Bricks

04. January 2012 · Write a comment · Categories: India 2011

A short cycle rickshaw ride then a shorter walk, and I see a tower belching smoke. Immediatley my mind turns to Orthanc and Isengard, but rather than orcs being groined from the ground, here they make bricks.

Brick works, Calcutta

Men and women crouch, picking up lumps of clay and then throwing them into wooden moulds, pressing the clay down, and swiftly level the tops with a wire before turning the blocks out ready to dry. Then back for the next and the next. They work apace, for the pittance they’ll receive depends upon how many bricks they’ve made that day.

Bricks drying

I notice a stick-thin girl – perhaps, I think, a couple of years old. Then I notice her tinier sister next to her, also pathetically emaciated. And finally I notice a small baby clinging to the back of the first girl, looking like a tiny spider monkey shawn of its fur. It’s a pathetic tableau. None of the girls looks healthy. No-one her elooks healthy, child or adult. Faces are drawn and aunt, eyes dead and soulless. Some children are pot-bellied, whether from worms or kwashiorkor, I know not, and it doesn’t make any difference, for in this place there’s money enough neither to fill the belly, nor to heal the sick.

Many of these people aren’t from these parts. Their clothing belies their origins, as their faces proclaim their homelands. They’ve been drawn here in their millions in the hope of a better life. If this is the better life, then what hellish existence have they left behind?

Child workers at brick works, Calcutta

[I2011 3]

Arriving

04. January 2012 · Write a comment · Categories: India 2011

The driver forces his way through the traffic, the horn used liberally to warn, cajole or threaten those in the way. Never use a short “peep” when a long, loud blast can be employed. Motorcycles and cyclists squeeze through gaps betwixt car and smoke-belching truck. Buses bully their way through; and implacably picking their path are pedestrians, some in radiant saris, red and gold, turquoise and blue. Cows stand in the middle of the road, as immovable as they are revered. At the side of this well-rehearsed chaos lie dogs, mangy curs, sleepily taking it all in.

Here the senses are assailed as perhaps nowhere else on earth: the noise, the cacaphonic din of roaring engines and blaring horns; thje smells, some sickly sweet perfume, some spicy and aromatic, and others a stench speaking of death and decay; the sight of so many people and vehicles croweded into so small a space (and yet the city is vast) creatse an almost physical sense of oppression, of being crushed from all sides.

I’m back in India.

[I2011 2]

Introit

04. January 2012 · Write a comment · Categories: India 2011

I’ve been to India before. It’s never been an easy experience. The noise, the masses, the chaos, the smells, the filth, the poverty, the discomfort, the bureaucracy, they all define this place. After my first visit it was 15 years before I ventured there again, and now, after a further 10 years, I’m going back. This time I’ll be visiting friends, more specifically, going for a friend’s nephew’s 5th birthday celebration. Let’s call him (the nephew) TLP – The Little Prince. How could I resist?

The plan is to see a few things around Calcutta, then to make a side trip to Puri which is a seaside resort and fairly close to the Sun Temple at Konark.

I’ll be staying with TLP’s family and joined by my friend K and two of his French friends, D and S.

It’s with a little trepidation that I’ll board my flight from Bangkok to Calcutta, not knowing what to expect.

[I2011 1]

Whisky Writes

03. January 2012 · 1 comment · Categories: Whisky

master has been in india Whisky Portrait
for the past ten days
he tells me there are
lots of street dogs in india
and they all look rather like me
but none of them is as handsome
of course
he s right

Street dogs in Puri, India

in india
most of the people are hindoos
that means they revere
lots of animals such as
cows
monkeys
a bull
a crocodile
rats
and snakes

some people worship frogs
but that s just sick

i think i see a career opportunity
they don t worship dogs yet
i think i ll become their new god
there is a problem though
all the best hindu gods
have names ending in -a
such as shiv-a
krishn-a
durg-a
ram-a
brahm-a
ganesh-a
durg-a
indr-a
and sury-a

in future i shall be known
to my hindoo devotees
as whisky-a.

apparently they have
mechanical frogs in india too
but they look rather different

Indian mechanical frog

whisky


[582]

