Monthly Archives: January 2010

Italian language course

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I’ve recently joined an Italian language course and am excited about the opportunity. I’ve always wanted to learn a foreign language, but in Varanasi, there haven’t been many options. BHU and Sampoornanand Sanskrit University were the only institutions offering foreign language courses, and BHU only accepts its own students, while attending Sampoornanand felt like a waste of time. Although I wasn’t particularly interested in Italian initially, I enrolled in this course because I realized that waiting for a more suitable opportunity might mean years of delay in learning a language.

My goal has always been to learn German, and Sampoornanand University does offer a six-month diploma in various foreign languages, including German. I had signed up for German classes about four years ago, but the program was poorly managed, and I was disheartened to learn that students were given certificates regardless of their performance. Eventually, I decided to stop attending. The Italian course I’m now enrolled in is conducted by Centro Risorse India, an Italian institution that not only teaches Italian to Indians but also supports Italian students in India.

I also work as a translator at Centro Risorse India’s Varanasi branch. The course consists of 50 hours of instruction, with three-hour classes on weekends. The classes are held at a school near Godowlia. The course features two teachers: an Indian woman from Delhi who also works at Centro Risorse India’s Pune center, and an Italian scholar who is fluent in Hindi. There are six students in total, including me. One of my classmates is a tour guide who works with Japanese tourists, while another is a Hindi teacher.

Our teachers are excellent. They use interactive methods rather than traditional book-based instruction, incorporating games, role-plays, and frequent speaking practice. Although the pronunciation and grammar are challenging and unfamiliar to me, I’m committed to doing my best. I’m unsure how long it will take to become proficient in speaking and writing Italian, but I’m determined to make progress and see where this journey takes me.

Driving License in India

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I got my driving license about eight years ago, but a conversation with a friend today about applying for a license reminded me of my experience at the RTO (Road Transport Office). I decided to share what happened. I was 20 years old when I applied for my driving license, which was about seven years ago. The RTO office was located 25 kilometers outside the city, and given the chaotic state of city transport, I asked my friend to take his motorbike so we could get there. Upon arriving, the RTO office was as chaotic as any other Indian government office.

The office was overcrowded, filled with people and even animals like dogs and cows wandering around. There was paan spit everywhere, making the floor look red. Touts were roaming about, looking for confused faces like mine. One of them approached me and offered to help me get a driving license, but he wanted money for his services. Although my friends had advised me to avoid the RTO office and instead buy a fake license from the market, I wanted to do things legally. I had also consulted an advocate who told me that money was key at the RTO office—spend it, and you get what you want; otherwise, you get nothing. However, I decided to navigate the process at the RTO office myself.

I declined the tout’s offer, but he persistently asked if I needed his help. I repeatedly said no. There was no clear information center, so I asked someone in the crowd about the procedure. They directed me to get a form first. We queued at the form counter, where I was surprised to see a blind person handling the forms. Despite the unconventional situation, the blind man managed the forms efficiently. I requested a form for a learning license, which costs Rs. 10, though the printed price was Rs. 2. When I returned to query the discrepancy, the blind man explained he had given me the wrong form and refunded my money, stating the correct forms were sold out.

The tout reappeared, insisting that the form was indeed Rs. 10, and I had no choice but to pay. Eventually, my friend stood in line to get the form for me. After filling it out, we proceeded to another counter to pay the fee. Although the counter was supposed to close at 2 PM, it was already closed at 1:15 PM. A lady behind the counter, munching on something, insisted her clock showed 2:15 PM. I showed her a Rs. 20 note, and she reopened the counter, allowing me to deposit the fee. Next was the written exam, which concerned me as Varanasi lacks proper traffic rule enforcement.

I saw others offering bribes to the examiner, but I decided to take the exam first and offer money if needed. The exam was manageable, and I was confident I passed. When I asked the examiner if I had passed, he confirmed I did after I indicated I hadn’t paid a bribe yet. He asked me to return in three days to check the results. When I went back after three days, I was informed that I had passed. The fee for the learning license was Rs. 100, but I bargained and paid Rs. 50. After two or three months, I returned to get my permanent license. They put me through an interview with basic questions about my vehicle registration and other details.

Although a practical driving test was supposed to be part of the process, it was not conducted. After the interview, I was told to return a week later to collect my license. When I did, I encountered another officer who asked if I was a Brahmin. After confirming, he mentioned he was also a Brahmin and lived near my home. He requested a bribe of Rs. 150, claiming he usually charged Rs. 200 but was offering me a discount due to our shared caste. I didn’t want to pay that much, so I bargained and eventually paid Rs. 75, which he accepted reluctantly, warning me not to disclose the lower amount.

