Not enough rain

It’s raining. Not a downpour, not drizzle, but good old ordinary intermittent rain. And this is the second day in succession. Temperature and humidity decrease comfortably and a breeze stirs to help things along. It certainly isn’t monsoon rain though. Many parts of India are now officially classified as drought areas, talk is that the monsoon has failed and locals are saying we won’t get any retreating monsoon and that it’s over. Hope not.

One would think that a drought would worry the Government of India, certainly when it comes to food supplies. But actually food stocks, particularly rice, are enormous. More than enough to keep the undernourished population fed for a few years. So why is a large percentage of the population undernourished? Government warehouses are bulging with the stuff. And the storage set up costs a small fortune to run. We wonders, we wonders.

When is a credit card not a credit card?

When it’s not what you asked for. Some months back (sorry, so long lost count) we requested an add-on card for our existing credit card. Several months of phone calls, forms, rubber stamps, and trips by us to the bank (and them to us) a courier duly delivered said card. Except it’s not what we asked for. Instead the whole rigmarole has produced a brand new credit card account and a different card. We’d like to say we knew where it had all gone wrong, but we don’t and neither do the people at the bank. So we are breathing deeply and contemplating whether to just settle for what we’ve got, or make a second attempt which will probably mean starting the whole process again. It’s hard to credit (no pun intended) that it’s so complicated.
One hour on: after a visit to the bank the bank people have said they will come to our flat with a new form to fill in. They took a lot of convincing that Alison really did want a joint credit card and not a new account with a different company but we finally managed it.
Monsoon has finally got into full swing after a laggardly start. It’s wonderful when the heavens open and the streets turn quickly into rivers and the temperaturte remains reasonably cool.

One hour on: We think we’ve figured it out. The people at the bank are on commission to open new credit card accounts so they have been getting us to fill in forms bit by bit so that we don’t recognise what’s really going on. Perhaps they should have offered a cut of the proceeds so that we get fully integrated into the system of backhanders. Could be a profitable little business for a couple of months while we exhaust banks and credit card providers.

Patrolling Goa

Not much happening at the moment. Grey skies leaking rain, business slowing down, trying to take advantage of a slack period… but feeling a bit guilty about not doing much.

The bank has at last managed to open our new account, but the credit card business seems to have fallen again.

Three months ago we read in the papers that about twenty of the thirty patrol motorbikes belonging to the police force were off the road due to shortage of funds for repairing them. Today we read that the police have launched with much gusto a select band of police motorcycle cops who will operate 24/7. They will have thirty motorbikes, ten new and twenty repainted (no mention of repair, so they probably are still not working). Also there are only twelve cops on 8 hour shifts leaving some difficulty in covering the 24/7 idea.

It is in the paper and therefore not necessarily accurate, but the numbers indicate there may be some truth in the matter.

Goan Appointments

The title is accurate in so far as Goan and appointments can be put down in the written word and appear to make sense; in actuality they are near impossible to put together. We give you today’s example. Alison has only two appointments. A Mr da S at 10 am and a Mrs F at 10.30. Both appointments have been requested on the previous day, both are regular clients so know the score.
Mr da S does turn up; 90 minutes late. At 12 Mrs F phones to ask when her appointment is. Alison tells her she has missed it. Mrs. F then asks for another appointment; no apologies.
Changing tack on fixed time appointments, Alison says ‘Come this evening’. In Goan speak this means between 3 and 7.
Mrs F asks ‘What time?’.
Alison says ‘Just come when you are ready.’
Mrs F: ‘What time?’
A: ‘Anytime this evening’
Mrs F: ‘Shall I come now, doctor’
A: ‘Yes, please do’
Mrs F: ‘But doctor, it’s raining’
Alison wonders inwardly what she can do about this.
A: ‘Sorry, I can’t do anything about the rain. I suggest you come after monsoon’.
This little joke falls flat and the appointment making starts again until Alison correctly guesses the time the Goan client had in mind anyway. Then everyone is happy – until she didn’t turn up.

Refer to above.

Political interference gone mad

Goa’s in such good shape that the honourable leader of the opposition has had time to table and get through a motion banning the use of religious names eg Shiva, Jesus for bars and restaurants. A noble undertaking on the face of it, as the use of such names could be inappropriate for what some people here clearly regard as ‘dens of iniquity’.

The new law came into force on 29 June and guess what. It’s already in trouble. You see, Indian parents routinely name their offspring after religious figures. We personally know people called Shiva, Jesus, Maruti and Pavarti. And as for the many Peters, Pauls and Johns, not to mention more intriguing Goan-specific offerings eg Nazareth, Ignatius, Halleluia, Milagres (Miracle); well it’s easier to spot the people who don’t have religious-oriented names. No surprises also to find that Goans do name their bars and restaurants after members of their family – ‘yes, my mother really is called Shantadurga’.

‘We know the bar’s called Jesus – but that refers to Jesus Gonsalves my grandfather, not the son of man.’

What to do? as they say here. Still if anyone decides to fight the closure of their bar through the courts, they’ve got at least 10 more years of operation given the state of India’s judicial system.

