One last glass of pom grenade juice… Farewell

I’m trying to think of a good way to end this blog and whether I explain why I’m pulling the plug. Maybe I won’t say that much at all.

I have always wanted to share this one with you. So I present you  – Again with a good wine glass of Prom Grenade juice and reasonable dose of tired and weariness – The Flower Duet from the Opera Lakme…


I enjoyed our time together and either way our hands will bring us back together. Thank you for all the giggles, sighs and tears.

Under the thick dome where the white jasmine
Ah! We descend


‘I want my Moped… Goddamnit!’ or ‘Le chutiya’s part deux’

Yes I’m back (Thanks to Lallo’not so uncle’pallo) and eventhough I enjoyed my glorious days of uber lazyness resulting in the most scandalous cheetosstains and lusious looking chocolate moustaches – I think it’s about time!

First things first. I won’t be rambling about my India experiences here on this blog – yup, I’m closing the store! I’ve sold my soul to another company and by the end of the next week I have to pack my bags…

Okay maybe just a little bit of rambling; I freaking miss it! The frustration, the forrest, all the lovely people I met, chilly chicken and other roadside foodies, the lack of tv or a good internet connection, the quitness, the tea, the crazifying  weather of like a gazzilion degrees, the gigantic poochies, the friendly airtel lady who bugged me in my lonely hours ooooh and most of all I miss my lifepartner for five months, my beloved, sacred, abused and broken sweet sweet moped. My two wheeled hero of scrap and rust, who stayed with me during every accident, lying always patiently on top of me. Ohhh bless the asses that will take care of you now. Fare well and drive well my love.

Enfin where were we, of yes the chutiya part. Air France. Wait let me say those two words again but slower… A I R…… F R A N C E…….

what the heck was I thinking, I knew it, the whole world knows it, even they know it

They suck.



(First they took my undies then they let me wait!)


(For 6 – plus I don’t know how many delays after that – freaking hours)


(Le Chutiya’s!)


I might be totally unfair here but let’s not pay attention to that. 🙂

Hindustan times: Creativity is great, but plagiarism is faster

This afternoon I was having a conversation about being being good doesn’t means you always have to be nice. Saying yes while you mean no, having somebody else take credit for your hard work just because you don’t think it’s worth the fight or letting one of your photo’s get printed  by The Hindustan Times – without any notification, without any credits, without any payment, without any word of thanks… without any shame.

It’s not being good it’s just being bad to yourself.

Nita, who you might know from A wide angle view of India     and a subscriber of the Hindustan Times got today what she definitely didn’t pay for; a picture taken by herself and published by herself on her own blog got published in the Hindustan times (a major newspaper in India that in contrary to Nita earns money – $9000 for the quarter – with it’s articles)  without any form of permission!

She spoke up – The full story you can read here: A major Indian newspaper steals a blogger’s photograph!!

How you can support? Get the word out there – if you haven’t been at it for a while just blow that dust from your keyboard and have your say. Be good to yourself!


Picture me Wild

Folks just some snaps from gorgeous Auroville just to prove those ‘horrible horrible amateurs’ working at BCC wrong. Hope you like ’em. I’ve been trying to put some pictures up for a while. These few are from the Irumbai tempel nearby Kottakarai, a village in the outer ring of Aurovillë:


Salaam Bombay

It made a huge impact on me as kid. Salaam Bombay. I didn’t know the meaning of those two words. I didn’t know that there was something different other than Hinduism and Salaam was one of those words from far away. I didn’t know bombay was a city. I didn’t know how to read the subtitles. I didn’t know what hasjies were or prostitution I didn’t even know that this was a reality for some or perhaps many.

Now almost  20 years later I found the dvd in one of the… dvd shops (duh) in Pondi and watched it with a little bit more but perhaps just as much knowledge about the things I didn’t know about then.

I don’t know how to describe the movie or tell what it is I love about the movie. The folks over at IMDB are doing a whole lot better at it. As for me I don’t have anything sensible to say other than that you really should watch the movie. It’s worth it!

Well, so why a whole post for just a stupid message? When I was watching the dvd I felt to lazy to switch my comp off and watched all the features. Apparently after or during the making of the movie a trust was founded for the children this movie is dealing about. It’s called Salaam Balaak Trust and again I don’t have anything sensible to say about other than have a look a their website:


Sigh, now if you excuse me I’m going to try and find something I have something sensible to say on…

Auroville: an article you should definitly check

Maybe, or most likely, many diaspories share the same sentiment as me when watching an Indian on TV while being in the West. No matter how insignificant his or hers appearance is I always tend to jump up call my mother and point as loony as possible to my ‘bloodbrothers and sisters’ whenever they appear on the idiotbox.