While I am happy to have my license, I still think about the blind man, the counter lady, and the officer who gave me a discount because of our shared caste. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just given money to my advocate and avoided the RTO hassle. However, navigating the RTO taught me a lot about dealing with government officers in India. Despite my resolve not to bribe, I often find myself compelled to do so to get things done. I hope that technology will eventually change this system, though it may not happen in my lifetime.

Hindu at Taj Mahal’s Namaz

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I’ve always had a keen interest in various religions, particularly Islam, and recently, I had the opportunity to learn more about it. During my tour guide training in Gwalior, I shared an apartment with a Muslim man named Sana, and we’ve since become good friends. We lived together for six weeks in Gwalior, traveled together for a week in Jaipur and Agra, and I even stayed at his apartment in Delhi. I had long been curious about Namaz (the Islamic prayer) and was excited to learn more. On Eid, while staying with Sana, his friend Khesal, and Prem in Agra, we were just a five-minute walk from the Taj Mahal.

Sana is an unconventional Muslim. He once told me he was an atheist, while Khesal was a devout Muslim who would leave our training sessions to perform Namaz. Sana was quite open-minded, even about things like drinking, which is prohibited in Islam. On Eid, Sana and Khesal wanted to perform Namaz at the Taj Mahal, which offers free entry on this day. I asked if I could join them. Sana was supportive, but Khesal seemed concerned about bringing a non-Muslim to the mosque. I had discussed Namaz with Khesal the night before Eid and had some idea of what to expect, but I was both excited and a bit apprehensive.

I didn’t want to be stopped and told to leave because of my Hindu identity. Sana reassured me that everything would be fine if I followed his advice. He instructed me to hide the red thread on my wrist and to ensure my Janeu (sacred thread) wasn’t visible. Despite my excitement, I was nervous. I asked my friend Prem to join us, but he declined, citing his limited knowledge of Hinduism and his general discomfort. So, I went to the Taj Mahal for Namaz with Sana alone. I bought a handkerchief to cover my head and tried to blend in. With an estimated twenty to thirty thousand people present, I felt certain I was the only Hindu there, and as a Brahmin, I felt even more conspicuous.

When Namaz began, I was anxious about making a mistake. Sana had taught me the basics, and I was closely observing those around me. I did make a mistake, but Sana noticed and corrected me. I mistakenly recited the Gayatri Mantra instead of the Quranic verses, but I managed to complete the Namaz without drawing attention to my Brahmin background. Completing Namaz was a fulfilling experience. Sana had mentioned that regular Namaz practitioners seldom experience joint pain due to the frequent standing and bending. After performing Namaz, I ventured into the Muslim neighborhood behind the Taj Mahal and saw the festivities of the festival.

It was a wonderful experience, and I would love to learn Namaz properly in the future, especially with someone like Sana to guide and ensure my comfort.

Tourism in Amritsar

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After submitting my tour guide license documents at the India Tourism office in New Delhi, I headed to Amritsar. I had heard a lot about the flag ceremony at the Wagah India-Pakistan border, which was the main reason for my visit. I was scheduled to arrive in Amritsar on the evening of the 9th, but due to a 17-hour train delay, I reached on the afternoon of the 10th. I quickly found a hotel near the railway station, dropped off my things, and went straight to Wagah, as the parade was set to start at 4:30 PM. Although I had enough time to get there before the parade, I wanted to arrive early to get a sense of the atmosphere.

The bus dropped me about two kilometers from the border, and I had to take a rickshaw from there. I was keen on experiencing Amritsar and interacting with locals, so I chose to take the bus to engage with more people. The bus was packed, but I managed to get a seat. I arrived at the Wagah border at 3 PM, but at that time, the border was only open to traders, not the general public. Wagah border, like many tourist spots in India, had its share of touts and vendors. There weren’t many shops, but those that were there had touts. Several individuals approached me, trying to direct me to their “brother’s” restaurant or shop.

Being from Varanasi, where the tourism industry is heavily influenced by touts, I was well aware of these tactics. Since I wasn’t hungry, my rickshaw driver didn’t receive any commission. I noticed that Wagah border was one of the few places in India where time was strictly observed. The border closed for traders at 3:30 PM sharp. After the closure, tourists were allowed to queue up. There were about 3,000 people lined up to watch the parade. Some rickshaw drivers offered to get us closer to the front, which I found surprising but true. There were two gates, about 500 meters apart, with a security check in between. People chanted slogans like “Vande Mataram” and “Bharat Mata Ki Jai” with great enthusiasm.

