I went to phoren....
I rang up a friend in Indore today and it turned out that he had gone to the USA for a few weeks and she was missing him a lot. I started thinking of how the world had shrunk post 1991. How the Indian has started travelling. And travelling at a global level. I am not talking of the sleeper coach wala two day journey from Indore to Palakkad.I must add that I love the sleeper coach wala journey.
Travelling is no longer as exotic as it used to be. Indians are travelling a lot now-a-days. Thanks to the IT revolution and the opening up of the Indian economy thanks to Ms. Narasimha Rao and Manmohan Singh. This is especially true of air travel and foreign travel. When I was a teenager during the seventies it was a great thing if one could travel by air and it was unbelievable if onbe could travel outside India. Even Sri Lanka, Nepal or Bhutan would do. Those were the repressive days of socialism when Indira Gandhi's government had decided that barring the elite none could travel especially when it came to air travel and travel to western countries. It is interesting to see how this rule did not apply to the elite. The elite had to visit the West to recharge their batteries and then come back to India to impose Soviet style austerities on the majority of the population.
I remember a Limca ad. It showed the hand drawn picture of a young Indian girl. Before and after she had returned from phoren. It was hilarious. I also rememberseeing a cartoonby Mario in which a politician's wife is telling him that as a swadeshi drive was on he must becreful that nobody gets to know that he is wearingphoren wala underwear. Typical Mario cartoon it was.I laughed till it hurt. In those days it was fun listening to the stories those who had travelled abroad had to tell. It was fun to receive a 'foreign ball point pen'. And if one could get a pre-recorded cassette or some chocolates then one was in seventh heaven. In a similar manner the ladies and girls died for phoren perfume and lingerie and the men for Playboy, Penthouse and Dunhill cigarettes.
It was fun listening to the accounts of those who had travelled outside India in the pre-independence days. This included Army officers who had travelled by ship to England. I remember hearing the account of the days spent in a prisoner-of-war camp in Italy during World War II by an Indian Army officer who had received a short service commission during the war. It was fascinating to hear the accounts of his days in a POW camp. In post independence Indian Army foreign travel had become extremely difficult. So if any officer had done a UN posting or even more rarely served as a military attache abroad he would be treated as a dem-god. It was also assumed that he must have got enough allowances in dollars to have made him a millionaire.
It was also fascinating to hear the accounts from classmates whose fathers were academicians who had gone abroad for higher studies. It was fun seeing the slides and photographs and listening to the LP records which were not available in India and seeing the titles on the spines of the books in the bookshelves.
Nowadays I hear stories from those younger to me about their travels abroad. I live in a small town and the only travelling I do is when I go to Indore which is the district headquarters and is around 25 kms away. But after a few hours I am dying to get back to Mhow where I belong. I wonder how I would react if I were to go outside India. Friends tell me that thanks to the gypsy like life I led during my childhood years in the Army I would adjust well. But I do not want to travel - perhaps it is due to the travelling I did as a child. I feel that the small town I live in has so much to give.
I remember travelling by train from Pune to Khandwa in the early eighties by sleeper. I was using the top berth. The berths below me were occupied by two Army officers who did not know each other. They introduced themselves and started talking. One couldn't find a pair of young men who were so diametrically opposite. One of them was extremely flashy and a loudmouth. He was westernised in a very shallow manner. The other one was a typical Indian middle class Rahul Dravid type of guy. Both of them belonged to Pune. But it was easy to see that they subscribed to different philosophies of life.
The loudmouthed guy was talking about his visit to a nearby country and how he had availed of the services of a sex worker for one night. He went into graphic detail about how much he paid her. How she insisted he take a shower and use a condom. The not-so-flashy guy didn't know where to look. But flashy guy continued, well aware of the fact that I could also hear what he was saying. But I am sure that he wanted me to hear. After all what was the use of going to phoren if one didn't have sex with a pretty girl and didn't boast about it. After he had finished with his account he had nothing else to talk about. It was as if his life's mission was over after having had dermal friction with a pretty fair complexioned South East Asian lass.
Perhaps that is why many parents insisted that their sons get married before they went abroad. Though that wouldn't prevent them from having sex with sex workers and girl friends and mistresses it would at least prevent them from marrying a foreigner. And that is what most parents want. They couldn't care less who their son is screwing around with as long as he marries a girl they chose and doesn't say no to dowry. After all they have invested in his education and any investment must get a good return. The rules are different when it comes to girls but I am sure that in this liberal era our girls can give a nice and well deserved shock to their male chauvinist relatives if they so wish. That most of them do not goes to their credit.
I remember reading about an incident during the seventies when a Bollywood actor was boasting in front of the late Raj Kumar about the holiday he had taken in London. Raj Kumar's answer was typical, "Jaani London to Mukri bhi jata hai..." So much for going to phoren. But I am glad that the fear and nervousness that was associated with foreign travel is now going. But we Indians have much to learn. Whenever a survey is taken Indians generally come out as the loudest and rudest among tourists. And they love throwing things inside airplane lavatories. But that is another story....
