarse about the unemployability crisis wrt the average Indian graduate (a degree but no skill), a training school in Noida is equipping young hearing impaired adults with specific skills – graphic design, office management and MS Office, to name a few. Throw in some professional grooming, and you have a job-ready individual who may not be a graduate, but has skills for an entry-level position. He or she may have completed Class 10 or 12, perhaps through the Open University (after much grief, courtesy the abysmal levels of expertise in teaching the hearing impaired in this country). IT company Mphasis absorbs students from the Noida Deaf Society, and I am told they earn over 10 K a month.

This learning experience does not merely present earning potential – it signals the end of solitude in a world of sound, goodbye to boredom during verbal conversations, the beginning of mental stimulation, the start of a new life mantra.

Students come from far and wide and from all stratas of society – North, South, East, West. The fee is minimal, and free for those with no money. When parents hear of the institute they make a beeline to the place, since there is no single resource institution for the hearing impaired, unlike a NAB, which is of immense help for the blind.

As is the case with all good things, the effort is the fruit of an individual’s personal drive and passion; the school kicked off in Ruma’s home with precisely five students in 2004, after she learned sign language at the AYJNIHH office here in Lajpat Nagar (New Delhi). Keeping one’s wits about one in the world of the hearing impaired is a must, and much credit must go to Ruma, who is a human dynamo, radiating energy, positivity and dollops of playfulness in her interactions with the students.

The school is currently looking to expand its campus placement scenario and HR honchos must note that the school has a pretty streamlined interface in place.

So, far students have been absorbed in non-IT skilled positions by KFC, Costa Coffee, ITC Hotels, Leela Kempinski, Shangi La Hotel, Hilton Garden Inn, and packaging units in export houses such as Indeutsche and Rdnik Exports. And in IT positions with BPOs and IT companies such Mphasis, Nucleus Software and NIIT, Macro Grahics, Maruti Motor Sports, Vivek Sahni Design and others.

For more specifics log on to http://www.noidadeafsociety.net/

Share

NEW RESOLUTIONS


2009
12.22

Every year I make New Year resolutions, and every year I break em’. But in 2009, I managed to crack one resolution that I been evading me since 2007: driving a car.

I suppose sometimes circumstance is a necessary motivator. In Mumbai I would hope into an auto, and be on my way, whether the destination was a nightclub, coffee shop or work. In Delhi, and particularly Noida, you don’t want to know the auto men. They rattle off the first figure that pops into their heads. So, I registered myself at a driving school managed by a moody, regimental ole’ ex-army man, and managed to learn how to get myself from Point A to Point B in a second-hand, Silky Silver Alto (with power steering!).

The second New Year resolution was to get fit. I have worked out, run more and eaten healthier this year, than ever before. Amending ‘losing weight’ to ‘getting fit’ did the trick. I now relish the idea of taking a power walk, running in the park and doing tummy crunches. Not to mention, other perks like getting to know the neighbourhood better and communing with nature, whatever part of it is available in this city.

For instance, I know that the street dogs on Florence Nightinglae Lane are well-fed. Every morning, the watchman at one of the bungalows, puts out a bowl of food for the little mongrels. One chilly winter morn, they were attired in the cutest little doggie sweaters (sweater-clad dogs — mostly pedigree — are a common sight in Delhi winters). The squirrels in the Rose Garden get to nibble on glucose biscuits every morning, which they do with a vengeance, before scuttling off when humans get dangerously close.

On a different note, I recently misplaced my credit card and it turns out that I left it whilst paying the bill at my fav hub, The Living Room up in Hauz Khas village. The cashier smiled a queer little smile, and pulled out a stack of credit cards, all neatly wrapped up in white serviettes. How many drunk people are there in Delhi?

Share

The story of a driver


2009
09.04

Inspired by Balram Halwai, a shamefully poor village boy-turned-entrepreneur (shameful for the Indian Government ie), in The White Tiger, I must share the humble tale of a college student-turned-cab driver-turned- automobile employee, right here in Noida.

Before the days of my wee Alto, I was dependent on sub-moronic autowallahs and private cab service drivers, who charged me a mini-fortune and tested my patience, with the constant haggling, extreme rudeness and lack of punctuality. I ought to have listened to my friend, a long-time resident of Delhi, who advised way back: when in Delhi you must get a car before you start even looking for a house!