Patience of Job

Ignore this blog. It’s just another gripe and putting it out makes us feel better!
We are trying to open a bank account, with the bank we’ve been with for over four years. We are trying to replace Alison’s joint credit card, which was cancelled due to an e-error, same bank. We’ve lost count of the number of visits we’ve made to the bank over these two matters; now the bank people are even coming to our flat for meetings. The bank people don’t seem to know what paperwork they require and always request another form or letter to be completed following what we think is a conclusive meeting. Papers get sent to HO in Bombay. There a clerk spots a spelling error ie Alsion Bale instead of Alison Bale and the papers are returned. Today our clerk at this end suggested we start again and fill in a new application form. Alsion (sic) told him to forget the whole thing, it wasn’t worth the sweat. We’d get a credit card elsewhere. The clerk has said that he’ll come round to the flat for another meeting; he can’t be seen to be the one who has lost the business. This was followed by a phone call from the guy setting up the new account, telling us that Bombay HO have a query!
Ho hum. It’s really getting our goat.

More Tales from The Office (2)

(We wrote part one a week ago)

Martin has since spoken to the bank manager twice about the missing joint credit card; once face to face and once on the phone. The clerk involved has made another visit to the flat and requested another piece of paper and will make yet another visit to collect same when we have it. We haven’t had any of the phone calls yet. Nobody can speed the system up.

In India, it seems, the replacing of lost documents, credit cards, etc. is an even longer-winded and painful exercise than obtaining the original.

(Vision of armies of ‘lost document’ clerks trying to get copies of documents they themselves have lost from another army of ‘lost documents lost by lost-document clerks’ and so on ad infinitum.)

More tales from The Office

Spelling error. You must do a new form.

Yesterday the bank called Alison to bring in one document so that she could get her joint credit card back. The original was cancelled after a power failure when sending a form over the internet required when the CC company was upgrading security. She applied for a replacement two months ago, re-filling the original form.

Alison checked with the account manager who had phoned that he really did need to see only one document and he said yes, the PAN card was all that was needful.
When she got there and waited 20 minutes for him to see her, he asked for details from four other documents and made her fill in the same form that she filled in two months ago. Then he said she would have to wait while they phoned both of us up to make sure we were who we said we were. We’ve been with this bank for more than three years! Come and live in India for a couple of years. Does wonders for one’s patience.

We are slowly getting to grips with the idea that all paperwork is scrutinised by at least three people and four times out of five will fail at one of the scrutinies. We accept that the majority of things have to be done at least twice, but remember well when one bank asked Alison to make six signatures so that a clerk was certain she was who she said she was, despite producing passports, driving licences etc.etc. The trust factor in India seems to be very low and we feel particularly towards foreigners in Goa.

Notaries

When we first arrived in India, we were mystified that most documentation for bureaucrats and police had to be notarised. We weren’t familiar with this in the UK when as a rule photocopies were acceptable proofs. Anyway we soon learned that notaries were two-a-penny in India, and although not computerised and eveything was long-winded, it was not a difficult or expensive process.

When we returned to the UK, we felt that it might be useful to have some documents like passport, visa and driving licence notarised in the UK for further evidence of who we are in India. However, having located three notaries in the vicinity of Kidderminster we learned that one was on holiday, one had broken his foot and was not notarising, and the other could not give us an appointment until 27th (a week after we had departed). So we thought a trip to Birmingham would be needed as notaries didn’t seem so thinly spread.

Before going, we enquired about costs and time. The notarising process in the UK is not the same as in India. It takes longer; lots longer. Not a matter of minutes or hours, but weeks and lots more to-ing and fro-ing. The cost was heavy too. We stepped back in amazement and abandoned the whole idea.

But a word to the wise. If you are considering setting up in business in India and are not based there ie do not have a residential address, you have to get your documents notarised in the UK.

The Morgue

A friend of ours died recently here in Margao. His passing was expected and he shuffled off this mortal coil peacefully. He would have been very amused with the aftermath.

A friend of his took responsibilty for claiming and disposing of the body. This of course involved much paperwork, which included what must be a classic. The friend had to sign piece of paper waiving any claim against the hospital in the event of rats having gnawed at the corpse. (The hospital in question was the top state hospital – the GMC or Goa Medical College.)

In addition, the friend was advised to check personally that it was the right body. You can guess the next bit, can’t you. Of course, it was the wrong body. And it was humming a bit as the refrigeration plant hadn’t been working properly (no surprises there, then). No matter, the situation was eventually resolved and ashes scattered appropriately.

As a footnote, the best private hospital in Goa (The Appollo Victor, Margao) doesn’t have a refrigeration plant at its morgue. They only hold a body for four hours before they inject embalming fluid and then only for another ten hours thereafter.

While on the subject of corpses, we don’t think we told you about the package from South India which had remained uncollected for six months at Margao railway station. Railway staff opened the package to find a decayed body. We suspect that they had opened it unofficially, for they summoned a rickshaw, loaded the resealed package and despatched it (we don’t know where). However the parcel fell apart and some limbs appeared, much to the distress of the driver, who promptly returned to the station. Police are investigating, so we are not holding our breaths for the outcome.