the almighty helmet

This is the end. Suiting my character I will end the Helmet in India section by intertwining something funny with something devastating, some might say tragic. Train rides: one of my favorite topics.

The Bombay metro system is a known hazard to commuters. Since nothing is alike this city, train rides blend in smoothly. They actually can kill you. I was too lazy researching numbers on how many people die riding the commute each year but just googling for images reveals horrifying proof of the 2006 train blasts; only one of the many perils. Others are mashed by the hordes of people, pushed out of an overcrowded coach and shattered on the tracks, or killed by the power supply lines whilst traveling on the train roof (great idea, by the way!). There are several websites and blogs wrapped up around this topic. And even the ...

One of the last things I did in Mumbai was visiting an orphanage for HIV/AIDS-infected children in the outskirts. In India, those children are treated a family disgrace and completely excluded form social life. The sisters of the order The Helpers of Mary – with the support of expatriates and medical, food and clothing donations – built a lovely home for the kids. They showed us around their dorm room and recreational area and performed a traditional dance.

There's not much more to say but how grateful we should be for leading the life that we do and the opportunities we inherited. We must not take everything for granted.



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To sum up my time in India I decided to post the remaining photos and comment on a couple of events and travels. I start with an adventurous layover at the FRRO, the Foreigners Regional Registration Office in Mumbai, which actually felt more like detention.

I feel obliged to mention that Indian law constitutes a resident a person with a habitation longer than 12 weeks (I stayed only for 3 month). Because of a screwup in the General Consulate of India in Frankfurt, Germany, I received a student visa with the condition to get registered with the local authorities. My Indian colleague covered my back in the administrative hazard that is the FRRO. We got hassled by someone who embodied importance in concurrence with inefficiency (not quite sure about the ratio, though). I had to fill out an application, tell someone – sorry, wait for them, then letting them ...

Hat schon mal jemand versucht, den Alptraum meiner Generation zu benennen? Zur Erklärung: Meine Generation wurde vor der in die Welt entlassen, für die das Mobiltelephon als Ausrede herhalten muss, weder Lesen noch Schreiben geschweige denn die Lokalzeitung eines mittelprächtig primitiven Einödkaffs begreifen zu können. Ich bin einer der Wenigen meines Jahrgangs, der sich nur aus einem einzigen Grunde daran erinnert, warum die Rechtschreibreform ein Desaster war –nämlich, weil durch deren Einführung der Vorsprung der Leistungsträger im Deutsch-LK frappant geschmälert wurde. Zumindest wurde die Regellandschaft für die letzten Jahre Schulmarter zu unübersichtlich, so dass der geisteswissenschaftliche Lehrkörper kurzerhand beschloss, fortan keine Verstöße mehr zu ahnden. Besonders stolz im Zusammenhang mit Generationsfragen bin ich jedoch auf meine Abneigung gegen das Wort 'Handy'. Von ganz Cleveren auch 'Händy', von noch Clevereren 'Handie' geschrieben (die Mischform verkneife ich mir besser). Wozu ein anglistisch anmutendes Unwort für eine Sache verwenden, die in ihren Ursprüngen überhaupt nicht 'handy' ...