Linda Blake - Global Reporter       

 The High Holi-Day!

I was warned. “One step into Old Delhi on the high Holi-day and you surely won’t surface unmolested!”

A couple of paces in and I was pelted by paint-clogged water balloons from snickering children overhead. “Missed me,” I yelled in a jovial tone. In diplomatic fashion, I attempted to throw some orange powder toward their perch.  Bad idea.  They say that “anything’s possible in India.” But, that doesn’t mean you can fool gravity, Linda! Ugh. So, yes folks, my first official Holi color-spray was self inflicted.  

Holi, the annual Festival of Colors is a Hindu holiday that is celebrated throughout South Asia on the full moon (Phalgun Purnima). It is symbolically meant to honor the victory of good over evil.  

People express their love and appreciation for one another by sprinkling friends and foes with a variety of powdered colors. Everywhere you look you spot grinning locals disguised as preschool finger paintings. It could be all the Bhaang (Cannabis) that people slurp up, but it is said that enemies become friends on Holi. Nihang, an armed Sikh group, has even been known to call Bhaang "Peace-Giver" (Sukkha Prasad).

Decidedly bhaang free, I spent the day criss-crossing Old Delhi. After a couple of laps, a collection of faux-shy men gathered around me. They distracted me with half-broken English all the while elusively de-pocketing wads of colorful powder.   Soon I was surrounded by human fire extinguishers detonating paint flakes! Some added liquid to their color-caked paws. 

Maybe it was those platinum blonde teenage years I spent drooling over the Mac Make-Up counter. Perhaps it was my San Francisco daisy-chain of an upbringing. But, in an eye-blink I threw myself into the celebration! I was fortunate to meet some Canadian and German tourists who were just as eager to play Desi-Picasso. 

I met one interesting Indian-Canadian named Shaan Desai who has been travelling through India for a few months now. He's visiting with family members and connecting with his personal history.  

On this Holi-day that is meant to bridge cultural and social divides, Shaan was still not convinced that India would be able to transcend its great divisions and eventually take-over the global scene.  He spoke on this during a rare moment of rest.  

______________________

My second piece for Voice of America News captured the daily comedic confrontation between Pakistani Rangers and Indian Border Guards at the Wagah border crossing between Amritsar, India and Lahore, Pakistan.

I took a 5.5 hour train ride from Delhi to Amritsar, Punjab (home of the Golden Temple) and then hopped into a hired car to reach the border crossing by sunset.

"Hindustan-Pakistan-Hindustan-Pakistan." When I arrived, the cheers from thousands of Pakistan and Indian spectators - separated by a metal border gate and miles of electrically charged barbed wires - made the ground quiver with indigestion.

In the hours leading up to the ceremony, Indian women and men shook their hips provocatively - especially this macho man. I bet he'd kick butt at Dance-Dance-Revolution.  

With such carefree splurts of sensuality, it doesn't surprise me that this country birthed the holy Kama Sutra.

The Indian Border Guards and Pakistani Rangers punctuated the start of the ceremony with loud war calls.

When I am working to predict behavior for a shot,  interesting details jump out.  In this case, I loved watching the border officials take long breaths before they coiled up their tongues and tonsils to form one long YELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL.

Who knew mustached Jawans (soldiers) were so flexible. They put even the Rockettes to shame.

The kicks were not slow and graceful, they were heavy.  Their boot clunks reminded me of some serious games of hand ball I used to play in Elementary school. I could feel the sting of half a century of antagonism each time their black boots scraped the concrete.

The shoot was a visual paradise, but was not easy for a one-woman-band.

Firstly, I was forcefully told I could NOT move from a restricted seating area, lest I am knocked out by one of the border guard's ninja style kicks. Secondly, the sun sets on the Pakistan side. That means I was stuck shooting directly into an orb of bright light during the ceremony.

I needed to ensure I would get some usable footage beyond a series of silhouettes or seductive ear shots. So, I slowly started to inch my way towards the gate. One foot in front of the other I played deaf and dumb - looking intently at my PD 170's flip-out screen.

The military officials on the sidelines were not pleased. They would consistently wave their hands and drag me back to my nose-bleed spot on the left side of the road. At one point they tabled the direct diplomacy and pushed me.

I'm sure the military action had something to do with the fact that I was right in the middle of the road - blocking the view of the ten-thousand anxious spectators behind me.

My Indian friend Jaspreet - who was by my side throughout the ceremony- later told me that if I were Indian I'd most certainly be locked up. He calls my acceptable antics the "expat edge." 