Indjuns, South Asians, the places where I lived orhave some sort of relationship with. Whenever they appear on the screen I want to roar: I’ve been there and tell everybody what’s it like, what’s it really like .

(Of course no soul could possibly tell anything real about anything but that should not stop any of us.)

Visheshur (I want to fly too) asked me some weeks ago what’s Auroville like.  If it wasn’t for a briljant article about Auroville from one of the correspondents of the BBC I would probably never have answered his question the way I wanted too. When I read this article last night I had my ‘Hey Auroville in the news’ moment and decided to have my say on what I think Auroville is like.

“Some call it the giant golden golf ball, and the description is just right. The Matrimandir – literally the temple of the Mother – is a huge eight-sided almost-spherical building.”

I think it looks more like a spaceship. Some of the other visitors thought it was peculiar that while so much of poverty is in the near vincinty of Auroville a building consisting out of gold plates could be erected. Perhaps it’s the same ‘Ambani could have just bought her a few dresses instead of a plane logic’ but it still seems odd. As many other views on helping seems odd over here.

“It is surrounded by carefully manicured lawns, something of an achievement in arid southern India, and visitors are allowed in only by special appointment.”

It’s one of the things that makes the matrimandir defenitly worth a visit. The lawns around the matrimandir are absolutely lovely. Just sitting there watching that weird old golden globe does have it’s effects on you. It’s nice peacefull and quiet, at a distance.

“The mother was a French woman called Mirra Alfassa, who lived in nearby Pondicherry, a former French colony.”

This is probably one of the most irritating things of Auroville. No matter where you go you’ll see a picture of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother. Everywhere! 

Smiling, sighing faces when almost whispering the words: ‘The Mother’.  Seriously folks it freaks the jeebies out of me! They have some sort of god status here and next to a picture of Jesus or the usual Hindu deities it’s quite common to find a picture of a big smiling Mother or a bored looking Aurobindo.

“I asked my French guide whether he thought the ideals of the mother had been realised. “For an ideal society,” he replied, “you have to have ideal people, and we don’t have ideal people.”

I mean like duh. Who listens to his mother anyways. (Sleeping with my eyes open tonight mom)

“The locals think it is not fair. They are the ones who work full-time, and often for less than the Aurovillians get in maintenance grants. I feel like a slave,” one of them told me. “Of course they do provide us with jobs,” he said, “but it’s very difficult for us local Tamils to become members.” “It’s like being back in the days of the British Raj,” said another.”

One of the residents here told me about what growing up here was like. The division, the treatment, the anger. I don’t know enough to make a judgement it’s the fair part what troubles me. They need the jobs they need the money but when is it slavery/exploitations and when is it providing jobs. One women who works in one of the homes I stayed previously earned 75 roepie for cleaning the apartment, the dishes and the laundry. I was told that I was helping her by letting her clean my apartment but how on earth could a person be helped with a wage that low. The more you stay in India and the more you find out how much people actually earn the more it just seems absurd that they manage to survive.

“They are allowed to get away with whatever they like, including paying our children to have sex with them, and we are powerless to complain.”

It’s strange to see this one actually written in black (red) and white. I heard the stories but thought they were from a ‘oeeeh things that cannot see the daylight happen in that horrible horrible Auroville over there’. One of the boys here kept bragging about the fact that the foreign girls just love Tamilian boys when I inquired about his girlfriend(s). I kept thinking about a movie made some years ago about elder women having a blast in sunny Ghana with the local boys from Ghana. I still wonder if it would be right or wrong to tell him it’s nothing to brag about.

 The author of the article has a more clear picture of what is written on the fence. It says: Access to the beach for Aurovillians and their guests only.

Somewhat giddish, people call it the white peoples beach (most often white people themselves.) Which is what it is, a white peoples beach. The Indians have to take another (rather dirty – keep your stuff with you guys, gosh!!!) road to get to the beach. It felt and feels strange going to that beach with my white friends, my foreign appearence and my Indian genes. Somehow it just doesn’t feel right. The beach is absolutely lovely though…

To be fair Auroville does do a great deal for the local community; it employs 4000 people, runs schools for local children and has reforested an enormous area that was once a barren landscape.

