Horn OK Please

By ANDREW SCOWCROFT

A Brit Abroad - When cultures collide they provide opportunities for misunderstanding, embarrassment and humour. This book is a collection of just such stories. 
Andrew Scowcroft writes with genuine humour, and a real love of the people and culture of India. His anecdotes take you behind the apparent chaos and mayhem that the first-time visitor often experiences in the vast, bustling city that is Mumbai.
He views the disturbing poverty and stunning wealth of India with the eyes of a Westerner, but at the same time has been careful not to impose his values on their way of life. He sometimes struggles with this conflict, and in so doing we get a fresh perspective on this fascinating, vibrant and ancient culture.

This book is a celebration of the people of Mumbai, their fortitude, and their sheer joy of life.

If you like Bill Bryson, we think you'll like this!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Onion Custard Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Dec 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519929686

Book preview

For my family, who lend me to India each year and try not to look too pleased about it.

Preface

During the past eight years, I have had the good fortune and privilege to travel to India each year to deliver business skills training to managers of one of its biggest global companies, the Aditya Birla Group.

In common with many visitors to that amazing sub-continent, I am continually struck by its contrasts, its multiple cultures, its sea of humanity, and its unquenchable entrepreneurial spirit. As Judy Dench’s character reports in the recent film comedy The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, India is an assault on the senses.

On every trip I flip-flop constantly between admiration for the fortitude of large parts of the population, given the conditions in which they live and work, and discomfort at the close proximity to the extremes in poverty and wealth. I am also constantly terrified by its roads and drivers.

This book sets out my experiences and observations, and aims to achieve three things – in diminishing order of seriousness.

The first is to shine a light on the part of India I visit most often – Mumbai and its satellite business district, Navi Mumbai (New Bombay). My observations are laced with comment and idle comparisons between Indian culture and my own back in the UK, not with the intention to challenge either, but simply to entertain.

The second is to pay tribute to the people, their work ethic, the extraordinary over-manning of routine tasks, and the latter’s apparently vital role in maintaining the Indian economy.

The third and final objective is to re-live, without resorting to expensive therapy, my experience of the Indian road system and its inhabitants. I should warn you that most of my observations were made from a crouching position between the front and rear seats of the car my client kindly provides for my visits, so do not expect either complete accuracy or impartial reporting.

I was born with a totally undeserved ability to spot and then extract the faintly ridiculous and amusing in almost any situation. This has sometimes brought me perilously close to physical threat, and regularly caused my family exasperation and embarrassment, as evidenced by a desire to distance themselves from me in public. However, my frequent trips to this heavily populated part of India have gifted me with many opportunities to see both the ridiculous and the amusing.

For example, in the splendid training centre owned by my client, there used to be a typed notice stuck to the wall next to the lifts, comprising the words AVOID MORE THAN 5 PEOPLE IN THE LIFT. Now, I know exactly what the intention of the notice is but I simply can’t help deliberately misunderstanding stuff like that. To me it implies that if I see more than five people in a lift, I should immediately walk away from them. Also if there are only four people do I need to find two more, just so I can comply with the request? I mentioned this sign, and my rather immature interpretation, to my hosts – the sign has since been removed. Of course they may just take it down whilst I am there to avoid me making fun of it. That’s what I would do!

Finding odd signs is a rather sad hobby of mine. Fortunately India provides a rich source of material, not least of which is this road sign.

As you will read later, Mumbai’s drivers tend to take no notice of signs anyway, which is just as well given the contradictory instructions on this one.

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In the aforementioned lift there is a cooling fan built into the ceiling, operated by a switch on the wall panel. Given that the lifts and stairways are the only parts of the building not air-conditioned, this facility can provide a welcome blast of fresh air during the journey from the sixth to the ground floor. Except that it doesn’t. An unnamed employee has decided to strap an air freshener block inside the casing of the fan, labeled as containing the exotic fragrance of jasmine. The fan is so powerful that when switched on it creates the impression that someone has squirted Glade in your face. I now simply sweat during my journey in the lift – the alternative just gives me a headache.

At intervals around the building there are the usual red fire extinguishers, some mounted on the wall, others free standing. Nothing unusual there. Except that the big labels on each one say CEASE FIRE. Either they are ex-army issue, or just showing this label to any developing conflagration will be enough to stop it in its tracks.

In the commercial complex just across the road, there is an entry gate and an exit gate. On the latter some helpful person has hand-painted the words OUT GET. Thank you, that makes everything much clearer.

The situations recalled in the book are highly selective, due mainly to my zone of experience being tightly defined. My travels take me on the same general route each time – to and from Mumbai’s international airport and the business district of Navi Mumbai, some 15 kilometres to the northeast.

Normally my flights are direct between Heathrow and Mumbai. However the most recent trip involved a brief stop over in Delhi but, with no time to leave the airport between connecting flights, I can report little of the world outside that terminal although the terminal itself was fabulous.

In previous years I have also been fortunate to visit Bangalore (Bengaluru) in the south of India and Calcutta (Kolkata), in the northeast. On both occasions the trips were just a few days in length but the people and driving experiences seemed similar to those in Mumbai, suggesting that at least some of the scenes in this book are representative.

What started out as simply a series of observations about my experiences – made during coffee and lunch break conversations with my course delegates, and when dropping into my client’s offices to waste some of their time – grew into a ritual where I was continually asked for details of my latest adventure. Finally I promised to put these down in a book.

Whilst my hosts were fascinated by my reactions to what for them was the epitome of normality, they