The top Indian border official called me a Yankee as he was escorting me out post-ceremony.  ....working "real hard" to improve America’s image abroad.

Presenting the Beating Retreat Ceremony:

When Slumdog Millionaire scored multiple Oscar wins earlier this week, the award winning song Jai Ho roared through the streets  of Delhi, blaring from rickshaws and ringing from mobile phones.

Jai Ho is Hindi for Praise, Hail, Hallelujah, or Victory. But, perhaps a more apt translation is  India's "Yes We Can."

Many were captivated by shots of Indians cheering for the flim in Mumbai’s slums of Garib Nagar, but not all locals had their hands up in praise.

I appeared on The Curtis Sliwa Show on the ABC Radio Network and WNYC’s The Takeaway with John Hockenberry this week live from New Delhi to discuss the mixed response to Slumdog Millionaire’s bittersweet win. The appearances are posted here.  

The points I made on air were reinforced last night at a gathering with my Indian friends, many of whom work in the business sector.

Sipping mixed drinks, a group of 30-somethings started to list their Oscar favorites. The Reader, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Milk. Their main thought being, with so many good films out there why did Slumdog get such millionaire-level acclaim? My friend Kishi was certain that the studios or Danny Boyle must have bribed the Academy. “And what is the big deal with Jai Ho—that isn’t even a good song,” Kishi remarked.

I proceeded to explain that what seems like day-to-day sights and trends for them—slum reality and catchy Bollywood tunes - are emerging as very novel, raw and even romantic in the west.  

The larger question to explore: Is India being exported to the West through music and film in an authentic and just way?

Consider Danny Boyle, a director who came into India with what appear to be good intentions. Yet, there is no hiding that he is a Gora (white male) profiting off of a story that highlights India’s grimy underbelly.

And what about Smile Pinki, the Academy Award Winning Documentary focused on a little girl with a cleft palette in Uttar Pradesh. Here we have Director Megan Mylan – also white - focusing on the plight of India’s impoverished.

Is that the award earnng equation? Come to India (check), capture the pain and poverty so rampant here (check, check) and gain widespread acclaim (check).

This subtle resentment amongst more well-to-do Indians is best captured in Sadia Shepard's book A Girl From Foreign.

To summarize Shepard writes, there was an Austrian and Japanese Scientists in an Indian village outside of Mumbai collecting samples of dirt from the road. Two villagers walk by and one says to the other: “How sad they have no jobs in their own country so they have to come here and collect our dirt.”

Voice of America News internationally released my first television report on New Delhi’s efforts to curb child begging.  Here is the English version.

This video piece is actually taken through a global car-wash. The narration is translated into hundreds of different languages and it is transmitted to T.V. stations world-wide.

I had to be mindful of this when scripting; bidding adieu to my verbose public radio style.  I was additionally prohibited from using contractions. This left me discouraged at first. How on earth do I prove myself if I can’t wow people with my vivacious vocabulary, perky puns and annoying alliteration? 

Then I remembered my experiences as a tap dancer.  My former teacher Ed Robinson in New York City silently watched as I flaunted a series of triple time-steps, wings, and pull-backs.  He stopped me mid-move and asked me to do the same steps slowlllllyyy, softly. Funnily enough, my feet felt like they had just broken.  It may seem counter intuitive, but to do things simply at the core level requires so much more strength and concentration. 

That said I believe I will become a better news writer because of this demand for accurate, straight-forward story telling.  According to my mentor Steve Herman, current VOA South Asia Bureau Chief, many people learn English from Voice of America. There’s There is some additional perspective for you! 

Recording the children begging was a perspective builder as well. The third shot where one beggar kicks another child to make sure she doesn’t steal her “business” made me realize how seriously the youngsters take their jobs.

I also found it interesting to see children pocketing money with the same stoic look worn by Las Vegas bookers.



Some important details that were left on the "cuttng room floor":

*The children take the bus each day from their family home in the slums to the more affluent intersections in South Delhi to beg 

*At most they earn about fifty cents a day.  They save the money for meals and to give to their parents.

*Contrary to Slumdog Millionaire’s depiction, there is not a ruthless mafia lord behind a lot of the begging. Though, most of the children pay a type of "block tax" (percentage of their earnings) to have the rights to beg in a specific area.

*When asked explicitly in Hindi if they beg, they quickly say they sell magazines. The video shots of course say otherwise, but they have been taught to avoid incriminating comments.