For my work I have to drive all the way to Kottakarai, a village situated in the outer ring of Auroville. I experience it as a true blessing to have the opportunity to take that road to my work (even-though I fell down several times). The nature is so breathtakingly beautiful. To drive past the rice fields, the waving palm trees, the forests, the temples it’s really a feeling I will never forget.

The roads are maintained very well, just like may other Auroville projects. I was literally shocked when I saw a school for children (blog about that one later) nearby the Matri Mandir. The ecofriendly projects are really really exciting as well as some of the architecture. Auroville is worth a visit in many ways but do keep your sceptical hat on. At distance things are not always what they seem.

Hope I answered your question Visheshur.

Tag me Baby!

1. Last movie you saw in a theater?
Broken Flowers… I think. It’s been a while. Perhaps that’s the movie that stuck most in my mind.

2. What book are you reading?
I’m not reading any books now. I started some week ago in Hari Kunzru’s book about that guy and that girl. Forgot the name. The first chapter had me in stitches. Threw it away. No cliches such a fucking godesses for me. Really we’re nothing but. Devils!!!

3. Favorite board game?
Chess! If somebody ever visits Pondy there is a Kashmiri in Pondi who’s briljant at the game. He floored me in about 2 minutes. Ofcourse I sulked and told him he should be a gentlemen and let me win. I hate loosing.

4. Favorite magazine?
I don’t read magazines. Sorry.

5. Favorite smells?
Ibiza Hippie, Georgio, for men I love the AXE deodorant, Ibiza Hippi, also for men I love the Armani and Davidoff scents. Oh and did I mention Ibiza Hippie?

6. Favorite sounds?
Baby laughter.

7. Worst feeling in the world?
Being deprived from internet and having to choose between loved ones.

8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
I need to pee.

9. Favorite fast food place?
Don’t really like fast food. Call me a snob!

10. Future child’s name?
boy: Sikander, Siddirupa, Subramaniam
girl: Raja, Rajinder, Rukhsana

11. Finish this statement. “If I had lot of money I’d….?Invest it. Seems logic right?

12. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
He’s an animal alright… the stuffed part is what troubles me

13. Storms – cool or scary?
If we have to believe Ella, neither. I stick with Jazzy!

14. Favorite drink?
Indian coke from a glass bottle, it’s yummy. Other than that I like apple juice and grape juice and watermelon juice and papaya juice. Oh wait you said my favourite. I can only pick one. Sigh..

Tea my dear!

15. Finish this statement, “If I had the time I would….”?
Write all the novels I have dancing around in my head, cut my toenails, clean my room, answer all my emails, update my blog, tell Lallopallo one more time I adore him, save the world, solve world famine, paint my room, finish the books I still have to read, go to the barber.

16. Do you eat the stems on broccoli?
Yup, I’m Dutch we don’t believe in waste. Besides they’re yummy and so much easier to use when you make springrolls.

17. If you could dye your hair any color, what would be your choice?
Black. Really yellow ain’t my thing.

18. Name all the different cities/towns you’ve lived in?
Utrecht, Leiding, Delhi, Nickerie, Rotterdam, Leiden, Auroville

19. Favorite sports to watch?


20. One nice thing about the person who sent this to you?
What I say? They are horrible, horrible people! Horrible I tell you!

(Actually they’re not. Infact I admire both but let’s not play the feathergirl here.)

21. What’s under your bed?
Poochies, Dust, Poochies, Dust and more Poochies

I’m a slob.. what can I do!

22. Would you like to be born as yourself again?
Yes, again again and again. Eventhough life can suck like, like… well I don’t know like what but as sucky as it can be there are so many wonderful things I can not see in this life or the next. Having on more shot to love, to hope, to cry, to sigh and hold would be worth all the bad

23. Morning person, or night owl?
Night parrot.

24. Over easy, or sunny side up?
Ugh I don’t even know what that means… I think it’s not good for a girl to say she’s easy let alone over easy so I stick with Sunny side up!

25. Favorite place to relax?
Beach, next, under or on top of an loved-one.

26. Favorite pie?

Carrot Pie! You have some?

27. Favorite ice cream flavor?
Ben & Jerry flavour, so much better than sex I tell you!

28. Of all the people you tagged this to, who’s most likely to respond first?

Ah I have to tag this thing to other people and think of who’s going to respond first.

What you question me? All of them will respond first! You silly!!

Tags these days….

(Could someone explain just a little about how this tagging thing works?)

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