Then came along V, a cab driver who arrived on time, one fine morning to take me to Delhi and back. He came through a well-recommended cab service. Alan joined me in two hour’s time, and we had a smooth travel experience. Next time round, we skipped the cab company and called V, directly, because as Alan pointed out to me, he was punctual, polite and he had a good stereo system in his wee Alto cab.

Whilst I completed my meetings in the vicinity, Alan treated V to a cup of coffee and a sandwich at Café Coffee Day, thus getting to know that he was a 22-year old college dropout, who now drove a cab because his father, a farmer by profession and the only earning member of the family was paralysed from the waist downwards, post an accident.

He also gauged that V was a bright kid, and it was an absolute shame that he didn’t have the opportunity we had. Also, his English was poor, and according to V this stood between him and a better paying, full-time job.

Unfortunately, the cab business is unpredictable. On some days there is no business and some days there are two or three gigs, of which he can max squeeze in one or two. So now, having to support a wife, a mother, a difficult younger brother who was very angry at the prospect of not being able to attend college due to the lack of funds and bed-ridden father, whose medical bills cost a pretty penny, life was reduced to a hand-to-mouth existence.

He aspired to be a policeman, but failed the test by literally a stone’s throw due to some misinformation; the shot-put round fell short by a few feet because the minimum distance required was a little less than what he had practiced for. And there are no second chances, unless one is willing shell out some money.

He shared his disillusionment with the Indian police authorities with us, over some veg pizza and coke, and we listened, empathetically. So, he gave up his police dreams and continued to drive us around regularly. One day he confessed that we were lucky for him; on the days when he was with us, he inevitably ended up with a second gig, minutes after he dropped us off.

He and Alan became fast friends and even indulged some guy talk (of course I wasn’t around during these intimate confidences). The latter compiled a CD of English music, everything from Snap to Buddha Bar, which V could play (and impress) for international clients, and otherwise. On some levels, I think he was fascinated by Alan’s personality, his liberal thoughts and unconventional family background, himself hailing from a conservative, traditional joint family. He told me one day,” Ma’am, maine iss thurahuh ka aadmi khabhi nahi millah (I have never met anyone like Alan).”

Then it was time for Alan to leave, and as we drove him to the airport, both V and I, were consumed by sadness to see him go, yet, happy that he was finally on his way to fulfilling his destiny. On the way home, V confessed that he may never seem him again, but he would listen to the CD and reminisce about the good times.

The story doesn’t end here. In fact, it’s probably just begun. Soon after Alan’s departure, I connected V with some friends who needed a cab service to pick up and drop them to work and back home. They cut a deal, which provides him a regular income.

Lady luck shone her light on him even further; he got a job with an automobile company in the quality check department. Now, he just rents out his car to the folks concerned and still managing to keep his full-time job.

But I doubt he’ll stay in quality check long. This boy should go places…sans committing any homicides.

Share

The Great Wall Of Noida


2009
09.03

It’s 22.23 hours, and a violent storm has unleashed its wrath on Noida. Thundering, lightening,  a vile gail and a massive downpour. The lights went out for a few minutes, but thanks to the full power backup facility, it’s back.

I’m not so sure about the rest of the city, which does not have the luxury of renting a place with full power backup; you see the electricity department in noida is in shambles. The lights may go out even 20 times a day (Alan once counted!).  In fact before I arrived in these parts of the country, I had never even heard of the term ‘full power back-up’, which essentially means that you shell out a pretty penny every month for a steady supply of electricity that supports all your electronic gadgets, right from AC to TV to geyser, and is generated by…well…a generator. This one is a central one though, a kin to central air-conditioning.

On a different note, the water is undrinkable. It’s hard as a rock, and your intestines are sure to get ulcers if you drink it, everyday. To soften it, one has to either purchase an RO (7 grand approximately), or a regular supply of mineral water.

I often wonder what the poor folks do. Now, if only Lady Mayawati channelised those funds, which are being pumped into building a mammoth Dalit memorial (I call it The Great Wall Of Noida), to create better amenities in the town, and the rest of the state.

The spookiest thing about the memorial are the umpteen statues erected across the venue, and covered with a purple robes. They cut eerie figures, as you drive down Film City, as if they might spring to life at any moment.