*After spending an hour taping the children, they offered me some candy from a huge stash of sweets. Motorists often hand begging children candy in place of money. Perhaps this isn’t the best choice, lest they decide to enterprise and open up a corner-candy shop.

*When I was in India in 2007, a young child confessed to me that he wanted to kill himself so his parents didn't have to struggle to feed him. He felt like a burden. The fact is many child beggars see their day-in-day out pan handling as a job by which they can relief a burden from their parents in a country where social services are strapped. 

*Childline’s Chief Executive learned from newspaper ads that she was now the go-to place for child beggar reports. I placed several calls to New Delhi’s Ministry of Women and Child Development asking them why they did not reach out to Childline before they tasked them with such a gargantuan responsibility. One Deputy Minister defendedthe publicity campaign and contended Childline has long been designated as an NGO that takes care of all children - including beggars. They are planning to meet with Childline staffers later this month to discuss an official action plan.


Next TV Project: I will look at the growing influence of mobile phone content in India. Young Indians - poor and rich alike - are being taught about civic issues and taboo topics such as sex through mobile games like Safety Cricket.

I celebrated my birthday last week with some wonderful new friends in India. As is tradition, they swooshed chocolate birthday cake across my face and took turns feeding me.  They also threw me into the air as many times as I am year’s old. I felt like a baby being burped by ARod.  

That same night, I also got to take a brief trip to the Hyatt in Delhi to record Musical Legend Herbie Hancock being interviewed by my old boss Tavis Smiley. I really miss Tavis and the radio gang. It was such a nice treat to say hello to them down the tin-phone line-- sitting next to an icon.

I was there to conduct a tape sync--which means I record Herbie's voice while Tavis spoke with him on the telephone. I then send the audio to Los Angeles for the  show to use.

Right when the interview with Tavis starts, Herbie's stomach starts growling repeatedly. It came in surround-sound through my headphones. And..you know what? Even his stomach growls are musical!  

Herbie Hancock was part of a delegation celebrating the 50th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s first visit to India to trade notes on the non-violent tradition with the late Gandhi. Martin Luther King III lead this delegation of America’s top civil rights leaders, congressional representatives and musicians, all here to retrace the steps of his father. 

I briefly interviewed MLK III standing before Rajhat Ganj (Gandhi's final resting place) last weekend about what he hoped the take-away would be from this great journey. He had just thrown rose petals in honor of the anniversary of the meeting of two great visionaries. Here was our impromptu conversation:

I am still looking for evidence in India of this awakening MLK III says the world is experiencing. Tangible evidence beyond the election of a Black President in the states, of course and the symbolic success of Slumdog Millionaire.

With our financial systems practically narcoleptic, there will most certainly be a renewed search for spirituality and meaning to fill in the gangrene gap.  Question is, how will this resonate in India--a historic hot-spot for this type of soul searching amongst foreigners?

I have been pigeonholed in India. Literally. The room I am staying in has an air conditioner system built into the wall. A hive of pigeons live inside. Each morning at 7:30 my pigeon alarm clock goes off: cacophonous scratches jolt me awake.  The huffs & puffs they murmur while in heat are bearable. But, this sound is something far more sacrilegious. It smacks of a slaughter house. That, or a Mike Patton track! 

This is obviously making me loony. As you can see for yourself, if I turn on the air conditioner to clear the wall of these beasts, the noise generated is louder than the pigeon squawks.  I have gone from denial (trying to sleep through the noise) to acceptance.....

Three young girls and a bottomless baby approached me yesterday near Delhi’s Lodi Garden with extended hands.  The trio revealed to me that they have been working the streets since they, too were bottomless babies.  When I asked if they ever had time to play the seven, ten and eleven-year-olds shook their heads "no."

Beggars and Bollywood

My first week in Delhi has been nothing short of exhausting.  Each time I leave the house is pure vaudeville.

In order to catch a rickshaw I have to put on a Vegas hustler act. No joke - for 10 minutes I stand on a busy street corner and chat-up the drivers before getting one who will a) actually go to my destination AND b) agree to follow the law and use the meter.   

I finally set-off in a rickshaw. At the first intersection, the chorus begins: “10 rupees, 10 rupees Madame.”   When a group of 4-year-olds beggars approach me one minute feels like an hour. Barefoot and covered in dirt, they stare at me with their big baby-eyes. They paw at my pants and tap their puppy-dog lips....  

