Trip to India in 2008

MY VISIT TO THE VILLAGE OF AMADPORE, GUJARAT, INDIA

BETWEEN 21ST JANUARY TILL 27TH FEBRUARY, 2008


As I landed at Mumbai airport at 11:30 am, to my amazement I walked

through the Immigration and customs without any hassle. Four years ago, when my wife and I

visited India, the amount of hassle we faced in both departments was unbelievable.

The porters wanted money in dollars! They would escort you to a less busy place and

demand money. I have heard that the money they got was shared with the officers of

both departments. It seemed that all that is over now. I walked through the customs

area without any check. May be I was lucky this time. I had nothing to declare and

hide.

Although it was sunny outside the terminal, I felt cold. My cousin

who came to receive me took my baggage to the people carrier he travelled in from

the village Amadpore. He was accompanied by a driver whose business was to ferry

visitors to and from the airport.

Soon we headed for the nearby highway connecting Mumbai and

Delhi. Amadpore was located some 250 kilometers north of Mumbai. Once out in the

sunshine, I began to feel warm and comfortable. My cousin confirmed that the

weather was exceptionally cold this time. The Western Ghats mountain range soon

disappeared as we made way northwards. I observed people, wrapped in blankets and

sweaters, going about their business. The highway that was very rough and narrow in

the past, is made wide giving smooth and non-friable surface. There were small

crudely built bumps along the road. The stray cattle, goats and dogs lazily walked

on both sides of the road. Some even ventured to cross the highway. A keeper took his

time to move the animals to one side of the road. The frequently passing trucks were

carrying far more goods then the tonnage specified by the law!

We stopped for a break at a place called Charoti . When I saw the

freshly painted building, I assumed that the place would be clean and hygienic inside.

How wrong could I be? Inside, the tables and chairs appeared dirty, mosquitoes were

flying about. The waiters’ uniforms and the stainless steel cups containing drinking

water were dirty. The customers were shouting at the top of their voices. They were

drivers and tourists with children. Those who came from the USA on holidays were

absolutely shocked seeing the conditions of the place.

I dared not to drink or eat anything from the restaurant but my cousin

and the driver had a lunch. If I had eaten anything, I would have had stomach

problems within a matter of hours. I experienced this in the earlier trips I had made.

This time I drank filtered water from a bottle and ate mini cheese biscuits I took from

the UK. I was constantly waving about my arms to shift the flying mosquitoes. I then

went to sit inside the car until cousin and the driver arrived.

Our journey to Amadpore took four hours. Before the new highway

road was built, it took eight hours to reach the destination! On arrival at the house, I

was greeted by my uncle, aged 76 years. My grandfather had four sons. My father was

the eldest. He died at the early age of forty-five in Mozambique, my birth place. The

uncle in Amadpore is the last surviving person in my family. I bowed to his feet and

embraced him. We both shed tears as I greeted him with the traditional’ NAMASTE’,

meaning I bow to God in you. He held my hand for a while and said,

“It has been a long time since you were here last. Come, let’s get

inside the house” I could see the frailty in him. He wore sweater and wrapped himself

in shawl. I felt cold as I walked inside one of the four houses. I then met cousin’s wife

who asked me if I had good journey and that my son and his family members were

well. I passed their regards to her. It was nearly five in the evening and the darkness

was creeping on.

.

The marble floors inside the houses were immaculately clean.

There were adequate lighting and fans inside and outside the houses. The four

terraced houses were under one roof. The houses now belong to the sons of four

brothers. The first one belongs to me as my father was the eldest.

However, since all the cousins are residing abroad, the uncle and his son use the entire

lot of the houses. My cousin is a keen farmer who has been awarded prize of Rupees

100000 with the title ’The mango king’ for growing best quality mangoes in the

whole of Gujarat State of India. In addition to his own 300 acres of land, he makes

use of the lands of those cousins who are residents abroad. Each summer,

he and his father sold mangoes to customers who came from local and faraway places.

From this summer, they are to stop the sale of mangoes from home as the uncle’s

health is deteriorating fast. Moreover, the fruit pickers required by hundreds in

numbers are not available anymore. Instead, the product is sold on wholesale basis to

big commercial companies. The old customers are sad but appreciate the situation the

family is in.


I visited the nearby city of Surat which is fast developing its

industries and general retail businesses. Several malls are in existence and many more

are being built. The influx of labourers from the neighboring states of Utter Pradesh

and Madhya Pradesh was noticeable. Apart from few well to do people, the majority

worked in cotton factories. The factories do not follow safety regulations as required

by law; only a cursory attention is paid to the rules. Therefore, when there is a

fire in a factory, the workers had no systematic exit facilities from inside, and

the ferocity of a fire would entrap the workers who then die in numbers. There is no

parking and emergency clear area for the fire engines to approach the main entrance

of a building. It is reported that there are two thousand business offices in such factory

buildings.

The roads are wide and clean compared to the previous status.

Despite dual carriage ways, I found some motorists driving on the wrong side of

roads! I was informed that people wanted to park cars in spaces on the opposite side

would drive the wrong way! A driver would keep his vehicle, be it car, scooter,

rickshaw, motorbike and bicycle, very near the vehicle in front of him. He would use

the brakes frequently and dangerously. If he were to leave a safety space in the front,

other vehicles would occupy it very soon before him.

It is a common sight to see very young children and teenagers

packed, in the numbers of ten, in a rickshaw. These rickshaws are designated carriers

for many school children. They are appointed and supervised by the school

authorities. There have been cases where several children died from accidents.

Surat is world renowned city for its diamond business. Also, saris

and other fashion goods are manufactured here and well known throughout the

world. Its embroidery work on silk and cotton goods are very famous too. The

growth of modern cinema houses and super markets attract many customers from the

hinterland. There are pizza places, sandwich shops, restaurants and sweetmeat shops.

The growth of cyber cafes and jewellery stores and night time popular outdoor eating

facilities available on many LARIS attract hundreds of people, both from the local

and surrounding villages. I enjoyed eating Parathas prepared on sight on a stainless

steel LARI which the owner kept very clean. When the cook showed me his clean

hands before touching the dough, I queried about the water used to clean his hands. He promptly produced a small stainless steel utensil and poured commercially

available filtered water and washed his hands in it. He said that he was aware of the

visitors from America and England are concerned about unhygienic conditions in

India. So he and other Lari owners around him adopted cleanliness of their cooking

units and hands. It was one of the best memorable events in my life.

I recommend a visit to Surat whenever one goes to India.

Ramanlal Morarjee. © 18/11/2009. Words:-1399.