Pune, Two Football Matches, and Heat: Mar 22 to Mar 30

The day after the PAF was spent sleeping in and recovering from the many late nights. Unfortunately, it would take me many days to re-align my internal calendar with the rising and setting of the sun, as I had been awake most of the dark hours and asleep for much of the day during the days before the PAF. Nevertheless, my projects march on.

On Friday and Saturday, I visited Pune. My journey began early Friday morning via the Intercity Superfast Express. My ticket in the non-AC section cost 110 Rupees for the 3-hour journey. I ate one wada pav (fried potato “burger” served with chutney on a roll) in Mumbai and bought another two out the window of the train at a station halfway to Pune. I listened to This American Life as I watched the landscape—desert, litter, hills, people—drift by out the window. The train was pleasant until around 9:00am, with one hour of my trip left, the hot Indian sun began streaming in through the window.

It was a relief to reach Pune, where Professor Sardeshpande picked me up at the train station; the temperature was the same outside the train as it was inside, but it feels better to be hot in the open air than to be hot while sitting in a train compartment. At least outside the train there is neera, a drink collected from the bark of a coconut tree in a similar fashion that maple syrup is collected in New England. Neera is sold at government stands only because it quickly becomes alcoholic if it is allowed to ferment for more than around 12 hours. It is harvested in the morning, distributed to government juice stands, and sold for 10 Rupees per glass throughout the day. Fermented neera is a common form of moonshine in some Indian communities, and the government, understandably, works fervently to prevent this. The neera tasted somewhat similar to coconut water, but had the unmistakable taste of almost-fermentation.

After a meeting in the morning, we went to Professor Sardeshpande’s home, where his wife Madhavi cooked a wonderful lunch of spicy eggplant sabzi, dal, and cucumber salad. I also tried her carrot pickles, which were great. My favorite pickles I have had in India are still the turmeric pickles from Waigao village, but these carrot pickles were a close second. Her homemade chapatti, just like chapatti I have tried at other Indian homes, is also delicious. After eating this, the chapatti in the mess looks, feels, and tastes much blander. The difference is stunning. I want to learn to make chapatti like this when I return to the US; I have not yet had a chance to watch the whole chapatti-making process in anyone’s home, but I hope to have this chance when I stay in a village in May.

In the afternoon, we (Professor Sardeshpande, his high-school-age son Varad, and I) visited a nearby village named Sangran, where I may stay for 1-2 weeks in May along with other CTARA students. The village is located near a lake and so has plenty of water to continue agriculture during the dry season. As an extra bonus for being located near a lake, it is not exceptionally hot. Sangran recently won an award—including a large monetary prize—for being the cleanest village in the district, thanks in part due to their weekly Sunday cleaning efforts. Every Sunday, women and children collect recyclable litter in the village; the village buys the material for 10 Rupees per kilogram and sells it to a local recycling factory for 5 Rupees per kilogram. The program’s success is partially due to its financial incentive, and cleaning up the village for a cost of 5 Rupees per kilogram of recycling is a great investment, especially when it results in a sizeable award from the government. I am excited to learn more about these cleaning efforts when I stay in the village.

The next day, after visiting a couple manufacturing sites, we stopped at a hotel for a light lunch where we ate the best veg biryani I have had yet in India. My taste buds could have been influenced by my hunger at that point in time, but it was delicious—more spicy and flavorful than a normal biryani.

To return the three hours to Mumabi, I was planning to travel by AC bus. When we had waited at the bus stop for a while without a bus coming, I instead ended up riding in an informal “taxi” for 200 Rupees. This driver had some other agenda causing him to make the journey from Pune to Mumbai, a well-traveled route, and decided to pick up a few extra people on the way to cover his gas money. His driving was fast but fairly safe, and it was surely much quicker than a bus. Just outside of Mumbai, we got off the highway and drove through a crowded neighborhood. The van stopped outside a shop on a street corner, the driver handed a big bag of something out the window to someone, and we got back on the highway. This delivery must have been the reason for the driver’s journey to Mumbai; I have no idea what was in the bag.

The van driver dropped most of us off at a bus station in Navi Mumbai, about 45 minutes from campus by local train. As soon as my fellow passengers and I stepped out of the van, without so much as a “goodbye,” “thank you,” or even a head nod, the driver was off. Small talk and idle chit-chat are not a part of Indian culture—I had expected an acknowledgement of my presence by the van driver, but why should this be a necessary part of doing business? What do the driver and I have in common to talk about, other than that we happened to be traveling from Pune to Mumbai on the same Saturday evening? Why does small talk play such a large role in American society? As one guest from the UK at the Thanksgiving dinner I attended last year said regarding his recent obsession with watching the NFL after moving to the states, “If you can’t talk football, you can’t succeed here in business.” Is this the best way for our country to run, fueled by meaningless conversations about football? I love football, but it may help American society be more productive if its viewing and related conversation stays as a leisure activity rather than a prerequisite to doing business.

On the football front, I am playing in the Institute Football League (IFL), where players from all hostels are picked by managers in a bidding format. My team, Bayern Munich, had our second and third games this week on back-to-back evenings. Unfortunately, both were losses: 1-0 and 3-1. In the first match, the only goal came off of a perfectly placed free kick from outside the box that barely found its way into the net between our keeper’s outstretched hand and the crossbar. An unfortunate series of games, but fun to be on the field. It had been hot and humid (approximately 36-42°C with around 80% humidity) for a few days in Mumbai, and the match days were no different. I was dripping sweat from my face while sitting on the bench putting on my cleats. I had not even started warming up or running at this point. After playing, the second match, my team’s manager asked how I liked playing in the heat, saying I “probably lost 3-4 kgs during the match today.” I responded, “probably 3 kg yesterday and 4 kg today.” I spent the rest of the evening at Campus Hub drinking juice from to rehydrate.

Two of the questions I get asked the most frequently when I first meet Indian students are “Donald Trump?” and “Are the college parties really like in the movies?” To the first, I try and change the subject. To the second, I assure my fellow students that parties are not like in the movies at Northeastern, maybe only in some schools with a very strong fraternity culture. I then ask what movies they are referring to, and the standard response is not “Animal House,” but “American Pie.” I have never seen any of the American Pie movies, so in an attempt to educate myself on what crazy college parties are really like in the US, I watched one in the afternoon. I can confirm that Northeastern does not throw parties reminiscent of American Pie, but I cannot fully rule out the possibility of American Pie-esque parties taking place at other schools.

In addition to the heat I am feeling in Mumbai, the movie “Heat” is incredible. It is a 1990’s “LA crime saga,” as the DVD box describes, that pits Al Pacino against Robert de Niro. I recommend using subtitles and I recommend you watch the movie at your earliest convenience. It is fantastic and you will not be disappointed.

On March 31^st I embark on a week-long field visit to Pune, Aurangabad, and Dhule. Stay tuned to hear about those adventures.