BSF office at Wagah

It turned out that getting to the security check first was crucial for a good view of the parade. The first gate opened at 4 PM, and everyone rushed to the second gate for the security check. I was impressed by the orderly management but was taken aback when I saw two policemen on horses accompanied by a dog. I wondered about the effectiveness of such security measures, given the potential risks. Seeing wild animals around, even in high-security areas, is not uncommon in India, but it was unexpected at such a critical location. The parade began at 4:30 PM and was an unforgettable experience.

On the Indian side, there were around 3,000 to 4,000 spectators, while the Pakistani side had only about 300 to 400 attendees. This discrepancy was likely due to the vast difference in population sizes between the two countries. During the parade, people were cheering loudly for their respective sides. I spoke with locals about the purpose of the parade, and they mentioned that it aimed to bring Indians and Pakistanis closer together. However, the aggressive posturing of the soldiers seemed to contradict this intention. Despite this, I thoroughly enjoyed the parade, which lasted for 45 minutes, culminating in the lowering of the flags on both sides.

BSF flag

After the parade, I was delighted to see women serving at the border. In a predominantly male society like India, where many women are confined to traditional roles, it was inspiring to see women actively involved in border security. They appeared fit, confident, and diligent in their duties, which was a refreshing sight. Later, I visited the Golden Temple, which was magnificent and enormous. I had heard about the Sikh tradition of volunteers managing visitors’ shoes and was impressed by the organization. The volunteers at the shoe stands were efficient and dedicated. Visitors were also provided with cloth pieces to cover their heads before entering the temple. The cold weather, with temperatures dropping to around 0.8°C, made walking on the marble floors quite chilly.

The Golden temple

The Golden Temple was bustling, but the management ensured that the crowds were well-handled. I spent a few hours there, observing the activities and enjoying the Langar meal. The temple’s dedication to service and the sense of community were remarkable. After visiting the Golden Temple, I went to Jallianwala Bagh, a memorial dedicated to the massacre of 2,000 Indians during British rule. The site includes an art gallery, the well where people fell while trying to escape, and walls still bearing bullet marks. It was a somber and emotional experience, with many visitors reflecting on the brutality of the massacre.

The Golden temple

My final stop was the Maharaja Ranjit Singh Museum. Despite being a newly built facility, it lacked a power backup system, which was frustrating. After waiting for an hour due to a power outage, I explored the museum and learned about Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s life. This trip to Amritsar was highly successful and informative, allowing me to learn about Sikh religion and witness the Wagah border ceremony. Despite the cold weather, which I underestimated, the experience was enriching. Unfortunately, my train was canceled due to fog, and I had to buy a new ticket to Delhi and then to Varanasi, with a small bribe involved. Two days felt insufficient for exploring Amritsar, and I hope to return in the future.

Bullet marks

Finally received tour guide license

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I finally received my tour guide license on the 30th, marking the end of a three-year wait. I had initially applied for it in 2006. I began preparing for the entrance exam shortly after my application, but had to halt my preparations when the Tour Guide Association of India sued the Indian government over the licensing process. The association was resistant to new entrants, fearing that their established positions were at risk. Many of the existing guides had obtained their licenses when the process was simpler, and now that the requirements were stricter, the association was obstructing the changes to protect their interests.

My brother Chandan, who works as an escort, shared a humorous anecdote with me. On his last visit to Benares, he hired a government-approved tour guide for a morning boat ride. The guide spoke at length about Benares, Hinduism, and the Ganges River, emphasizing that the Ganges is revered as a mother by Hindus. However, shortly after his talk, the guide began chewing betel and spat it out into the Ganges in front of his clients. This understandably upset the clients, who questioned whether Hindus spit on their mother. The guide had no response, which reflects the kind of professionalism that should be avoided. I hope that the training I received will prevent such unprofessional behavior.

The certificate

The tour guide training program faced numerous delays due to ongoing legal battles between the Tour Guide Association of India and the government. The association initially sued as soon as the application forms were released, causing several months of delays. After the government managed to resolve the first legal issue, they conducted the entrance exam, only for the association to sue again, leading to further delays as the case was heard in the Delhi High Court. Ultimately, the government won, and the High Court directed them to resume the training program, which finally started in August 2009 after a three-year delay.

Sana and I at convocation hall

The training was conducted at IITTM in Gwalior and lasted for 16 weeks—6 weeks of classroom instruction and 10 weeks of fieldwork. The curriculum included over 75 lectures, and I wrote a research paper focusing on the cultural diversity of Benares. The program concluded with a written exam and an interview, both of which I successfully passed. I received my certificate and now need to visit the India Tourism office in Delhi with a police verification certificate to obtain a provisional license, which will be valid for two months. After this period, I should receive my permanent license (red card). I hope there will be no further issues in Delhi.

Happy moment