Please ask for less plastic!



Wow I had quite the conversation at Nature's Basket today, the store near the German Institut. I love to shop there but really hate how all the veggies are parcelled in plastic bags. This happens everywhere in Bangalore unless you go to the HOPCOMS where the produce is less presentable - often wormy, dried out, filthy. Everywhere else the produce is swaddled in plastc plastic plastic.
I have written to the company that packages the veggies, asking them if the plastic bags they use could be recycled. They never responded.
Today, while buying the veggies that were sitting in bulk, out of bags in baskets, a clerk came up with one of the store's plastic bags. It seems in order to weigh the veggies for sale, they had to be in plastic bags. I refused, saying that was too much use of plastic.
He asked. "How can I weigh all these then?"
I said, "You have a scale, set them on the scale and give me the price sticker or stick it to the vegetable."
He argued, not wanting the inconvenience. I asked another clerk, "Please call your manager. I want to talk to him."To the arguing clerk, I said: "I will help you weigh them."
He seemed happy with that, we weighed the veggies and put them back in my carry basket, one of each kind sporting a price sticker.

By now the manager showed up. He wanted to know, "What is the problem?"
I said, "You have a great store, but you use too much plastic and foam packaging." I pointed at the plastic wrapped veggies, the plastic bagged veggies, the foam and plastic wrapped veggies and fruit.
He looked at me to them and back at me, confused.

"All of these things - plastic everywhere! And now your clerk is telling me even these bulk vegetables you require in plastic bag?"
He said, "Yes, madam - to weigh them and stick them with price, we need plastic bag."
I said, "No, we don't need a bag. We weighed them in the scale without the bag."
"But what about the sticker?" he asked. I showed him the stickers adhered to the veggies.
He shook his head. "Why do you make such a fuss, madam?"
I said, "Because this is all too much plastic. Do you know where all of this plastic goes?"
He stared at me. Behind him a few clerks had gathered, all wearing expressions ranging from amusement to hard thinking. "People will throw it," the manager finally answered.
"And from the trash where will it go?" I asked.
"To the water, the street...."

"And the cow stomach, your water, the trees etc...yes!" I agreed. "So each of us needs to find ways to reduce all of this plastic. Even your store!"

"But already we do that, madam," he said. "We do not use plastic carry bags - we use paper. You can get our cloth carry bags too. Already we do more than any other store.
"With the paper carry bags, that is true," I said. "But how about taking things a step more? It is "NATURE'S basket, right? Why not do more for nature? Find a way to not use all these plastic bags."
"But madam," he said, "only you are caring about this. All these other people are not bothered!"
I said, "You can change the system, find ways to reduce plastic, and then they will automatically change. If you put the veggies in paper bags or let people bring their own bags, put the sticker on those bags or hand the sticker to them, people will accept. It has to start somewhere!"
He looked very thoughtful. I said, "I understand you do not own this store. But you can speak to whoever is higher up, tell him these ideas."
"I will, I promise," he answered.
"Someone has to make small changes ," I said. I raised my hand into the air. "And I am one of those people."
By now several customers, more clerks and the security guard were watching. It was awkward, but I felt good about what we had discussed. I thanked him and went on my way with the rest of my shopping.
Afterwards, walking home, I decided that next time I go, I will take the plastic bags that some of the produce comes in and use these for packaging the bulk veggies they want to put a sticker on. And I will find the contact email of the store's owner and find a way to change this. It is small places like this that have a bigger chance of making these small changes.

Moment of the Day

While shopping in Nature’s Basket after my German class today, I was pondering over corn chips, trying to find a vegan variety.  I had already been approached by a young lady who was trying to get me to buy a brand of tea, but I had said I was not interested. 

Suddenly, the man who was with her approached me with a pamphlet for the same tea. He had a new selling angle, it seems.

“Madam,” he started, “this tea we have for the slimming. For the big body sizes you can take. Within three months, madam, you will lose the body fats.” He concluded this spiel and looked at me expectantly.

Now, on several other occasions, while out and about, I – and I am sure any other fat person – have been singled out to learn the benefits of some product which will make me lose weight, guaranteed. Once, while shopping in another store, a stranger – another shopper - approached me and asked where I was from. I told her, and she asked me my name.