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Travelling is no longer as exotic as it used to be. Indians are travelling a lot now-a-days. Thanks to the IT revolution and the opening up of the Indian economy thanks to Ms. Narasimha Rao and Manmohan Singh. This is especially true of air travel and foreign travel. When I was a teenager during the seventies it was a great thing if one could travel by air and it was unbelievable if onbe could travel outside India. Even Sri Lanka, Nepal or Bhutan would do. Those were the repressive days of socialism when Indira Gandhi's government had decided that barring the elite none could travel especially when it came to air travel and travel to western countries. It is interesting to see how this rule did not apply to the elite. The elite had to visit the West to recharge their batteries and then come back to India to impose Soviet style austerities on the majority of the population.
I remember a Limca ad. It showed the hand drawn picture of a young Indian girl. Before and after she had returned from phoren. It was hilarious. I also rememberseeing a cartoonby Mario in which a politician's wife is telling him that as a swadeshi drive was on he must becreful that nobody gets to know that he is wearingphoren wala underwear. Typical Mario cartoon it was.I laughed till it hurt. In those days it was fun listening to the stories those who had travelled abroad had to tell. It was fun to receive a 'foreign ball point pen'. And if one could get a pre-recorded cassette or some chocolates then one was in seventh heaven. In a similar manner the ladies and girls died for phoren perfume and lingerie and the men for Playboy, Penthouse and Dunhill cigarettes.
It was fun listening to the accounts of those who had travelled outside India in the pre-independence days. This included Army officers who had travelled by ship to England. I remember hearing the account of the days spent in a prisoner-of-war camp in Italy during World War II by an Indian Army officer who had received a short service commission during the war. It was fascinating to hear the accounts of his days in a POW camp. In post independence Indian Army foreign travel had become extremely difficult. So if any officer had done a UN posting or even more rarely served as a military attache abroad he would be treated as a dem-god. It was also assumed that he must have got enough allowances in dollars to have made him a millionaire.
It was also fascinating to hear the accounts from classmates whose fathers were academicians who had gone abroad for higher studies. It was fun seeing the slides and photographs and listening to the LP records which were not available in India and seeing the titles on the spines of the books in the bookshelves.
Nowadays I hear stories from those younger to me about their travels abroad. I live in a small town and the only travelling I do is when I go to Indore which is the district headquarters and is around 25 kms away. But after a few hours I am dying to get back to Mhow where I belong. I wonder how I would react if I were to go outside India. Friends tell me that thanks to the gypsy like life I led during my childhood years in the Army I would adjust well. But I do not want to travel - perhaps it is due to the travelling I did as a child. I feel that the small town I live in has so much to give.
I remember travelling by train from Pune to Khandwa in the early eighties by sleeper. I was using the top berth. The berths below me were occupied by two Army officers who did not know each other. They introduced themselves and started talking. One couldn't find a pair of young men who were so diametrically opposite. One of them was extremely flashy and a loudmouth. He was westernised in a very shallow manner. The other one was a typical Indian middle class Rahul Dravid type of guy. Both of them belonged to Pune. But it was easy to see that they subscribed to different philosophies of life.
The loudmouthed guy was talking about his visit to a nearby country and how he had availed of the services of a sex worker for one night. He went into graphic detail about how much he paid her. How she insisted he take a shower and use a condom. The not-so-flashy guy didn't know where to look. But flashy guy continued, well aware of the fact that I could also hear what he was saying. But I am sure that he wanted me to hear. After all what was the use of going to phoren if one didn't have sex with a pretty girl and didn't boast about it. After he had finished with his account he had nothing else to talk about. It was as if his life's mission was over after having had dermal friction with a pretty fair complexioned South East Asian lass.
Perhaps that is why many parents insisted that their sons get married before they went abroad. Though that wouldn't prevent them from having sex with sex workers and girl friends and mistresses it would at least prevent them from marrying a foreigner. And that is what most parents want. They couldn't care less who their son is screwing around with as long as he marries a girl they chose and doesn't say no to dowry. After all they have invested in his education and any investment must get a good return. The rules are different when it comes to girls but I am sure that in this liberal era our girls can give a nice and well deserved shock to their male chauvinist relatives if they so wish. That most of them do not goes to their credit.
I remember reading about an incident during the seventies when a Bollywood actor was boasting in front of the late Raj Kumar about the holiday he had taken in London. Raj Kumar's answer was typical, "Jaani London to Mukri bhi jata hai..." So much for going to phoren. But I am glad that the fear and nervousness that was associated with foreign travel is now going. But we Indians have much to learn. Whenever a survey is taken Indians generally come out as the loudest and rudest among tourists. And they love throwing things inside airplane lavatories. But that is another story....
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© Dev Kumar Vasudevan., all rights reserved.
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