LETTER FROM INDIA:It's tough being a diplomat in the far outposts of empire, but most manage it very well indeed
FLYING ONE’S national flag in foreign lands is diplomatic business. And, for Delhi’s vast and glaringly visible diplomatic corps, it is one riddled with soothing inanities.
The ostensibly grave and glamorous mien of Delhi’s diplomatic circuit – there are more than 125 embassies here – dominated by the western, English-speaking bloc, is belied by the reality of its unreality.
Palatial airconditioned bungalows, armies of servants, and access to facilities prohibitively expensive at home are some of the adversities diplomats assigned to India have to tackle.
But so addicted do they become to these “hardships” that some – especially the spouses – are compelled to attend “detoxification” sessions with therapists on returning home.
Users of public transport and supermarket bargain hunters on hardship postings to India are transformed into owners of chauffeur-driven cars who host lavish banquets organised by remote control.
And, for it all, many diplomats are paid hardship allowances to help tide them over the heat, dust and discomforts of India.
A returning British high commissioner to India suggested in his valedictory telegram to the foreign and commonwealth office in the mid-1990s that his government should consider paying an enhanced “hardship allowance” to his successors to ensure a better quality of life.
It was received with wry amusement in Delhi’s official circles.
“If living in a palatial, colonial house with a swimming pool set in acres of manicured law, being served by an army of servants, eating haute cuisine off exquisite East India Company crockery and travelling the city in the latest Rolls Royce is hardship, give me hardship anytime,” a frequent guest at the UK high commissioner’s palatial bungalow remarked.
Many diplomats at the social nadir at home find themselves at the top of the heap here, much sought after by Delhi’s “upper” and “intellectual” echelons.
Droves of “good chap” locals are handed down from departing diplomat to arriving diplomat, most of whom are permanent fixtures on embassy cricket teams, polo chukkers, cross-country runs or tedious diplomatic “dos ”.
These khidmatgars, or those who strive to please, form part of the essential local flavour, necessary for any diplomat to get a "handle" on any foreign country, especially one as diverse and chaotic as India.
The irony, however, is that these diplomatic clones have acquired both the jargon and mannerisms of their mentors and, far from being representative natives, only buttress preconceived prejudices about Indians.
To further fortify the corps diplomatique(CD) status of diplomats are the walas: carpet-wala, antique-wala, ethnic bric-a-brac-wala, houseboat-wala and aira-wagera or etc wala.
All self-respecting “dips” must have a string of walas, particularly since overall standing in the CD community is directly related to their “brilliant wala’s” ability in producing something “exclusive”, the subject of envy. As a good-humoured dip said, one-up-walaship matters in Delhi’s CD circles. These walas, like their social counterparts, are handed down from departing to replacing dip and, over the years, earn a fortune selling “genuine” Mughal miniature paintings and Indian bronzes fresh off the assembly line.
Exclusive sports such as polo, horse riding and skiing, prohibitively expensive to patronise at home, are easily and cheaply accessible here.
Polo is a particular favourite with the younger staff of western missions. Membership of golf and other exclusive Delhi clubs with long waiting lists is almost automatic for diplomats.
Efficient household help prompts many to start families in Delhi.
Britain and its erstwhile colonies – the US, Canada and Australia – broadly head the social pecking order here. These English-speaking dips are the most active and visible. However, many live cocooned existences inside their huge embassy compounds, eking out their three-year tenures with limited interaction with the country.
They seem to follow the dictum that life in the far outposts of empire is hard and no effort must be spared to make it as livable and similar as possible to home.
The Hash House Harriers is a diplomatic tradition of cross-country running. It began in Kuala Lampur more than half a century ago and was confined to south and southeast Asia; the run, then and now, terminates in a mobile bar called the Hash. Here in Delhi, a run takes place almost every week, ending in limitless rounds of beer.
Midweek is occupied with parties, club luncheons and for, some, sport in the evenings.
For the spouses, day activities include mahjong, coffee parties and attending sales of ethnic goods.
The heavy weekend frivolity kicks off at noon on Friday at the Cabana, moving later to the Thank God it’s Friday club. Both are havens for diplomats to imbibe away the week’s hard work and get down to some serious enjoyment over the next two days.