The intersection quickly becomes a personal cross-road between my emotions and my intellect. A loud “no” will only encourage them more.  I know that I can’t, in good taste, offer them a single rupee.  After all, the money goes right into someone else’s pockets.  If I offer them a meal, they often turn it down. But, they look so hopeless...  What to do?  So, I sit there paralyzed in close confrontation with my humanity.

I am exploring Indian efforts to stop child begging in my first TV piece. The deadline is fast approaching. I have been working tirelessly to find people who will speak honestly about this sensitive topic.  

To do this story right, I can’t go around like an American Cowgirl on some sort of save-the-children crusade.  Good & evil bleed together like tie-dye in India. Who is to say that begging is all bad? Is it not just another means of survival for people in a country where little support is given for social services?  Point blank, this ain’t some Bollywood movie with classifiable heroes and villains... 

--------

In lighter news, there is definite Bollywood flair to another freelance project I am working on. This one is for Public Radio International. 

This weekend I interviewed Vijay, a Bollywood poster painter in a run-down arts studio in Darya Ganj, Delhi. 

Finding Vijay’s studio wasn’t easy. Since there really aren’t addresses in many parts of Delhi, I had to rely on landmarks to find my way.  It is impossible to find Vijay without tracking down the local Pan Wallah (person who sells betels and cigs) first. With a philosopher’s smirk and red-stained teeth he sends you on your way....  Below is a video I took of him in action.  Not bad considering I shot it on my digital camera! 

One hundred meters from the Pan Wallah was the art studio.  It's hard to believe that this place was once like Hollywood’s Roosevelt Hotel, a celeb magnet for Bollywod stars.  Today tattered sheets dance from broken rafters.  Crows scream overhead and chipped paintings are mixed into piles of colorful trash.   Vijay equated the fall of his studio to the "sinking Titanic."  

I went there this weekend because Vijay’s got a fight in him yet. He's found an innovative way to keep his classical art alive.  And I  find it freakin' fascinating. You'll have to hear the story for the scoop. I will put the link up once it airs! Meanwhile, enjoy some of the photos of Vijay's studio below.

Sweet scents saturated in stench. Soot soiled handshakes and toothless smiles masked by saffron viles. Ohhhh India....

Here are some visual snippets from my first evening shoot in Delhi. Figuring out how to navigate a camera through India’s chaotic street scene is like learning how to drive a car all over again. I was always one child-sized kick,  spill or rickshaw side-sweep away from total equipment meltdown! Notice the snowflakes of smiles and seductive stares in the background of nearly every shot. I love it.

I met this beautiful group of children in Pushkar, India in 2007. This is what I meant about the incredible “ham for the cam,” stylings I’ve encountered when trying to shoot candid scenes here.  Watching the youngsters' raw exposition of pride always makes me a little tearful...

In other news, I have been working on a TV piece on controversial eforts to curb child begging in India with CHILDLINE 1098 (a hotline that locals are encouraged to call to report young beggars). As I work away, it isn’t the language barrier, as I suspected, that has been my toughest challenge. In fact most diplomats and NGO workers speak better English than myself (The Queen's English, to be sure). The real issue is navigating the bureaucracy and unconventional work schedules.  

Here is a play-by-play of my day today. Firstly, to get in touch with someone, anyone, from a specific government entity I had to dial out on a landline at least 3 times to ensure the number actually locked. Secondly, if I am ringing anyone I MUST have their cell number as they are never in the office, nor would anyone know their whereabouts or anticipated return... that meant I tell a few white lies to hook numbers we don't have on file. Thirdly, when I finally reach a warm voice (after dialing 10 times and letting it ring), more often than not, I find out the individual was just transferred horizontally to another directory/office. 

One high ranking secretary joked with me today that he wakes up in the morning fully expecting his office to have disappeared. In fact, it had just happened as he was no longer in the Department of Child Labor... which I was hoping to reach.  So, not only can I not get in touch with people to book them, but I cannot figure out who currently runs the department that I hope to speak with... 

Did you ever play Telephone when you were younger? How 'bout Musical Chairs? This effort is the best of both....with a dash of the game Sorry for added spite.

It’s all part of the fun.  Though, tomorrow it's on! Officials be warned, I’m turning full-on American debt-collector on you!

So much I have yet to share including updates on my pseudo-Bollywood adventure, my potential future as an outsourcee—earning Indian wages, no less (how's that for a table-tuner), and  my upcoming journey to a small village 4 hours outisde of Delhi. All in due time..

AND as promised, I plan to finally post video of my first shoot in India first thing tomorrow when I score a high-speed internet hook-up!