Share

MAMA SAYS…


2009
07.23

I speak to my mother, twice a day. Once, during my morning expedition to work in a shared cab, amidst a din of loud Hindi/ Punjabi music (a snooty friend once asked if I was in a very downmarket place!), five groggy-eyed people trying to take a nap in a Tata Safari, that’s thundering down the streets of Delhi at the speed of light, only this ride is bumpy and jerky, and not recommended for anyone with a bad back. On the bright side, it has an air-condition, which works. And the driver is a pleasant chap (by Delhi standards this is superlative).

I speak to mom once again in the evening, before I hit the sack. She wants to know how the day went, if I practiced driving, et al.

This morning, mama said excitedly,” Your horoscope has good things to say about you, today.” So, I asked her to read it aloud. As she looked for the morning paper, she said,” You know, I read only YOUR horoscope everyday, and when it is good, I feel happy.”

I instantly felt a warm, fuzzy feeling, inside. Henceforth, she will be reading to me every morning to me, on the phone, whilst Lassie messes about cantankerously, in the background, with her bottles and balls.

PS: I took the car for a spin after dark, and I realised that Noida is full of speed demons, in the evening, all racing in every direction. Banshees wail, as bikers honk, incessantly.

Share

Elevate. Non.


2009
05.31

In 2006, when I was working with Rediff.com’s feature section, I read a piece on Delhi’s brand new nightclub Elevate. My pal G mentioned that the hottest, sleekest guys and gals, visit the club, and that on Saturday nights, entering the club is a challenge.

Non!

Coincidentally, Elevate is located in Noida, just 10 km from my house. So, we decided to drop in. The cover charge was Rs 1,500 for a couple. I was frisked by some woman who was rather overzealous in her search. We entered only to discover that the place was empty.

There was a private party on the top floor, though one would never have guessed it from the lack of energy in the place. We paid Rs 1,000 for a bitter caprioska, and a Redbull and Vodka, with no vodka in it. By this time all the seats were taken, and so, we sat at the edge of the dance floor.

A very grumpy looking bouncer/ usher told us in a gruff manner that sitting at the edge of the dance floor was not allowed. So, we moved to a very uncomfy looking rexin couch. I folded my legs, and suddenly Mr gruff informed us: no feet on the couch, unless we kicked our shoes, off! Exasperated, I wondered is this a club or detention?

We continued lounging for the next one hour, as people walked in, and some terrible music played. My pal Al’s prediction was that when the Bollywood music kicked off, everyone would be bumping and grinding. And it turns out they did!

We picked up two more Redbulls, and beat a hasty exit. This place was a rip-off. And overrated piece of work. The waiters and bouncers and ushers, had zero hospitality skills. And the venue emanated a very cold, uncool vibe.

Next, we proceeded to Mamoushee, a rest0bar on the next floor. Micheal Jackson’s songs were played in the background, the drinks were nominally priced, the food was good and the service was warm, friendly and gracious. Mamoushee was like Vegas compared to Elevate.

Elevate was a buzz kill.

Update:

We cooked up more appropriate new names for the club.

Elefake.

Hellevate.

Share

HOT: RECYCLED OFFICES!


2009
05.14

My company has finally relocated from Noida (in Uttar Pradesh) to MG Road (in Delhi), which is en route to Gurgaon (in Haryana).

The two office spaces couldn’t be more opposite in character. The erstwhile one was swanky, with an assembly-line production of white cubicles and cabins. We had a pantry, a crèche, a table-tennis space and a gym (which sadly, no one seemed to use).

The new haunt is a nightclub-turned-office, which was originally designed with somewhat rugged interiors. You have wood and stone on the floor, and whitewashed walls. The brushstrokes are still visible, on purpose, of course.

Next door you can purchase a beanbag in the most vibrant colours for 700 bucks (some say you can bargain for as little as 300!). And we eat lunch in the adjoining resto-bar, whilst lounging on plush red sofas.

Some don’t like the space, but I think it has potential and may turn out to be a real project – in a good way.

Share

Mumbai to NOida


2009
02.25

So, the big move has put an end to my singing days. The only singing I do these days is in the bathroom, or rather before I step into ze shower.

The old geezer takes it’s own sweet time (how very Dilli of it) to heat things up, and in the interim the laptop blares and I sing along, and even get theatrical about it, courtesy all the space and the solitude, which allows one to display, completely eccentric behaviour, sans any quizzical brows being raised.

Phew!

Share