Wondering where this was going, I told her. Then she said, “I work for one company from your United States, we sell herbal remedies....” Before she could say more, I said, “You’re trying to sell me something to make me lose weight, isn’t it?” “Yes!” she answered, beaming happily at me. “You need it, na?”

It has become apparent that here, people who are too fat (and probably those who others deem too thin) are quickly cornered to receive the latest spiel on the latest remedy to help that person look “normal” and “be healthy”. I have had many a perfect stranger advise me on diet, exercise and medical conditions. In India, such things seem as normal as Americans might say, “How are you?”

Nature’s Basket is often frequented by foreigners, many of whom may seem large by Indian standards. I had a sudden vision of every large person being attacked by tea man. So I decided, let me explain some cultural differences.  I told him, “I would like to share with you....when a person is fat, they usually do not want to be sold things which are supposed to be slim them....it can be rude to them.” He didn’t understand. He repeated the tea’s amazing slimming abilities and accompanied the spiel with gestures to indicate how thin I would surely become if I just tried the tea.

I said, “How about this masala tea here – also same company?”

“Yes madam,” he said. “By this company only. But madam, you need the slimming tea. That one you buy?”

I tried to explain to him again that pointing out that someone who is overweight needs to buy a specific thing to slim them can be rude to some people. He replied, “Yes madam, you need to lose the weight.”

By now the girl who had first tried to sell me tea came over, wanting to know what was wrong. I explained everything to her. She said, “Yes, yes – I got it.” She turned to the man and spoke to him in Kannada. He replied, “Within three months.”

It now became apparent that even in his local tongue, he could not understand how pointing out that someone was fat and needed slimming tea could be rude. The girl looked at me and shrugged.

The man happily thrust a sample packet of the slimming tea at me and with a smile said, “You will see madam, within three months, you will be not so fat.”

I succumbed, decided culture lessons could wait another day, took the tea and went to the checkout counter!

Emergencies and Life

I had an interesting experience the other night that highlighted to me once again the many differences between here and the US. In the way emergencies are handled, the way life is perceived or perhaps the value of life.

I was in the cab late at night – around 1 AM – and the cab turned from the main road to the road that runs along at the top of my lane. I saw a man on his stomach slowly crawling on his hands and knees. Where he was laying was right at the corner of the main road and the other road, where the lighting is poor. He was wearing dark clothing – I only saw him because I see these things – I am always looking around and seeing things.

The cab dropped me at my house and I waited for it to leave. All I could see in my mind’s eye was a big truck or bus coming around that corner and hitting the man who had been crawling there at the corner. I couldn’t get that vision from my mind and so I went back to the corner, walking down the dark street until I was close to where I had seen him laying.

I could hear his harsh cries before I saw him. Now he was lying on his back, waving his arms in the air and calling out – maybe in a local language or maybe just shouting...I couldn’t tell. I saw a security guard walking around at the closed book store across the street. But he was watching me and not the man. I looked up and down the street, wondering how I could find someone to help me. I at least wanted to move the man from that spot on the street.

I could not tell many details about the man. I did not want to get so close that he could pull at me or harm me in some way. But I could see he was older, wearing filthy clothes and no shoes. He didn’t seem to notice me as I walked by him, searching the street for some help.

Then I saw that the traffic police had set up a barricade down the street, just where the road crests a slight hill. It was a speed trap of sorts and now and then they place the barricades to catch speeders and make some extra money for themselves when the speeders bribe them. I saw three police men sitting on one of the tree planters at the side of the road on the foot path.

I walked towards them. Immediately one of the called out to me, “What do you want?” I said, “There is a man up there on the street.”

The police wobbled his head in the characteristic way they do here – signalling he understood. And he grunted.

I said, “Where he lies, he will be struck by traffic and be killed.”

Again the police wobbled and grunted.

We looked at each other for a few seconds. Again he repeated, “What do you want?”

I said, trying to hide my incredulousness, “I want you to help that man.”

He said, “I have called ambulance.”

I thanked him and walked away. I knew he had not called an ambulance. Again visions of flattened old man danced. I walked by him again and stood on the other street. I SMSed to a colleague, asking for the number for ambulance services.

