Reporting Lost Phone to Police

Having lost my cell phone, I was advised repeatedly to make a police report, so with great trepidation and considerable rehearsal in my head, I went to the cop shop.  See, my phone is provided by my office, and technically non-Indians are not allowed to have Indian phones, plus, my office is hated by the police for several reasons, starting with them trying to end torture in India, virtually all of which is inflicted by the police. But, into the local police station I go, speak to the big fellow looking not friendly standing in the alleyway/entrance, saying I'd lost the mobile phone my friend had lent me for my little holiday, and began to weep profusely, apologizing, crying and crying, "so sorry so sorry" I'm saying, "it's not mine, oh dear it's not mine".  He is obviously accustomed to people crying, because he didn't soften, but did tell me to write out my complaint - this is beiing helpful for him - so I tear a page out of my little spiral notebook that I always have with me, and write in block letters the phone number, that it was lent to me by a friend, lost on the road between Trivandrum and Kanyakumari and that I am Laura Stevens U.S.A. He directs me to "the writer".  This is a fellow who actually stops what he's doing - drinking tea and writing something - reads my piece of paper, asks that I add my signature and the name and address of the owner of the phone. "Ms Veena, 6 Vallabai Rd. Madurai"  All true, just without the office's name.  (No issue about just one name - lots of people have just one name.) Meanwhile, I'm looking around at his office, which is fully out of Dickens. Shelves and shelves and surfaces everywhere covered with papers tied with string, all handwritten, foolscap size (11 x 14), many ledgers with dates showing: ""93, '94, '95"  "'02, '03, '04"  Nothing more recent that '04. My complaint is written out with carbon paper, handed over to another fellow who has two stripes on his sleeve, tho' they are patched and stiched, having been laundered to near-death.  This officer has the power of the ink pad.  He stamps my complaint with a police seal in lurid purple ink, gives me the original and keeps the copy.  Now I have proof of what?  I try to go to the phone company's office to report the number should be turned off, but this is a vain search.  After lots of round and round I give up, decide I'll do it in the next town where there are more tourists and maybe more help.  At the last, I discover that my phone company, Airtel, is also Aircel and I did see an Aircel office that probably would have been sufficient.  Basically no one knew that the 2 companies are the same, maybe 2 divisions of one entity, no effort by them to advertise this fact.  Instead it always seems from the signs and ads that they are competitors and I wondered how it was possible for such confusion to be allowed.  Bleech!

Erotic Carvings at Suchindram Temple

This could be a long tale about losing my cell phone, retracing my steps to find it, to no avail, but that's not why you're reading this, let's be honest.  The title says "erotic" and that's what made you stop and read it. This temple isn't even listed as one of the erotic temples of India, as far as my searches show, but there are 1108 pillars with carvings of all sorts of people and animals (I didn't count them, I believe what I read) and I'd estimate 25% are sexual, but not as in people doing it.
A brief listing of some show stoppers:  figure with elongated breasts, sort of trumpet shaped (wide end on the chest) ending in penis-head-nipples; a woman with an ecstatic expression, standing with legs apart, knees bent, dog between her legs, snout in her yoni (vagina);  figure sucking on its own long curvey lingum (penis) emerging from its big-lipped yoni, no breasts.
Plenty of run-of-the mill figures with erections, some large enough to go 'round their necks and then some.
A few couples coupling.
Every animal figure has an identifiable gender: testicles, udders, some erections.
The manner of worship in the temples includes much rubbing of statues, carvings, objects generally, including applying ghee, rose water, garlands, (all sold in the temple if you didn't bring it along) then touching oneself around the face that is reminiscent of crossing oneself.  Sometimes the ghee is lit, so things are flaming too.  The figure sucking its own long long dick is especially dark from ghee around the mouth and all along the shaft; the woman and dog is heavily rubbed on the breasts but nowhere else.  The breasts cum penises is untouched.
What does it all mean???
(One unconvincing explanation is that it teaches young monks who will leave the temple priesthood after some years about what to expect in life outside. What? Let me know if you've got a lingum coming out of a yoni that you suck, please. I'll keep it confidential, promise.)