Whisky Writes

19. December 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: Whisky

i was right thatWhisky Portrait
the pyramid of mechanical frogs
was really dangerous
master was watching a documentary
about a medic who
works for the world health organisation
anyway in it
a pyramid of mechanical frogs
bursts through the wall
and attacks the medics

shocking

apparently the proper name
for a pyramid of mechanical frogs
is a christmas tree
and frogs make a lot of them
at this time of year
be on your guard

it s been a difficult week for me
a few days ago
i was taking my master out
for our regular preprandial drag

master s way too old and slow
to keep up with me

and i saw what my master calls
the ugly dog
on the opposite side of the road
normally i just keep walking
and he ignores me
this time he ran across the road
and attacked
it can t be anything i barked
i didn t say a thing
he s bigger than me
and older
i think he must envy
my youthful good looks
anyway some workmen came
and one threw his sandals
at the ugly dog and
ugly dog backed off
which was a pity because
i was about to use
one of my killer moves
that i use to deal with frogs
fortunately yours truly
wasn t badly hurt
just a small cut on my nose

i was in the kitchen
watching master shred a
breast of chicken poached
in coconut cream
when he dropped half of it
on the floor
right in front of me
i thought it a little odd
since i d already had my whiskyfood
however it would have been rude
not to wolf it down
and it was delicious
unfortunately it wasn t meant for me
master had dropped it by accident
because it was very slippery
he was very cross
now i m banned from the kitchen
so i just sit at the threshold
watching master make food
putting on my most doleful expression
if only i d been born a bloodhound
i could do a much better job

master tells me that he s
going away to india
in a couple of days
so i ll probably be too busy
to write again soon
so i ll wish you all now
a merry christmas
and a happy new year

whisky


[581]

Whisky Writes

16. December 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: Whisky

wellWhisky Portrait
i was outside
doing a spot of light gardening
the shoe trees aren t growing too well
probably because it s so cold
at the moment
they should start sprouting in spring
though

anyway
i pounded against the front door
until master let me in
and was confronted with this monstrosity

The Tower of the Mechanical Frogs

it s got lots of lights
and it s green

it s a pyramid of mechanical frogs

those dastardly frogs
snuck into the house
and built it whilst
i was happily digging a hole
is there no limit to their duplicity

i for one
will be keeping my distance
from this tower of terror

whisky


[580]

Whisky Writes

07. December 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: Whisky

the bucket came off yesterdayWhisky Portrait
the first thing i did was
give my genitals a really good
long lick
after all
with the bucket on my head
i couldn t really lick them
nice and clean
to be honest
i dont know why
my master didn t
lick them for me

next i searched the house
and garden for frogs
i reckon they must have
heard master taking
my bucket off
and hopped and hid
i couldn t find any
that said
i couldn t search upstairs
i think i used to be able
to climb the stairs
but now i ve forgotten how
that also meant i couldn t
go upstairs in the
middle of the night
to wake up master
to check that he was ok
i m sure master was
really disappointed about that

when i was wearing the bucket
i couldn t do any gardening
silly master has forgotten
how important it is
to have lots of shoe trees
in fact
he filled in all
the special holes i dug
in the grass to plant shoes
never mind
i spent some time
this morning getting rid of
the soil he put in the holes
so i can plant his shoes
nice and deeply once more

well
it s time to lick
my genitals again
so i ll sign off now

whisky

[579]

Whisky Writes

01. December 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: Whisky

master thinks i look cute Whisky Portrait
with a bucket on my head
he says it s not really a bucket
it s called an elizabethan collar
and that it makes me
look like an old fashioned
gentleman s dog
i m nobody s dog
i was born free
and i live free
as pierre-joseph proudhon s
dog probably said

any man who lays his hand
on my collar to control me
is an usurper and tyrant
and i declare him my enemy

but let me go back to the beginning

it all started on saturday morning
silly master forgot to feed me
so i went out and killed
a baby sparrow
master saw what i d done
and wouldn t let me eat it
he s so mean sometimes
anyway i forgave him
when he told me
we were going to go
for a car ride

the ride was fun
i like sticking my head
out of the window and
watching the world pass by
but when we got to our destination
i was less happy
it was the vet
that nasty person was going
to stick needles in me again
i just knew it

anyway despite my best efforts
to get away
they caught me and stuck me
suddenly i began to feel
rather strange
i felt rather sick
master held a bucket under my head
but i still managed to
vomit on the floor
after all a dog is supposed
to return to its own vomit
i read that in the bible
if i d vomitted in the bucket
i bet mean master
would have taken it away