She sent one tentatively. I called it. It was for fire. When I asked for the ambulance, the person who answered said, “No, only fire.” And hung up!

The next number my colleague sent was the correct one and a man answered saying “ambulance services?”

I described my issue – the man, the dark, the possibility of being killed by traffic. That man asked over a dozen questions. Who was he? I didn’t know. Was he hurt? I didn’t know. Was he drunk? I didn’t know – could be. Was he bleeding? I didn’t know – I had not gotten so close. Was he my relative? Was he sick? On and on. I said, “By the time you find these answers, he will be dead if he is hurt!” He said, “Ok ok!” He took my number and said the ambulance in my area would contact me in a few minutes. I waited.

I saw traffic go by the man, some close enough to hit him. The book store security guard wandered around. A couple walked down the street, passed right by the man and walked into the neighbourhood opposite the street I was on. My colleague was smsing me to go home rather than wait. I even saw an ambulance driver by – literally drive by the man. At first when I saw it I thought maybe that police really had called an ambulance. But it drove by and never came back.

Finally the ambulance services called me again. Now there were two men on the line – the first one and the ambulance driver. They both called me “sir” and asked the same questions again. Then they said, “You will come to the hospital with the man?”

I said, “No – I do not know this man.” Until that point I didn’t feel any need to explain that I was not a man. Now I began to try convincing them. They finally seemed convinced. The first man began to tell me to “cut the phone” meaning “hang up.” I said, “Are you sending an ambulance?” “Cut the phone!” was all I heard.

I walked home in frustrated tears. I didn’t think they would send anyone. The police were useless, the security guard pointless to ask help from. I was alone at 1 AM. I had done all I could do without risking my own personal safety and it was clear that if I had tried to help the man myself and he had hurt me, no one would help me either.

I was home for about 10 minutes when the ambulance driver called again. He wanted the directions again. I gave them. In another 10 minutes he called to say he was at the bookstore and could see the man across the street.

A 5 minute conversation ensued wherein I convinced him to cross the street and check the man for injuries. He did so and informed that he was drunk. I said, “That may be so but he should be moved from the street.”

“Yes he is on the street,” he said.

“I know that,” I said....”Please get him off the street. Put him on the footpath!”

After much discussion, I finally convinced the driver to move the man to the footpath. I could hear the driver and someone else lifting the man who was shouting at them in Kannada. The driver told me the man had been moved. He hung up and I was left pondering things.

First, I had been shocked the ambulance had come at all. Most people do not help accident victims or people found injured, being attacked, beaten etc. There is a thought (and an unfortunately accurate one) that if they stoop to help they will also get hurt or be blamed for the accident that caused injury. Until recently, India even had a law that prohibited the transfer and treatment of accident victims before police had filled an accident form. People literally died on the street waiting for the police to come to fill in a form so that the victims could be sent to the hospital for treatment. Then India withdrew or amended the law. Accident victims can be taken to a hospital for treatment even if a police report is filled afterwards rather than on the spot. But such changes to a law take a long, long time to trickle into everyone’s minds. And it still doesn’t protect people from being hurt when they try to help someone or from being blamed for accidents they didn’t cause. So this could be why the driver wanted me to come with them – he could have wanted me to give them money for the drive, the treatment – who knows what.

Second, I was saddened (though not surprised) by the indifference of the policemen. They had to have seen that man laying there and had probably not even checked his condition. Most likely they had decided that the man was a drunkard, homeless or a beggar. And they had decided not to help him – either because he was a drunk and homeless or just because they didn’t want to help anyone. Police should protect and serve. But here, they serve themselves and protect their pocket books.

Third, there was just the general different way in which life is treated here. I have seen this time and again – in the way people drive, the way they allow their children to play in dangerous areas, the way workers wear clothing while doing hard labor that would never protect their bodies if there was an accident. People are often injured in accidents that could have been prevented if people were more careful of their own safety, others’ safety and if they were properly equipped to protect themselves. People rarely wear seat belts. Motorcycle drivers wear helmets but the riders almost never do and many times you see a man driving a motorcycle with a woman on the back and 2-3 kids sandwiched here and there – and only the driver wears a helmet at all. As a westerner, my first thought is that life is not respected. But that is a gut response – a reaction. I know that Indians respect life even if they do not do it in the way I would. But many times, especially when faced with situations where a man is laying close to death on a street corner, I cannot help but think that life should be treated better than that!