Thiruvananthapuram

This is a town in southern Kerala, the Indian state on the southern west coast; it is also called Trivandrum, because westerners can't pronounce the real name.  This is the start of my December holiday, a little tour 'round the south, some off the beaten track (here) and some on (Kochin, Bangalore, Mysore).  The much touted local zoo, called by Lonely Planet one of the very best in the nation, is a horrid prison for animals with pleasant leafy walkways and the omnipresent garbage.  The two also-touted art museums similarly disappoint - especially the one closed for renovations. And wouldn't you know, there's been an auto(taxi) strike, making me walk more than I wanted in the blazing sun, and then being seriously ripped off by a scab.  I knew he was a scab, rather than an owner of his own taxi (who are not on strike) when he wouldn't take me all the way down the road to my hotel, making me walk the last 100 yards, to avoid being seen by the other drivers.  After charging me Rs. 100 for a Rs. 30 ride.  ($2.25 instead of 70 cents) The nerve!
Then today was a long jaunt out of town to another destination hailed as lovely - Neyyer Dam Park - and it was, again except for the garbage.  Really a lot of garbage!  Walking around a big lake formed by a dam, with little rest stops and various sights, piles of styrofoam take-out boxes.  And plastic bottles and cigarette packs and on and on.
The forest that circles most of the lake includes a big rubber plantation so I saw hundreds of trees with little cups and spouts attached, dripping white goo into the cups, and pretty spiral scoring all up the trees.  Inside the plantation itself, fenced from the path, was no garbage; just piles up against the fence.
As I learned from my Urban Studies majored daughter (Rachel) garbage on the ground is a direct result of absence of garbage cans.  And it's true.  There are virtually none anywhere I've been.  I look for them; my family laughs at me for this, saying of course there aren't any, and they freely throw their trash on the ground, laughing even more as I put mine in my bag to take home.  I suspect my trash receptacle from my room gets emptied into the road too, after a brief stop in a larger receptacle in the back area of the house.
Meanwhile, my very pleasant and clean hotel ($17 per night) has a tv with HBO but no BBC or CNN, so I watch Bruce Willis movies and an Indian news channel that is allegedly in English.  Listening very carefully I get the gist, especially since they are quite repetitious, so there are several chances to catch their meaning.  Some of it is too obscure and local to understand, but some is grimly understandable.  The big news is that a man who was the Inspector General of the Police of India molested a 14 year old girl in 1990; she killed herself in 1993; he was promoted many times while the case was pending (from 1990) and now has been sentenced to 6 months in jail. The case is now on appeal.  He is shown sitting in the sun in his villa's large garden (I hope he burns to death in this sun) and is quoted as saying, "Forget it; it's so long ago."  Much breast beating in the media and by the prosecutor about the light sentence.  Bare mention of the 19 years, thus far.
Tomorrow a long day to palaces, temples, the tip of India where 3 oceans meet, no television, and I'll bet anyone Rs. 10 lots more garbage.

Yet Not

"Are the glasses ready for me to pick up?"
"Yet not."

Police Complaint Experiment

A newspaper article from 2007 reported an experiment ordered by the Director General of Police for the state of Tamil Nadu in which 85 policemen were sent as complainants to police stations where they were unknown.  They reported back that "some of them were abused, some others beaten up."  The purpose of the study was to improve the image of the police.  The Director General said that "...if the police deviate from the principle as to what they should do...", "...they would tarnish the image of the force...", and '...realising that image of the force had taken a beating [pun intended?], a 'police image project' was launched." They also decided to create a course at the Police Training College on human rights and police image.  Emphasis on image in the original.  (This article was in one of the police torture files I've been reading at my office, which has a special emphasis on ending torture in India, where it is estimated 1.8 million people are tortured every year, mostly by the police.)

Photo Blog Address: RCOBO2.blogspot

So twice I gave the wrong address for my photo blog and have now fixed it - smart Rachel found the errors - and I so want people to see the pictures, I make this special post repeating the information:  RCOBO2.blogspot.com.  The pictures may not be great art but they are fine anthropology.

Gujarati Ladies' Sarees

Downtown shoping yesterday, near the big temple where both tourists and pilgrims in great numbers can be found, two women are coming towards us and Premi, my host mom, says "Those ladies are from Gujarat."  As some of you may know, sarees are wrapped differently in different regions, and Premi recognizes everything about sarees, so I take a closer look, and damned if one of the women isn't basically naked above the waist. A very flimsy ladoo (the part of the saree thrown over the shoulder) covers an even flimsier little blouse, with no undegarment, so not only is her whole midriff bare (which is standard for most saree wearers all over India) but the blouse doesn't conceal anything either.  Perky little breasts pointing right at me, everything clear as a centerfold, but sexier because of the hint of coverage.  I exclaimed, "But she's naked!" and Premi laughed, "Yes amah [mom], that's the way they do there."

Verbatim Quote from a Divorce Case

4. The husband in his plaint alleged infidelity and loose moral character on the part of wife and that was the principal ground for seeking divorce. It was further alleged by the husband that despite the fact that he had not visited the wife for more than a year and was on duty in the Army where he is a Sepoy and yet a son was born and the husband emphasised this circumstance as proof positive of the illicit relations of his wife with others. It was also alleged that the behaviour of his wife towards his parents left much to be desired.
5. The wife in her reply contradicted and condemned all the aforesaid allegations of the husband and maintained that the son born to her was the legitimate child of the plaintiff-appellant and the vicious allegations made by the husband against her are all totally false. She denied that she had been rough and rude to her in-laws.
6. The couple have an 11 years old daughter and she is admittedly a legitimate daughter of the plaintiff-appellant.
...
8. It may be mentioned at the outset that the approach of the trial Court to the case was misconceived. The trial Court should have realized that in cases of such disputes between the husband and wife, the approach should not be the same as in property disputes. The matter should be dealt with as relating to animate and not inanimate objects. Instead of trying to resolve the dispute firmly and finally, the trial Judge just dismissed the suit with the findings that the allegations of the husband had not been proved.
...
10. In cases of this nature, it should not be deemed necessary to give categorical findings with regard to illicit relations of the wife. For the family and the society as a whole, such matters need to be kept under wraps to avoid discomfiture and disgrace, particularly, when the Court can do without being specific in this regard.
11. What the Court needs to see is vicious and violent allegations of illicit relationship are being hurled by the husband with impunity. If divorce is refused, the husband and wife will not be able to live together, because, the scars inflicted by such cruel allegations will never heal and the husband and wife will never remain united hereafter because of the dissentions and disputes.
12. It is not the policy of law to break up homes but a house which is torn asunder by constant strifes and bickerings is a hell and must be broken up. It is in this perspective that the dispute should be visualized. Looked at, from this point of view, the only remedy which seems appropriate, is to grant divorce.