then i fell asleep

when i woke up i felt terrible
all groggy
and somehow i felt rather lighter
down there
i thought it was an urban legend
that people got drugged
and woke up in a bathtub
with both of their kidneys missing
but something like that
has happened to me
i should report it to a police dog
but thai police dogs
sometimes won t do anything
unless you bribe them with
a stinky bone or something

despite not having had breakfast
i really didn t feel much like eating
though master cooked me all my favourites
chicken
mussels
and
beef

in fact
with a bucket on your head
eating isn t easy

apparently i m going to
have to wear this bucket
for more than a week
i do hope master
is going to carry on
giving me special food
for all this time though

because the bucket is so big
i can t get into my crate
so i have to sleep on the floor
i d really like to go upstairs
in the middle of the night
to check that master is ok
and make sure that no frogs
have crept into the house
but i can t get up the stairs
with this bucket on my head

frogs
you may be safe for now
but once the bucket comes off
beware

whisky

[578]

The Government’s Top Priority

16. November 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: Thailand News

Much of Bangkok is under water. Vast swathes of the countryside have been flooded. Hundreds of thousands of people have been displaced. There’s a severe shortage of food, drinking water and (more importantly) beer. Virtually every industrial estates in Thailand’s economic heartland has been inundated. So what is the government’s top priority?

At yesterday’s cabinet meeting it appears an unscheduled item was raised; officials were ordered to leave the room whilst it was discussed. It was a resolution concerning amnesty for prisoners. Prime Minister Yingluck was conveniently absent*. She was probably visiting some flooded site looking as if she was about to break into tears – it’s seems it’s about all she does these days. Still, it lets her claim the decision was nothing to do with her. (And to be honest, it probably wasn’t. After all, we know who really runs the government – “Thaksin thinks; Pheu Thai acts” and all that.)

There’s a tradition of a royal amnesty on the King’s birthday, 5th December, every twelve years as well as on other special occasions. However, this time is going to be a bit of a break with tradition. In the past the amnesty has been for those convicted who have served part of their prison terms and who have expressed remorse for their crimes. This time these conditions have been dropped – you just need to be over 60 and have been sentenced to imprisonment for less than 3 years. So Thaksin will be allowed to return to Thailand without ever having spent even a minute incarcerated for his criminal abuse of power. He’s probably be Thailand’s first prisoner to be released from behind bars without ever actually having been behind them.

And the timing is oh-so-convenient, with his eldest daughter getting married on the 12th next month.

There are some things in Thailand that stink worse than the flood waters.

* The Prime Minister was in Singburi. She claimed that she couldn’t get back for the cabinet meeting because neither her helicopter nor the backup helicopter could fly in the dark. The army has flatly contradicted her on this. And anyway, she still could have returned to Bangkok by road in time for the meeting. Furthermore she claims to have no knowledge of what was discussed at the cabinet meeting. Perhaps the battery in her mobile ‘phone was flat. Who knows?

[577]

Morning is Broken

16. November 2011 · Write a comment · Categories: Daily Life

Things didn’t exactly run smoothly this morning.

I had an early start. A friend, whose car, like tens or hundreds of thousands of others, is parked on high ground to avoid the flooding, asked for a lift to the nearest bus stop. I agreed, and bleary eyed picked him up and took him the kilometre or so to the main road.

I knew then that I couldn’t turn left to get back home because the road is flooded. I needed to do a U-turn, then turn north onto the ring road. However, habit kicked in (since my brain was not yet fully functional), and after the U-turn I turned south as if to go shopping. Realising the error of my (high)ways I got off at the next junction, intending to do a U-turn under the main road. The underpass was flooded and impassable. I drove on for miles passed flooded U-turn after flooded U-turn. Eventually there was a U-turn which was only flooded to 20 cm, or so the sign said. Cars were passing through in both directions, so it seemed (and was) safe.

The road ended in a T-junction. Left or right? I vaguely recalled the layout of the junction, and plumped for right, thinking that I could do a U-turn in the middle of the road if I’d got it wrong. Inevitably I had got it wrong, and furthermore couldn’t get into the U-turn lane. I was forced to turn right … which put me back on the road with all the flooded U-turns. Many miles later, dodging wandering cows and dogs, I eventually made it home; a 15 minutes trip had taken well over an hour. Not that I had been particularly looking forward to getting home. Just as I was leaving I noticed that Whisky’s coat was heavily matted with merde (or coated in caca if you prefer) – pardon my French. He must have been rolling on his back in the garden. And I’d only bathed him a couple of days before!

Morning was well and truly broken.

[576]

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