The muted colors of midnight

The muted colors of midnight


rose and maroon

yellow and cream

the dusty green

of trees

with the smell of jasmine

and dried leaves

and over all

a single star

in a violet sky

and the distant cry

of a departing train

Midnight on the lane

Update: New Job, New Cat, New Worries

After a long time, I am updating this blog. I am really not sure who reads it still and that is partially my fault because I rarely update it. But life is pretty routine and nothing exciting takes place so I figure why bore people with accounts of day-to-day life?

I am about to close my 3rd year in India and at this job. I was promoted in March – can’t remember if I wrote about that. I was promoted to the role of quality lead, a new role on the team. It is not new to the industry – most companies in the same field have quality leads and checks. But because this was a new role for the team, there were a lot of things which I needed to build from scratch including procedures, processes, tools and training the team. The role is basically streamlined now with only a few hiccups – time to see how I might take it up a few notches!

I am not sure when I will come back to the US for my annual visit. I even played with the idea of not coming. For some reason this year, it feels wrong to go – a little wrong. It could be that I felt that way because the cats have been falling sick lately and two weeks in the US away from them seemed a bad idea. But now they are fine (knock on wood) so that is not it. And I do feel a little better about going back. Sometimes, it feels like the more years that pass, the stranger I feel in US. My family’s lives also carry on and they cannot drop everything because I have come home. So it can be lonely – lonelier than when by myself in India because in India I have my cats, work and my own life going on. But going I will and must – I need to do the clothes run (can’t find clothes here that fit and the tailors are usually not very good at making western wear). I also want to narrow down my things in US – I keep thinking of all the boxes and things there which could be reduced to very little because I am obviously not using them!

I also want to make a will – mostly for my cats. I want people to know what needs to be done for them if I should die or if I suddenly cannot take care of them. In a way I feel nervous – when we tried to make a will for mom and dad, both died before they could sign the final documents. Seems like a family curse?

I am on the last day of five days off – a vacation that came from having two festivals (Ramadan and Ganesha Chaturthi), taking off on another day between those and the weekend and then the weekend itself. I have been productive. I got Bobby neutered.

Oh – I should tell you about Bobby. He is the third cat to join my household. He came from Mumbai. There is a mother/daughter team there that rescues street cats, cleans them up and re-homes them. Bobby came to them as a small kitten with a maggot infested wound and some mouth injuries. They healed him and started looking for a home for him but because his jaw is crooked, they worried that they wouldn’t find him a home. So I decided to adopt him. They flew him via Jet Airways cargo and I went to the airport to get him. He is a little ginger and white boy, very naughty and playful. At first Squeeby and Lucy were not happy but after some time, Lucy started to play with him. Sometimes Squeeby does too though more often than not, Squeeby tries to lick Bobby when Bobby would rather bite.

So I got Bobby neutered during my vacation and had to have one of his teeth removed. Lucy also got a check up because on the very first day of my vacation, she started coughing – randomly and badly. A dry, raspy, harsh cough that doesn’t do anything and seems very distressing to her and me. But the vet couldn’t find anything wrong with her and said I should deworm her again in case the new cat brought worms into the house. I have done that and for nearly 2 days she didn’t cough. Just now she coughed  She is hiding under the bed actually. I am trying not to worry – it could still be worms. She will be re-dosed in two weeks. But a part of me is really worried it’s the start of a bigger more terrible problem. I am trying not to worry – I will say that again – but it can be so hard when I am attached to them like I am. If something happened to these cats, I would be very sad. And angry if the vets here couldn’t help her – they are mostly incompetent with cats!

So that is all the news I guess:

1) I was promoted

2) I got a new cat

3) Lucy is coughing and I don’t know why

4) I will complete year three soon

5) I will be coming to the US soon

Don't just stand there - do something...

