Yesterday, I was working on reporting a story and I picked up my desk phone to make a local call. Instead of a dial tone I heard a voice recording that said: "This facility is currently not available on your telephone." Thinking I had dialed incorrectly, I tried again. Same message. I turned to my colleague and asked what I was doing wrong. She gave it a try and got the same message. Perplexed, we turned to the design team in the next pod over and got the news. Apparently, our newspaper company has turned off the phones on our floor. Because the company is getting hit by the slowing economy, they have started in on cutbacks. First to go: telephone service in the newsroom. That's right... we are a room full of reporters on deadline trying to interview people, set up meetings, and connect with sources and colleagues without a single operating landline. 

A newsroom without telephones! Unbelievable.

Now, I know the job market and the economy are bad in the States, but we have been told that the opportunities in India are boundless, what with its expanding economy and booming media industry. When we arrived, we were also bombarded with a company orientation that demonstrated our employer's great reach. Much was made about how large the circulations were for their many media properties (newspapers, internet, television, radio and entertainment companies). Someone mentioned that newspaper circulations, already large, were expected to double. There was also discussion about how Western newspapers had got it wrong -- that in order to make money, papers should publish less not more, that editors should be more selective in the stories they chose to run which would make the reporters stay competitive with the stories they pitch and report. 

Apparently, the credit crunch is affecting what is the oldest media company (founded 140 years ago) which three months ago seemed bound only for growth. Purportedly one of the most powerful companies in India, today, it seems no different from the many companies who have found their fortunes suddenly reversed. Sadly, the booming journalism bubble in India looks to be evaporating. 

Perhaps without phones, a key tool for reporters to do their jobs, the newspaper will have no choice but to print fewer pages.

Viewing golden temple at night

I recently took a solo journey to Amritsar, home of the Golden Temple, Sikhisms’s holiest shrine. In a place like India, where religion is deeply important, I had been feeling a distinct lack of spirituality, so I went to steep myself in a spiritual place, hoping I would learn something.

I chafe under the restrictions for women in Delhi, such as being confined to traveling in groups and never alone at night, and the warnings had sunk in deeply. In fact, upon our arrival, a story about a 25-year-old television journalist murdered as she was driving home late from work immediately imprinted the degree of danger for women. I felt nervous about taking my trip alone.

On the morning of my trip, I arrived at the Delhi train station well before the sun came up and furtively rushed from my auto rickshaw to the departures board. It was dark, and the train station was unfamiliar. Everyone looked like they might cause harm. I found a crowd of people standing with their necks craned at the board. And that was the last time I felt nervous. Next to me was a family waiting for the same train and we began chatting. When I sat down in my seat, I began to relish, for the first time in India, the refreshing independence of being on my own.

Women near pool of nectar

At the Golden Temple, priests keep the original copy of the Sikh holy book under a shroud. Every morning at 4:30 AM, the priests carry the holy scriptures from a shrine on the outskirts of the sacred Pool of Nectar to the temple, where it remains for the day. At the end of the day, around 10:00 PM the priests remove the book from the temple and ceremoniously replace it in the shrine. These early morning and late night perambulatory ceremonies are well-attended by Sikh men, women and children. The late-night ceremony was gorgeous and peaceful; lights twinkled off the sacred pool surrounding the temple and pilgrims prayed and talked to one another.

(I made a slideshow about the Golden Temple’s public dining hall and kitchen)

It was wonderful and, personally, I felt a greater sense of spirituality than I ever have. It was an experience I won’t forget and I was grateful to have participated. That night, I walked around the neighborhood, where stores shone with light and men popped corn kernels in enormous woks. Not a sole even looked curiously at me.

Praying

The next day, I had an irksome conversation with my hotel owner, which made me re-think the gender-based safety issues. First of all, this guy thought himself quite a charmer and launched several pathetic pick-up lines. When I mentioned a trip to Srinagar with friends, he invited himself, saying “Here I have a wife, but there it will be different…” It was absurd. I asked him, “What exactly does that mean?” and realizing his “flirtations” were meeting a brick wall, he dropped the subject.

Then he said women shouldn’t attend the early morning ceremony because it wasn’t safe to walk to the temple at that hour. Women shouldn’t even bother to have their drivers drop them at the front because it’s a hassle for the driver to find a spot to wait, he said. He went on and on about how “safety” precluded women from going to the temple at this time.

I began to wonder, at what point do “safety issues” change from concern for women’s well-being into a handy excuse to exclude them from a male society? The more I thought about it, the angrier I felt. Women are frequently prevented from participating in events and the economy in this male-dominated society because of “safety reasons.” Yes, men are aggressive in Delhi and it’s dangerous for women. But I think it’s evolved into a convenient way to prevent women from attaining certain equalities. If safety is such a concern, why does no one bat an eyelash at the women who ride bareheaded and sidesaddle on the back of motorcycles through the Delhi traffic while the male drivers wear helmets? Why is female infanticide such a problem?

It’s a slippery slope when it comes to sheltering women from evil intentions. What begins as well-intentioned protection quickly becomes a severe exclusion from society. First we are discouraged from walking out at night, then from a temple ceremony, then from showing one’s face to anyone except one’s husband. Quickly, we are choked in yards of cloth covering every part of our bodies and closeted inside, unable to leave home.

Yes, it is a dangerous world, but it’s also a convenient excuse for an exclusionary agenda. Unfortunately, the danger is perpetuated by traditions that dictate that a woman’s independence is morally wrong. As a sobering example, one of the reasons given for why that young female journalist was targeted was that she dared to drive a car late at night by herself. 

Many auto-rickshaw drivers in Delhi decorate their vehicles. Most are adorned with religious images of gods and goddesses. Some veer off into the purely self-expressive with leopard print seat upholstery or multi-colored wallpaper on the ceiling of the auto's protective canopy. This fellow had pictures of 50's style pin-up girls. 

Rickshaw

Driving home in an auto rickshaw, I watched this scene repeated at several intersections: 2 boys were begging at the windows of a sleek white bus full of tourists. They had caught a big fish and were determined to hold on tight until it paid out. As soon as the light turned green, the boys would jump up and grab the ladder on the back of the bus, hitching a ride until the bus stopped again at the next light. Then the boys would run around to the side of the bus, jump up and slap the windows. I'm sure they caught the attention of the people inside but no one doled out any money. I wondered if the tourists were perplexed at how the same two boys could be begging at their windows for half a mile as the bus tried to breeze through town.

On our first trip out of Delhi, we drove to Jaipur, the pink city, in Haryana 5 hours south of Delhi. My favorite experience was watching the sunset over the city from Narhargarh Fort. An 8 km road runs up through the hills to the fort, built in 1734, which overlooks Jaipur from a sheer ridge to the north.

Narhargarh silhouette2