Chennai, London and other things

A week back, I did write this witty, sarcastic and amazingly funny blog post that just vapourized when I tried to post it because I had got disconnected in the meantime. Yes people, I was in India, like I currently am. Though some things like terrible internet connections never really seem to change, a lot else has.

• Privatized airlines. Jet Airways from London to Mumbai was great to say the least. On time. Good Indian food. Desi in-flight entertainment . A lot better than the American carriers (Delta, United, AA) that actually expect you to pay cash for your food on a 14 hour flight. Heard a lot about Kingfisher as well, from friends. Looks like Mr Mallya personally selected all the air hostesses.
• Cell phones. Everyone has a cell phone, some have two, and ads are everywhere. Whoever would have imagined?
• Construction. Everywhere. Flyovers, commercial complexes, residential flats … Lots of lending. Banks are competing hard to sell home loans. Many people are going to be very broke if demand slows.
• Prices. I think the official government inflation number of 6% is inaccurate to put it very mildly. If I were to not put it mildly, I will call it a blatant lie propagated by the political parties to keep the populace quiet. I would put the number close to 35% a year for someone living in a metropolitan city. A roadside meal that used to cost about 30Rs now costs 100Rs. An average restaurant dinner ends up running to around 400Rs PP. Auto fares have double over the last 2-3 years. Let us not even speak about real estate prices. It isn’t surprising that the IT companies have had to ramp up salaries by 20% a year to keep turnover in check. What used to be a 1.5 lakh a year job in 2003 now pays about 4.0 lakh. I shudder to think how the median Indian (rhymes doesn’t it) is coping.
• The traffic. I don’t know if it is just me, but the whole city appears to crawl during the morning and evening rush hours. A good alternative to driving down from Kalakshetra to Nungambakkam is to shut yourself in your garage with your car, turn on the engine, honk repeatedly to yourself, and wait for the end.

I have another week to go before I am back to my good old SSDD lifestyle. (Same Shit Different Day)

I shall now backtrack, and fill you in on the numerous splendors that have bedecked my life since I landed in the land of our colonial masters on the 19th of November, in the 2007th year of the lord, but before I descended upon the land of the sacred cow.

I think the biggest problem with London is the Colonial Hangover Premium (CHP) that debilitates it. Now, not many of you read random finance papers that proselytize on risk premia and investor utility, so I need to explain.

See growing up, in whichever city you might have, you had a Hyde Park or Connaught Place or Victoria Terminus or (insert name of dead British guy) Road. Or, if you are that type, you had visited a bar/pub that pilfered alcohol in the name of some person/place/thing from that exalted pile of mud (it keeps raining) in the Atlantic. When you finally grow up, you finally want to go and see what the fuss is all about, and pay the price. Ouch!

• 5 pounds for a tube ride in a system that is perennially delayed, overcrowded and closes at 12:30 am. Now that is better than spending 30 pounds on a cab ride.
• Tourists everywhere. I made the mistake of going near Harrods around Christmas. It took me 25 minutes to walk the 100 yards from the west exit to the tube stop.
• 400 pounds a week in rent for a studio convertible.
• 10 pounds for dinner on the wayside (60 pounds to make a meal of show and pretension)
• 40% taxes. What?! Where is my wage?! Government! Give me back my money!

Setting all the cribbin aside, London is a fun city. Firstly, unlike Chicago, it is a focal point for DLA’s (Desis Living Abroad), which means that there is a large contingent from university infesting the city. The museums look delectable, though I still haven’t done full justice to them. However, in all modesty, I am forced to admit that nothing can beat having, on a cool summer eve, for your perusal, a couple of wings of Picasso at the Art Institute. Desi food is plentiful and cheap, which keeps me happy and sated. However, the most important point that should guide any decision making process is that none of the bartenders have heard of (or would like to hear of) Miller, Budweiser or Coors.

Now, astute readers would note that this sporadic periodical was started on a blustery January evening, in the dank depths of a computer lab in Lyon, way back in 2004. It is now 2008, and I am back to Europa, though I always thought I had got dumped for good the first time around.