Today I saw two grown men in a cart loaded with metal bars whipping their small horse into a frenzy for no reason other than to make it go faster on the open road they were on. Both were laughing hysterically. They whipped past the home for children whose parents either can’t afford them, don't want them or orphaned them.


Not one of the people helping the children even noticed these idiot men beating their horse for no reason. They didn't see that the horse was clipping one of its poorly shod feet on the ground with every stride, on the verge of breaking that leg if it missed a stride or tripped on a hole or crack of which Indian streets are primarily made of. No one even gave the tableau a look. They were too busy caring for children whose parents were incompetent and who will doubtlessly grow up as cruel as those men and as clueless as their caretakers because their caretakers are too blind to see inhumanity enough to teach these children.

This is why I stopped supporting cause for humans a long time ago. Humans are blind even with 20/20 vision. They only see the suffering of their own kind if they even see that. And they seem to completely miss the link between cruelty to animals and cruelty to people. That if people are capable of beating a horse for no particular reason, they are also capable of beating a child, a woman, an elderly person.

Kindness is kindness, respect is respect. These attributes don’t know species or at least they shouldn’t be reserved just for humans.

And here is a note to all you parents out there and you people who stand neutrally by not even trying to prevent the injustices you see in this world even when given clear chances: Just because you don’t commit the injustices doesn’t make your sheet clean. Teach your children that what others are doing is wrong. Teach them what is right. Stop others from committing injustices whenever you can because these people are either teaching your children or someone else's children that injustice is okay even if you say it’s not.

Support a good animal welfare organization

Hi faithful readers :-)

If you want to help animals in need and you have a Facebook account, please click the link below and click "LIKE" on that page.  It's a safe page - no viruses, no one hassling you with posts or asking for your details.  Just a non-profit org looking to earn money for animals. Click the link and click LIKE.

Cat Bless You

And now I'll tell you why:

As I mentioned in one of my recent posts, I have become more aware of some of the bad things people are doing to animals out there in our big world.  I found this one organization called the Egyptian Society for Mercy to Animals (ESMA) and I decided to really do my best to help this org.

ESMA is based in Egypt and have been a registered non-profit group since 2007 when a group of Egyptians and expatriates joined forces to try and stop a government sanctioned mass shooting of stray dogs.  Since then, this small but growing group has built an animal shelter and houses over 600 dogs and cats who need good homes.  They have rescued animals the government had poisoned or shot or cut.  They rescue animals hit by vehicles.  They are even now trying to feed the working animals whose livelihood was bad to before the Egyptian riots and who are now literally walking sticks, starved and wounded.  ESMA also works to maintain better pet shops and to improve the Giza Zoo, Egypt's biggest zoo. 

In addition to helping the animals. ESMA has undertaken educating the Egyptian people on the humane treatment of animals.  They help the horse and donkey owners learn ways to clean their animals.  They have veterinaries who care for the animals and provide street level care.  I really want to see this group succeed. 

See, if you're in America or Canada or the UK, you might feel that the treatment of domesticated animals is "ok" - a few shocking cases but by and large, if anything bad is happening on a large scale, we don't know it or we don't care to investigate to know it.   But in many many other parts of the world, domesticated animals are treated worse than the lowest slave or POW in any land.  They are shot, poisoned or clubbed to death to control their population.  Left still alive, they are picked up hours later, having spent agonizing moments dying while people pass them by.  In some countries, cats and skinned alive and then eaten.Working animals are beaten and made to work until literally they die in their gear. 

Call it lack of compassion, lack of education, lack of humanity, lack of funding - animals are being treated in ways that would boggle the mind of the average American or Brit.  But ESMA is in the middle of this trying to improve it, trying to make people see a better way to treat animals and I want to support that. Getting money to them is very hard - if you have a PayPal account then it is easy - but I cannot get my PayPal account to work.  Which leads us to why I have asked you to click the "Cat Bless You" page.

Cat Bless You is an organization that also wants to help animal welfare organizations by showcasing their efforts and raising awareness.  Cat Bless You has agreed to give ESMA 25000 USD in funds if ESMA can increase Cat Bless You's Facebook fan base to 25000 fans. 

So your click could bring 25000 USD to help cats, dogs, horses, donkeys, camels and the Giza Zoo. 

Not bad for just one click, yes?