Playing telephone

"Most of what is done and not done in Indian society - and especially what is said and not said - comes down to the need to save face."

- Craig Storti, Speaking of India

Mr. Storti wrote those words to prepare Western businesspeople for communicating with their Indian counterparts. But it applies equally well to everyday interactions - like, say, oh I don't know, just off the top of my head - asking for directions. My group and I spent the majority of this weekend at the mercy of our new neighbors in Vile Parle and around Mumbai- most of whom confidently gave us directions, despite having no idea whatsoever where it was we were talking about.

Where is the 9 to 9 grocery?
Go straight and make a left.

Hanuman Road?
Keep going straight.

Subhash Road in Vile Parle?
Straight.

Asking for directions here is like playing telephone with a GPS system. You ask the first person, who gives you the wrong directions - then the next who gives you the wrong directions - then the next - aaand the next. In the end, you either give up or the gods smile on you and, somewhere in the web of faulty turns and half muttered instructions, you magically end up where you're supposed to be. I want to be clear that people aren't trying to get us lost or deceive us. In many cases, they're just trying to be helpful. The word "no" is considered to be quite extreme. I'm learning that the absence of "yes" - anywhere from silence to "we'll see" to "it is possible" - just means flat out "nope."

The most fun we've had has been in cabs. I think cab drivers are on to the game, so they'll ask directions - follow them for about 50 yards - then ask the next person. Cabs are relatively cheap here, so it doesn't hurt quite as much as it would at home for drivers to triangulate themselves to your address through directions ping pong. My two favorite taxi encounters so far:

On our way to Fab India on Saturday (admittedly, an expat haven - like an Indian Anthropologie), the driver stopped for directions several times, and finally got out and jogged around a corner - maybe to find a friend? In the meantime, a rather large truck approaching from our left couldn't get by us and the driver just lays into the horn. After a few minutes, some passersby decided to intervene and REACHED INTO THE CAB to shift it into neutral so someone could push us out of the way. I yelled "hey, um, hi?!" from the backseat while Jessi, one of my travel companions, sort of shrugged from the front seat and said something like "hey, man, they've gotta do what they've gotta do." I aspire to achieve such zen-like acceptance. Just as they were shifting us into neutral, the driver came running around the corner and hopped back in. Saved.

We got into a cab to head home tonight after an evening in Bandra. After we got a funny look after stating the name of our neighborhood "Vile Parle East," I tried some landmarks. "Garware (pronounced Gahr-wahr-ay) House?" "Hong Kong Bank?" OK, off we go. This man had nooo idea where we were talking about. After we reached the edge of our neighborhood, he pulled up to a very sad looking building and confidently declared "Garware House!" To which I replied: "Garware House??? Nahin! Nahin. Nahin Garware House" in my baby Hindi. Which literally means "Garware House??? No! No. No Garware House" and in my heart meant "You and I both know that is not the fucking Garware House, buddy. But nice try." I'm still working on my Hindi.

Tomorrow, off to Pune for the day! It's a 2 hour drive and with any luck and some directions, we'll make it there by dinner.